Genesis: The Beginning

Knowledge

W A R N I N G !

This chapter deals with refrences to physical/sexualtorture.

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| Let's back up a bit again...|
| February's were nice.|

2060, February
I woke up at about 3 in the morning thanks to Exodus's wailing. He was difficult to please. Nothing made him happy, not his mamá's milk, not a song or even carrying and a pat on the back. He was perfectly clean, no dumps in the diaper and no burps to be fixed.

2 hours later, he'd worn himself and me down into nothing more than irritable, tired wrecks on the sofa. He still refused to sleep, however, whining whenever I left him in the crib or crying when I tried to disappear anyway.

So I had no choice but to bring him to bed with me, singing a random tune in my head. He fisted his chubby hands into the loose white shirt I wore, sniffling away tears as I wriggle onto my bed, having to manoeuvre carefully to ensure I didn't trip over the sheets or drop him on accident.

I lay on my side in bed, baby Exodus curled up under my arm, his head resting on my other. His eyes are closed and his breathing is easy.

I hum a small lullaby, tugging the covers up higher, tucking it under Exodus' chin. I gaze at him, memorising every single feature. His lips are parted just the slightest bit, exposing toothless gums. He has tiny tufts of dark brown hair starting to sprout from his head. When I smooth a hand gently over his fragile skull, his skin is milky white and creamy soft.

He has a small bridge and a rounded, slightly upturned nose. I brush my lips over his head and he snuggles closer to me, his eyes blinking tiredly, but resolutely open.

"Come on Edus. It's too early in the morning. Don't you want mamá to sleep a little? I mean, you can not sleep, I don't mind but I'm reaally tired, cranky, Bridget's coming in the late morning and I haven't finished cleaning the house." I tilt my head, staring into his eyes with mock sternness.

In response, he slaps me on the nose several times.

I sigh as I flinch away from his flapping hand, poking him in the tummy in revenge. "Edus. Stop it." He continues to flop his hand into my cheek, shoving my jaw in with his insistent poking. "Stop it," I whine, wrinkling my nose.

He giggles when I tickle him under his chin and shoves a foot painfully into my stomach.

The bat slams down repeatedly over my abdomen, unrelenting. Over, and over, and over and over and over again and again, again and again, and again. They repeat their vulgar slurs, blood and tears and all kinds of fluids staining my face.

I'm gasping, wriggling in my bonds.

You bigoted men will never understand. I fought for the position I am in now.

You don't deserve to lord yourself over us. You're a woman. You should be on your knees, servicing us.

You think you can break me?

Don't worry. We'll beat the defiance out of her.

I'm not afraid of you.

We're realists. You're a dreamer, thinking you can deserve to be a captain.

This. This is what you deserve.

Stand up and fight.

Look at her. She's practically screaming for it.

Stand.

You should learn your place.

Stand?

At our feet.

stand...

On your knees.

Head down.

Don't talk.

Don't move.

Just listen.

Good girl.

Good doggie.

Stand up and fight!

A sob escapes my lips and Exodus stops his assault. Tears bubble up in my eyes, trapped under eyelashes and pride. I haven't cried. Not since then, not since ever. I can't cry now. I really, really shouldn't be crying because my wonderful, amazing, awful baby just kicked me in the stomach.

He whines, patting gently at my chest now. The tears spill and I press a fisted hand to my lips, suppressing another sob.

"Oh, Edus." I press my chin over his head and he nosed my neck as the tears spill.

He taps his hand on my collarbone, head bumping into my chin as he looks up at me. He whimpers too, my negative emotions mixing with his, churning the atmosphere and turning it sour.

"Oh, cariño, lo siento mucho. Soy un desastre. Trabajaré más duro, ser una mejor madre. Lo prometo." I murmur, sniffing. A few of his own tears stain my shirt and he whines, gripping to my sleeve tightly. "Yo me ocuparé de ti. Yo te cuidaré. No temáis al diablo ni a sus hombres."

I murmur soft nothings and assurances to Exodus, stroking him gently as I place him close to my chest, pressing my nose into his soft head. I switch intermittently between Spanish and German and then going back to English until he and I settle into nothing more than quiet sniffling.

By the time the doorbell rings, Exodus had just fallen asleep. Eyes puffy and red with bedraggled hair, I eased Exodus gently off me and padded over to the door.

Bridget takes one look at me before taking me in her arms. "Gen, what happened?"

The hug unravels me and I hiccup once before I'm sobbing again. My legs buckle underneath me and Bridget has to sink down with me to ensure I don't fall. I bury my face into the crook of her neck, howling and crying painfully, my fingers twisting themselves over her shoulder blades.

When I'm done crying, tears, snot and spittle stain her shirt and I apologise profusely. I wipe my tears and nose with the back of my hand furiously as I dig through my wardrobe for something that will fit Bridget.

I hand to her a plain blue shirt and she pulls off the messy green one she has on. I put it in the wash as she quickly pulls on the shirt I've lent her.

A few moments later we're sitting across each other, a cup of steaming coffee in her hands, and camomile tea in mine. I stare down at the swirling liquid, watching my rippled reflection in the hot tea. It smells warm and comforting. I put my nose close to the rim, doing nothing but breathing in the soothing scents while Bridget sips hers. Silence reigns for the moment and I'm perfectly fine with that.

"It's alright to cry, you know that right?" Bridget finally says. I look up, my eyes still a little puffy and red at the edges. I remain silent, giving only a small timid sniff in response. "You went through a traumatic ordeal. You don't have to act all tough. Sometimes it's good to cry," she continues. I nod numbly, tears prickling my eyes again.

Whore.

"Come here, honey." She smiles at me, patting the table.

I get up from my chair and walk around the table. She shifts and I sit beside her. She puts her arms around me, pulling me close and leaning her head on my shoulder. I put an arm around her too, leaning my head on hers. It's the position we used to take as children when we wanted to say something serious or had some emotional things to get through. I suppose this is one of those times. I swallow, rolling the words in my mouth and playing out how I should say this. How can I say this without breaking down? I pull myself together as best as I can, taking a deep breath.

"I... I feel so... So awful," I start. "It's... They... They made me do all these things and...And I need to prove them... Prove them wrong... And I know I shouldn't be affected but..." A hiccup escapes my lips. "I... I was just so filthy and disgusting and..." I squeeze my eyes and raise a hand to shakily cover my face.

"It's alright Genni. Just let it out. Let it all out." She rubs my shoulder, mumbling soft 'it's going to be okay's and 'it'll get better's to me.