She asked for a pair of scissors to cut away her. Umbilical cord. The cord of life. I refused.
I saw a Woman. With guilt and shame. In her eyes.
Eyes that mirror my own.
Not my blood. I could manage.
Not my child. I could cope.
Affairs. I could accept.
Not love. I could pretend.
Murdering an innocent life. I would not tolerate.
I responded with a firm and resolute “NO”.
She took the scissors anyway. Behind my back. As usual.
“Give me a pair of scissors. I want to cut it away.”
“Please, relax and calm yourself. We have to approach this delicately.
It’s a life we’re talking about he—.”
“Give it to me.
I beg you.”
“…You dug your own grave.”
“You Men are all the same. Hypocrites. You want to watch me suffer now?”
“Those were nightmares. They’ll go aw—“
“NO! Don’t you DARE tell me they’ll go away!
They have been h-haunting me for FIVE BLOODY YEARS
and they ARE STILL HAUNTING ME!
Those…men… I’ve slept with.
You also cheated, didn’t you?”
My metal blades dangled cruelly near the entrance of her lips, working their way around. Eviscerating their way around. Blood pooled as screams filled.
Smooth skin. Marred flesh.
Pink lining. Torn tissue.
Self-inflicted by a fool.
Tearing the unborn apart, amniotic sac pierced. Membrane ruptured. Amniotic fluid rushed forth. My blades, still cold and sharp.
Its head. No longer a head.
Its torso. No longer attached.
Its tiny hands and feet. No more.
Through sin I cut, sinful I am.
Against the Woman. Against the Man. Again and again.