that there was something missing

There is nothing, I am nothing— a lifeless form that resembles a child, a mistake given a physical body. I am regret, ignorance, a malicious plot that failed to work. I am composed of sorrow and war, sweat and cunning, wrapped up into one single being— what I am is nothing beautiful, nothing refined and graceful, a disaster to ruin lives, merciless and unforgiving. What I am is the consequence of a quick fuck, a needy brute and convenient woman, created out of their needs rather than want. I was a mistake.

The world I enter is nothing from the world I have come to know, wet and warm and although uncomfortable, kind. It does not hurt, does not blind me with blaring light or deafen me with unfiltered sound, it is gentle and tentative to my needs. It is all that encompasses kindness and love, however unwilling, but such great things do not last long, as I come to learn. This new world is open, an expanse of all too bright, a great contrast to the womb I'd inhabited— the brisk cold of fresh air makes my skin crawl with unwelcome cold, body quivering in response to my new environment.  I seek the warmth again, the comfort of familiarity, the welcomed quiet of entombment— I will not find it.

I find neglect and distress, confusion as the first steps of life are forgotten in favour of observation. Rather than preening, swiping careful licks across a smooth coat, it is amber boring into new flesh and my silent cry is a half-assed attempt at attention. I need to be warm again, to find myself nestled beneath caring wings and the focus of affectionate praise, the epitome of mother-child bonding. But no, I wait another grueling stretch of time before the well sought after cleanse comes, washing away the evidence of my birth and my parents' sin— I am fresh and precious, eyes open and wandering over the chestnut body that looms before me (Mamma). She is all that is there, the only being in this world to witness the grand entrance of an important new life, wavering amber distracted from my aureate eyes. And there it comes, the first and last moment I will ever have with such a kind woman.

The face I've only known for a brief moment is gone, transformed into the ugliness and cold that I would soon visualize as the world itself, the only thing I have ever seen. It is my whole world, this blur of green and vibrant terror— that is all it is made of, open fields and demons wearing guises. In those next seconds my heart rate rises, tiny organ pounding against my breast as deceivingly soft words are pulled slowly from Mamma's lips, daunting and savage as her teeth overwhelm my vision. All I see is red, pouring across the left side of my face and taking over the bright world I'd only just begun to see— newborn children should be welcomed with love, with tender kisses to soft cheeks, not with blunt teeth tearing away at easy tissue. There is goes, a blackness I will soon learn to accept, a dreaded nothingness that my mind will soon reflect.

This pain is unspeakable, my tired body wallowing in the grasses as I attempt to flounder my way away from the mad, teeth clacking together as something snaps and the left side goes dark, the searing agony of the disconnection enough to make my throat open up— out comes an onslaught of panicked screams, gargled syllables caught in my mouth as I feel her teeth strike at my face, grasping her next prize triumphantly. It comes with far less of a fight, my head light and weary as she gnaws and pulls, out it comes. The world is solely nothing, an empty space filled with the sounds of my faint cries— these are my first and only cries for help. The rest will come silently, with furrowed brows and scarred lips, uneasy hooves and misplaced steps. For a moment, I begin to assume that this is life, that it hurts, that it's supposed to feel this hopeless and disgusting, that it always will (I'm almost right).

I fall apart beneath the pressures of pain, gasping and panting as it becomes increasingly harder to recognize that I am still awake, that I am a real thing and my pain is real— the extra appendages I was barely aware of are reduced to nothingness, broken and dismantled in the blink of an eye— their destruction is irreversible, it is all irreversible. I have no hopes of witnessing the world in full bloom, it soaring above the clouds and watching life flourish beneath me, I am a maimed and discarded dream, the definition of regret. I will come to accept this.

Valdís, she says. Valdís? It is the second time I hear her speak, this time sorrowful, despairing syllables to fall from parted lips. I can hear the wetness of her tears, dripping against the ground as she watches over me like a false protector, a lie to make me feel safe (I do)— I do not understand that she is naming me, that Valdís is me. I am Valdís, but that does not register. What does is that I will soon die, that the blood from my eyes will soon thin and I will slip into deeper shock and never wake up.

Mamma's hooves leave my body, her quiet steps moving farther and farther from me until she is but a memory in my mind— she was a softness, light and wonderful for only a split second, becoming a threat, a sharpened edge that wore malice. It was a gamble on which side I would get (the bad one). She comes back now, still crying (I can here them, pit pat pit pat) against the ground, can feel them against my body. She is precise and gentle this time, the love behind her movement is enough to convince me that perhaps she did it out of kindness, out of the love in her tattered heart. Mamma is careful, working with my empty sockets and sobbing in silence to herself, whispering to an unknown someone as she works slowly. The wet of my face subsides, the false tears stopped with her swift handy work. She murmurs gently into my ear, pressing the delicate velvet of her nose into my rear in an attempt to get me to stand. I do not.

Sia, she says, another thing I do not know. Another thing of great importance, to never be forgotten.

-- testing the waters with her, idk also amara leaves to clean herself up and get things to attempt and stop the bleeding, if that was unclear