Watching and waiting


The child has made herself known to me, now.  Eyla.  Ana talks in her sleep so much and so often that it would all make sense to me would she have the energy to speak with me at length about it when she is awake.  All of the names and places that escape her lips while she is in her fitful dream states.  That ones name I had heard many times before I saw her, and so she at least is one I know now.

I knew she was here, or that someone was, but not exactly who the soul was until recently.  That child, or what remains of that child is so full of equal amounts of anger and now, in the face of her ‘mother’s’ illness, sadness, that one can’t help but feel her presence, for when it is near it fills the room with such darkness and despair that the very air we breathe feels thick and hard to swallow.

I’m uncertain if she is helping or hindering Ana’s current condition, but Lord Stormblood assures me that she could not be banished even if we wished it so, and the one time we have spoken of it, it was made known to me that nothing good would come of the souls departure.  Far from it.  So I leave it be.  The child and I stand vigil together now, strange companions in a way, watching and waiting.  But what we are watching is nothing short of tragic.

She fades before my … our eyes.

I’ve taken to sedating my sister now in order for her to be able to get any rest at all.  Though she is still deathly tired and has to be assisted to do the most basic of things these days, she is not getting actual rest that is able to sustain her.  As her belly grows, her weakness grows with it.  I can see the lifeblood draining from her.  I see it in her eyes which grow dull and empty.  She looks at me and we don’t speak.  I already know what she wants to say, how she feels.  They say that the eyes are the windows to one’s soul, and hers is worn out, done.

I know that she only struggles on for the child which grows in her belly.  I know that there are only precious few months left.  I know it as surely as I know that there is nothing in my power that I can do to reverse any of the damage that I see being done day by day.

I despise it already.  I know not how or the reasons why this parasite slowly kills my sister, but I do know that there is something dark at play, some magic that I do not understand.  Perhaps as time goes on, something will become clearer.  Maybe not all hope is lost, not yet.

If there is any justice left in this world, it is that the child will be born as still and lifeless as it’s mother looks certain to become on it’s entrance into it.

If it lives, I will not, I cannot love it.

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