WARNING: The following story contains explicit gore, imagery, & death. It is intended for an older audience. Though it is not age restricted, caution should be taken when reading, as it may cause triggers in some due to the sensitive context and subject matter. Proceed with caution.

My Son Part 1: The Promise

“The bloody note,
that his lost wife wrote,
He found under his pillow,
when in the afternoon he awoke.
His heart grew weak as he read her final thoughts,
her last words about the son she lost,
and the promise that she broke.
But it sends him right,
back to that lovely night,
when they felt each other’s love,
and gave each other light.
But he tears up when he remembers the deed,
the love he felt then, seems now like greed.
Her promise he would recite.
‘Our life together, darling, has just begun,
And I would be honored if you had our son.’
He was her man and she was his lady,
and so he asked her to have his baby.
Neither hesitated.
She lay on the floor,
as the blood poured,
she felt the one inside,
would live no more.
And she was crying for help and she called everyone.
Thinking that someone could save her son.”
The promise lay on the ground torn.
The shame she had,
when he took her hand,
in the hospital room,
but he made no demand.

And when he first entered, she wouldn’t even lock,
her eyes with his, she just turned toward the wall.
Thinking the promise, she would damn.
But she looked in time,
with her tearing eyes,
she wanted to see him,
the one she was denied.
And when she did, her world was shattered,
And put in submission.
It was black and bloody and in the fetal position.
Her promise was a lie.
‘Our life, my darling, had just begun.
I only need my girl and I don’t need a son.’
He said this, but he could not hide his pain,
He knew that their love would never be the same.
Neither reiterated.
And alas one evening,
while he was dreaming,
she’d lay in the tub,
her wrists slashed and bleeding.
And when he saw the result his heart receded,
it tore apart when her wrists stopped bleeding.
The promise she was relieving.
And after the police went,
And after the trial,
After the search of his house,
And long after denial,
That’s when he found her letter of regret.
Buried under his pillow so he couldn’t neglect.
But then arose a devious smile.
‘Our life, my darling, has just begun.
All I have to do is save some of your blood.’
He knew a man who could restore her life
half of this woman would still be half of his wife.
Shockingly, he never hesitated.”

© Delia Ross. 2010

Stay tuned for Part 2: The Note Beneath His Pillow & Part 3: Half of Her Life