My consciousness was weaving in and out. The stench of sweat and blood smothered the air. I was slowly drifting away.

The stink was even worse that cursed night or maybe the memory was all too vivid – the pungent smell of stale bourbon, sweat and my own blood was all too fresh in my mind.

My own screams still strangled my sleep many nights. The agony in my pleas made me shudder again. The pain of betrayal. The pain of torture. All it took was a few moments of high for him to forget that I was human. I was used to his content and thrown over to another, like a cheap doll.

“One more, Anna. Just one more.”, a voice broke into my thoughts. The enormous effort to open my eyes nearly knocked me out again. The screams of agony resonating in my head was cut off by the piercing cry that rent the air. I was jolted back to my senses.

“It’s a boy”, said the nurse, as she showed me the tiny bundle. I tried lifting my weak arms for him, but failed miserably.

The orphanage was already decided, the papers were signed. His home was waiting for him. The nine months had nearly made me deranged. In a few hours, I shall be free again. I won’t be carrying the reminder with me anymore. But, I was curious.

I lifted my arms again and the nurse hesitantly placed the bundle in my arms. She hovered nearby. 

I looked at the sleeping face – so small, so fragile. I was here because one man made the choice, to destroy me. This innocent soul was here because I made a different choice.

“Neither of us got the chance to have our say, did we?”, I murmured to him. He yawned and opened his eyes. A child born of hate, not love. He had my eyes. A stray thought wandered in my mind. 

His tiny fingers wrapped around my finger. 

“No. I won’t let go.”, I whispered the promise.

Photo courtesy : Pinterest

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