To Keep You

Twenty-Three: Olive

Fear is said to have grown within oneself, but I disagree with that theory. No, I believe sometimes or rather most often fear is planted within us by that small voice within our heads that whispers our deepest fears. It's like a mirror to the darkest parts of our souls that even ourselves fear to look upon.

Normal people ignore the violent thoughts that intrude their peaceful thoughts, and once upon a time I did too.

But as I sit, shaking in a chair within a gloomy office, I stare down upon my bloody knuckles and wonder if I have ever been normal. If the voice inside my head was truly just a voice representing my fears or if it was precisely just my own. If it was the voice of the darkest depths of my soul reminding me of just how dark and gritty I truly am.

I nearly wanted to laugh in dry amusement at that realization, but I controlled myself and bit my lip as laughing would not be appreciated in this moment.

Officer Smith, glared between me and Jackson, before pinning her eyes on Jackson, "And just who are you?"

Her glare was intense and even as her eyes were not on me, I could not stop myself from shifting nervously in my seat. However, Jackson simply met her fiery stare with an intense cold one.

"A friend." He answered with a shrug as if her stare did little to nerve him.

I glanced between the petit blonde and the towering beast known as Jackson. Officer Smith stood by the closed door, blocking the path; I suppose to prevent either of us from fleeing. Opposite to her stiff, straight spined position, Jackson leaned against the desk. His ankles crossed and his arms folded over his chest. I could hardly tare my eyes away from the sight of his flesh resting against pure metal, but with a sigh I threw my glaze elsewhere.

Officer Smith frowned, "And does this 'friend' have a name?" Her voice barely above a sneering tone, regarded Jackson as if he, himself was involved in the fight. On a level I did not blame her for such thoughts, in her eyes I'm an emotionally unwell woman who could be easily manipulated. And he is a man who might as well have appeared out of thin air.

He shrugged his shoulders once more, "Jackson." He regarded her with such disinterest that her skin bristled with anger and the air within the cramped office became fridged.

Candidly, I was the root of this current issue and yet I did not wish to even whisper a word. I was stunned by my own bizarre and hair-raising actions. I knew to some level that they are justifiable and yet, a small voice within me was scolding me for them. All I could do was hang my head in shame like a dog out in the rain.

Sighing loudly, officer Smith pitched the bridge of her nose, "You gave birth not even two weeks ago, you should be taking it easy not hurdling over a nurses desk like a freaking feral dog!"

I preferred to be a feral cat; I pursed my lips to contain my objection.

Taking my silence as disrespectful, she continued, "You have a two-week-old daughter! You should be at home with her, not here attacking the nurses who are just trying to do their jobs."

My eyes narrowed as she brought up Rah'chayl, she questioned me about her so often that I wondered if she thought I failed to remember my own child. How can I forget about Rah'chayl? She came from my womb; she was once one with me. Her soul was crafted within me along with her heart. I know her like the back of my hand. She is my daughter and forever will be. No sin will drive her away from me. She very may have stolen a piece of my own soul, for I would burn this world to ash to protect her.

Becoming a mother has opened my eyes to how God views us, His children. It chills me to my very core to imagine what He would do to protect us. If I am willing to burn the world to nothing but ash for my own daughter, then to simply imagine what lengths He would reach to protect us, brings both comfort and fear to my very soul.