This wasn't supposed to happen— things weren't supposed to go like this. I- I didn't mean to.. I don't know what happened. I just- I did it. I'm sorry, I'm sorry please forgive me what have I done. What have I done to you?

The child, I should have killed it before it came out, before it totaled my womb and tainted me so. I should have starved it out, killed us both. I should have let it rot in there, let it waste away and never let my thoughts linger on it again. I should have done it, should have done it before I brought unnecessary destruction and force, overwhelmed by a need to get it away. All I saw was gold, tattered remnants of too much yet too little. There was gold, soaking in fresh blood, it was everywhere— I could taste it in the back of my throat, feel it caked to my lips. The unpleasant feeling of thick, wet red against curled lips made my stomach quiver, discontent with the taste. And the smell.

Fluids were grotesque, slick and oily the child's skin had been disgusting as it spilled out from between my legs, oblivious to the hatred already growing in my heart. I only needed a push and a shove, a reason for such merciless violence— and it was given to me. With the opening of preciously tinted eyes, metallic and haunting (I- I can't. It reminds me too much of him) as they swallowed up the world. In the moments after, when my body convulsed and tongue tasted bitterly like iron and mucus, I felt the deep regret guilt. I wanted to clean away the evidence, wanted to dump the child into the water and pray that she was never found, never pitied and looked down upon— I wanted her to die. But she was here at my feet, wet with her own blood and my tears, gasping frantically at the overwhelming panic of the situation.

Shock—

She's probably going into shock. My throat is closed, my head light and breathing laboured as I address her wounds with a far less than professional hand, weary and cautious. I was so aware of the damage done, the etchings of my teeth carved into her face, where they began to grow deeper as I'd neared the eye, sought to take. I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'msorryI'msosorry. The urgency of the situation still hadn't set in, the idea of losing her when I'd already signed away my life to have her— I worked as quickly as I could, messily trying to dress the wounds with what little experience I had (dammit, dammit! What am I doing?). The tears were just another obstacle to overcome, swallowing gasps of air between shaky movements as the child remained still and quiet. She lost the will to fight.

My body moves faster than I can register, knowing well enough it is neither Sameira or Them. They left once the damage was dealt, fading away into the edges of my vision to relish in the fact that they'd succeeded. My eyes were dull and cautious coming upon the titan, settling on the blackness of a body so foreign yet familiar. My body cries out in anguish, knowing full well who this man was and what he had done. I sought to ruin him too. It was he who brought this upon me, who selfishly took me apart for his own benefit, who dare not contact me until now. I do not remember anything about our encounter at all, just that it is he who is responsible for the child.

I want to scream at him, to stomp my hooves and raise hell. I sought vengeance for my innocence, to reap him of something of equal value, to take and take and leave him there— I felt irrationally angry, seething with a clear rage I hadn't felt in a long time. "There is a someone, he smells like Zhu." He is here, Sameira. He is here. I can feel the contortion of her face, drawing back from the storm that brewed within me— smells like Zhu. She closes herself off again, becoming something distant and almost unnoticeable as I focus solely on the man before me.

That's what brought it, that unconscious recognition, the similarities between child and man— though faint and almost unrecognizable, the final piece was Sameira's lingering words, burned into the back of my mind. I don't know what I feel, don't know how to express it. "Take his eyes too," comes from somewhere to my left. My ear falls towards it, eyes still firmly set on the man in black as he growled out something about ruining whomever had done this. I did not flinch, even as his spit flew and his anger was so blatantly obvious— I would have submitted under normal circumstances, would have put my hands up and wept of my defeat. But I was livid, disgusted.

"You." It comes out almost like a hiss, a word caught up between clenched teeth and a tight throat. (I know what you've done, what you do) I want to break him, to bellow triumphantly as his bones contort beneath me and his body bends the way I want it to— no. I have to get it together, I have to stop. "Who ever said you needed to stop? Please, go on. Ruin him." Now I turn, watching them stand beside me, between the child and the father, licking their lips with an unnaturally long tongue. They could never be satisfied, always hungering for more, lusting after the prospect of new blood spilled at their hooves— they were relentless, eager to take what they could and give nothing back.

The name Nazli had sailed over my head, forgotten in my burning rage. It burns away, consumed by the flames of fury, discarded among the ashes of other tattered memories. I was too focused, too keen on knowing the truth. The words brew within me, barbaric and threatening as I linger over the child, teeth grinding together as she lies completely still, terrified of the consequences of movement. I cannot tell if I am mad at him completely, or if there is bitterness towards myself as well for being unable to be there when Sia needed me most— I had been drowning in self-loathing and crippling depression, had wallowed pitifully in the depths of my despair and let him take her.

I want so desperately to blow up in his face, to beat him senseless and wail at how unfair life was, at how shitty it was— how much I wish it wasn't this way. I stand with uncertainty and a tight gut, queasy as I wither, falling apart before him. It was he who had been there, who had helped her in a time of need— not me. I swallow harshly and face him with loose knees, forcing the words from my lips. "Thank you," I whisper, so quiet he may not even hear it. "You were there for her and I was just a mess, a pitiful god damn mess hating myself somewhere so far away— and there's no way for me to repay you, and now there's her." My eyes drift to the baby, voice fading away into something hushed, as if any louder and she may startle. Amber eyes solidify, a moment of bitterness returning because I have not forgot— no, I still remember very well what he's done. "But don't think I hate you any less for what you did to her. Stay away from her, because I swear to the gods if you touch her again— Zhu is the result of all you'll ever get from her." I wanted to spit in his face and snarl further, but backed off.

He probably thought I was crazy, speaking so vaguely of a common person (perhaps not a common person at all, maybe I've misunderstood), thanking him and threatening him for the treatment of said person. Of Sia. I did not deserve her, did not even have her— she was a star in an unfathomably large sky, and I just a fractured, weathered statue gaping at all the twinkling lights above me. I would never reach her.

"I- I don't know what got to her. I'm so stupid for leaving her... it was only a moment, I was only gone for a moment." I'm tripping over my words, trying to formulate something— anything. I didn't want to face the facts, didn't want to come to terms with the fact that I did know what got to her, that I could explain every excruciating detail. I wouldn't. "I'm so sorry." I don't know who I'm apologizing to, who this apology is meant for. I feel so defeated, so sluggish and distant that I'm not even sure I'm conscious right now, half expecting to wake up in a panic at the edge of the Throat. But this is no dream, and I won't wake up. Not anytime soon.