{ Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers,

but to be fearless in facing them.

Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain,

for the heart to conquer it.

― Rabindranath Tagore}

-After nine months-

Sweat. It poured down her forehead like a leaking pipe, burning into her eyes. Her vision was already blurry a long time ago, was it minutes, hours? The girl was already exhausted; she was on the verge of giving up. Her wrists were curled up into fists, her fingernails digging into her skin. Her face was as pale as a sheet of white paper, the lines on her forehead deep.

Push one two. Push one two. Push one two.

The sun was high in the sky, its rays shooting through the scarce clouds. She was protected from the scorching heat, in a little hut specially built for these occasions. The wooden hut was not comfortable; a mattress was all it had. They brought her here, but they would surely take her back.

The lady was kind. She was beside her all the time, encouraging her, helping her. She was patient and experienced, though not professional. She knew what to do, what to use to ease the pain. She understood. She urged. She cared.

Or maybe she didn't. Maybe she was just doing her job.

The tension broke when the cry was finally heard. It echoed around the room, as if announcing to the world its presence. Never would she have thought that the cry of a newborn baby would be such a wonderful sound.

I… did it.

The midwife handled the infant gently, holding it beside Seven so she could take a look. It's skin was still red, it's eyes closed tight. Seven stared at it in wonder, that beautiful being over there… it was her child.

"He's a boy. Would you like to hold him?"

Despite the fatigue and faint feeling, she couldn't resist the urge. Her arms reached out in a reflex action, as the midwife placed the infant into her arms slowly.

My son.

She watched the tiny child with adoration, capturing his features one by one. His head was misshapen, but the lady said it was alright. He had beautiful eyebrows, a little nose, his skin felt so soft she was almost afraid of hurting him. He sneezed, causing her to smile. It was worth it, she strongly believed. Hours of labor can never compare to something like this. He was hers, and hers only. For the first time in years, she felt happiness crawling into her from within, she suddenly felt a strong wave of protection and love for the son she had just conceived.

The midwife watched Seven hold her baby quietly. If Seven wasn't preoccupied with him, she would have noticed the unusual expression on the lady's face.

It was pity.

The elder woman knew all too well what would be next; she'd seen it happen to hundreds of other girls. To them, perhaps the only moment they could cherish was the few minutes given to them to hold their child, to feel his temperature against their skin, to breathe in the same air together as one.

Heavy footsteps were heard. They were here. The midwife opened the door to let them in, bowing her head in the process. There were two of them this time, both looking bored in their uniforms.

"We are here to collect the baby."

With that sentence said, they finally caught Seven's attention.

They are going to taking him away.

"NO!" As both of them approached her, Seven tightened her arms around her son, her fearful eyes looking at them with disbelief. After going through all the pain, they were going to take him away from her?

Without a word, they brutally snatched the baby out of her arms. A hard kick to her stomach inflicted such pain on her she had to drag her body to reach the doorstep, where they were heading. In a desperate motion, she grabbed one of the soldier's left leg, begged him with a pleading voice.

"Please… "

The gaze that met hers wasn't the one she wanted to see. His eyes were hard and cold, it stared into her soul with such loathing and disgust she was frozen at the spot.

"Get out of our way."

With those words thrown back at her, the soldier kicked up to her face while the other sniggered.

No, they can't take him away. I can't let go. I can't give up. He's mine.

He's my son.

But she couldn't even move from her spot as the backs of the soldiers moved further and further away. The midwife was at her side immediately, she could feel herself being pulled away.

No! I can't… I…

The last thing she saw before blackness took over her vision was the golden ray of sunlight surging through the windows.

It was so bright and sunny, her eyes hurt.

So did her heart.

She was drowning.

It was so dark. When she looked up, she couldn't even see the surface of the water.

She kicked, struggled, tried to swim, but nothing worked. She was running out of air, her lungs were like on fire. She closed her eyes, feeling the water around her envelope her body. Soon she stopped trying to breathe, and the world turned silent.

She could only feel herself sinking deeper and deeper into the endless whirlpool, carrying its weight down with her.

"You're awake."

The minute she opened her eyes, she regretted it. She was alive after all. Summoning all of her energy, she slowly sat up from the mattress and turned to the lady with an urging look.

Seven opened her mouth, but no sound came out of it.

She tried again, this time it was nothing but a croak.

"My… son…"

The midwife lowered her glance, and then moved over to sit beside Seven. Her hands touched Seven's palms softly, with a sad shake of her head. "He's gone."

Those two words struck the girl like bolts of lightning. She remembered what happened, and how her baby was brutally snatched away from her, but in a small part of her heart, she hoped that it was all a bad dream.

Did they kidnap her the same way they took away her son? She couldn't remember.

Although she had no memories of her parents, nor her relatives, she yearned to know who they were. She was angry at them for not being able to protect her, but more often than not, she thought about how it would be if she had grown up in a normal family. She missed them, but how could you miss someone you don't even remember?

Those feelings became stronger as she looked into the sorrowful eyes of the elder woman. She must feel sorry for me, she thought, and she must have felt sorry for every single girl who sat on the same mattress as she did right now.

Did her mother feel just as painful when she was separated from her?

With wobbling feet and an increasing nausea, Seven forced herself on her feet and stepped outside. The midwife rose to her feet with a cry, rushed over to Seven and tried to coax her to lie back down.

"They will be here soon to pick you up, so you should get some more rest when you can…" Was what Seven heard before she noticed something over the woman's shoulder.

Sharp eyes were one of the useful qualities she had that made her one of the elites. Yet, it wasn't just the uncanny sight that caught her attention; it was the smell of blood. Of rotten flesh.

The midwife was hiding something from her.

A cold glare and a push was enough to get the woman away from her, but she still tagged behind timidly, as if she was afraid of her. Seven ignored her reaction, her gut feeling was telling her that something was not right, that she should back away right now.

But she couldn't.

With shaky footsteps, she managed to advance forward in a somewhat slow speed. It was warm and sunny as usual; even the trees have lost their colour and seemed to hang about lifelessly, wilting and turning black due to the heat. There weren't many trees that could still survive in this weather, but a few did. The particular tree some distance away from the hut was barely surviving, its branches thin and without vigour. A dying tree.

There.

The source.

Below.

The dying tree.

Seven stumbled forward clumsily, moving in a zombie-like stance. The midwife was not behind her anymore, she was merely looking at her from the outside of the hut, watching. The girl soldier continued walking, as if her only goal in life was to reach that tree.

One step.

Two.

Three.

One step. Two. Three. One…

She repeated the process over and over again, giving herself the encouragement to go on. As she managed to get near enough to really see what the source of her curiosity was, it was all she could manage to remain standing on her feet.

There was a dying tree.

Beneath the dying tree.

There was a vulture.

Beneath the vulture.

There was a body.

A body torn to pieces.

A body of a newborn baby.