Taboo: Bittersweet Revenge (Sequel)

Inmate Running the Asylum

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For the 3rd time this hour, his subtle cry abruptly snaps me out of my haze. I can't remember the last time I actually lay my head down closed my eyes for more than 5 minutes willingly. That's how paranoid I was. Anywhere my baby was, I was. But lately, trouble had a way of following me everywhere I went. Starting to believe I was exactly how everyone describes me, a ticking time bomb.

With every crazy thought or fear imaginable accompanying me, it was only now that I understood how Christian and rest of the boys feel every day. I don't know how they're able to hide it either.

There's really no way to describe what it felt like. It's like it bundles up your worst fears and magnifies them 10 times. Add to that, the lack of sleep, replaced by paranoia every moment I feel my eyes close for even a second.

Rubbing my eyes from the lack of sleep, I pick up my son and cradle him in my arms. It's only been a few days yet I know the difference from his hungry cry to poop cry. This time, it was just a warning cry, the 'I'm awake so give me attention' cry. A better explanation, the bitter cold draft coming from the window could be the reason why he wasn't getting any sleep. And it was rubbing off on me.

Of course I knew motherhood want going to be easy, but after my diagnosis I thought that prospect was pretty far fetched. Yet even through my fatigue, I kept reminding myself how lucky I was to even have a child before my eyes. That's what made it all worthwhile, and that's what kept a trace of a smile on my face everytime I look at him, even though I was suffering profusely, looking down at him made all my troubles seem so distant.

Sitting back down on the rocking chair, I lay the baby across my body, and began to breastfeed. See, these were the moments you want remember when your baby is born, the breastfeeding, the baths, the light that radiates from my smile every time I look at him. But, I wasn't 'feeling' any of it. I felt withdrawn from my emotions.

I had become the very thing I've been trying to prevent. I had become one of Argents monsters and it's eating away at what little sanity I had left.

How do I explain having a baby, with my normal flattened stomach, zero cravings, yet he was born fully developed and exceptionally healthy at only 6 and a half months? And finding out I was a used as a guinea pig/weapon for Argent and Styles was the perfect icing on top of the cake! That's fucking insane! That's where my life is at right now!

This past month I never understood why I was emotionally withdrawn, especially after they exploited Heath's death to coerce me into making countless questionable calls. I had no regard for anything or anyone around me. For a while I let it sink in until I couldn't bare anymore of that numbing pain.

Not that my drinking helped any. Me being the raging alcoholic I am, I never went a day without Hennessey, beer, vodka, whiskey and a shitload of shots to try to trigger any memories I lost. I had no prenatal care so God only knows if that affected my son at any moment.

When he's finally drifted off to sleep a short amount of time, I lay him down back into the crib and rewind the lullaby. I pause and reflect for single moment, thinking how much I would enjoy these moments better if it hadn't been for the bad timing.

My aching body craved sleep, but my paranoia denied me that rights. In the space of 4 hours, he'd woken up countless. It's not like I have the best role model to go off on parenting. One is the monster that exploited me, the other one, well, I couldn't even remember what she's done because she was absent most of my childhood, and I haven't wanted anything to do with her for 5 damn years. I just hope it stays that way forever and I don't have to see her again.

But I've always lived in the moment. Even when I was pregnant that last time, I never looked further that the moment I was in because of what was happening around me. I never looked at the bugger picture because of the mayhem ensuing.