By: J.J. Cheesman
This letter is for you, the father of my child. It was only nine short months ago that you came into my life and changed it forever. I hardly even knew you. It seemed that you came and left in a flash, leaving no trace of yourself behind. Meanwhile, I had to care for the burden you left me with all by myself. That’s a horrible thing to say isn’t it? A mother calling her child a burden is certainly no fit mother at all, but it’s true.
It’s not like I didn’t TRY to make the best of it, but given the circumstances, I am sure you can see how that was difficult to do. For nine grueling months I carried your seed in my belly. I went to doctor visits alone, I went through the back pain alone, and I went through all the cravings, all alone. Oh, and the morning sickness was something really special too. Wouldn’t you know I went through several mornings puking up blood? Hell, the first time I vomited like that I thought the baby was done for, but no. Like my contempt for you, your child endured.
It’s been far too long since I’ve spoken to my own family, what in the hell would they think I wonder? Having a child like this, out of wedlock? Jesus, I would never hear the end of it. The world has been cruel enough to me, I don’t relish the thought of my own mother calling me a whore. I wonder if you even have a family, what sort of mother would love someone like you?
The loneliness was the real nightmare, to be honest. Late at night I would wonder if all of the pain and misery was worth it, if I shouldn’t just grab a bottle of pills and end it all. But, when those thoughts came, I would place my hand on my stomach and feel my child move and thrash as if in a defiant protest to live. That alone was enough to keep me going, to see through the darkness and the misery, to maybe see the light at the end of the tunnel. Well, the time to see the light came, and it came quick.
When the baby was ready to come out, the pain was crippling. I tried to get out of bed and make my way to the front door, but I was floored by the blinding, burning pain in my stomach. God it felt like I was being ripped apart by the inside out. But I pushed, and I heaved, and before I knew it, the baby had been born. Strangely, after the child came, all of the pain I had felt from birth had gone away. It was a relief I must admit, but I took one look at the writhing and fleshy infant on the floor and all of my hate and animosity toward you flooded into my might at the sight of it. I stood and raised my foot to crush its head, but I couldn’t. God help me I couldn’t.
I sit here now in the living room, while that beast is wailing and crying in… what? Fear maybe? Perhaps hunger? Maybe both. It doesn’t matter, the pills I’ve taken will make sure that I go soon enough, and that bastard child will most likely die of hunger. That is, unless you come back for it, but you haven’t been here in nine months, why would you come now?
My conciseness is fading, I can tell, because I barely hear the crying anymore. There was a bright flash of light, and the crying ceased. A hallucination, no doubt.
I wonder, do you know what you’ve done to me and your child? Do you even care? No probably not. Oh my, I’ve just realized the irony of today. Believe it or not, it made me laugh.
Happy Father’s Day, you worthless alien bastard.