Hide and Seek: The Child
I can hear voices. I feel the warmth of a hand touching me gingerly. “Are you sure?” asks a soft, quavering voice.
“It’s positive, Kayla,” says a second female voice. “I’m sorry.”
Kayla. That’s her name. My mother. We are playing a game. I am hiding here inside her, where it is warm and dark and safe. I like it here.
But who is seeking me? That’s how the game is played, isn’t it? One hides and the other seeks. But there is a catch, which makes the game even more exciting. If they catch even a tiny glimpse of me, even for an instant, we lose. But I’m not worried. No one can hurt me here.
“This is bad, Callie. This is really bad.”
We lean a little as Callie places her hand on my mother’s shoulder. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”
My mother sits. I can feel her body move slightly and there is a humming below us as we turn in different directions. We stop.
“What am I going to do, Callie?” asks my mother.
“Well you don’t want it, do you?” Callie returns.
“Why would I? My God, my parents are gonna kill me when they find out. What am I supposed to do?” I can feel my mother’s panic as acutely as if it was my own and I want to comfort her. “Oh God, it’s moving! Make it stop!”
“You’ve got to get a hold of yourself, Kayla!” I can feel my mother being shaken, and I shift uncomfortably. I don’t like this rattling.
My mother sighs and I feel her run a hand through her hair. I feel almost everything she does. “You’re right. What should I do?”
“I’ll take you. I’ve got a study hall first period tomorrow that I can cut without too much trouble. Your parents will never even have to know.”
“Are you sure? They can’t find out, can they?”
“No, there’s some kind of privacy law or something. It won’t take long, and I’ll drive you home afterward. You can just tell your mom you were too sick to stay at school. How far along are you?”
My mother shrugs. “I don’t know. Three months or so.”
“Then you’re not too late. I promise this will make everything right again.”
I can feel my mother sigh again; this time she is relieved. I am glad she feels better. I shift again, just to let her know everything is all right. Her hand goes to her abdomen and I become still. I suppose she doesn’t mind Callie knowing I am here.
“Thanks Callie,” she says and I feel her stand. There is a slamming noise, then a creak, and we’re somewhere safe. We’ve been here before.
My mother sits quietly and places her hand over me once more. “Friday,” she murmurs. “Tomorrow, all of this will be over.”
Suddenly, the feeling of security is gone and replaced with one of fear. What is going to happen?
When we wake up the next morning, my mother hugs her mother—my grandmother—and travels to school. Somewhere in the distance, a bell rings and a cacophony of feet moving toward different rooms frightens me. I try to remain calm but I curl up slightly. I remember I am safe inside my mother, here in my comfortable hiding place. No one knows I’m here; we’re still winning the game.
A door clicks and the loud noise is shut out. All that is left is a few voices, speaking quietly.
“You’re late, Kayla,” Callie’s voice. “I’ll probably have to speed now. If I miss any of second period we’re both caught. Come on.”
“I’m sorry.” I feel my mother being pulled by her arm. “I had to make up an excuse for my mom. She kept asking all kinds of questions about why I needed to come early.”
As we drive along, I can tell my mother is nervous. But about what? I shift slightly, just so she’ll know I’m here. Her baby. I hear her soft intake of breath and I decide that perhaps I startled her. I resolve to be more motionless.
“We’re here,” says a Callie, and we stop.
My mother climbs out and we step inside a place we have not been there before. Immediately, I am filled with cold fear. This is not a good place. What is my mother doing? Will they find me?
We shouldn’t be here! my mind cries out. I think my mother hears me, for she grows more agitated.
“I’m ready,” she says. No! I don’t know what’s happening, but it can’t be good. Panic fills me. My mother is ruining our game.
My mother and Callie are ushered into a cold room. My trepidation grows.
“Sign here,” says a female voice. I don’t like this voice. It is empty and utterly devoid of compassion. I am afraid of it.
Don’t sign! I want to scream, but I feel my mother do so anyway.
“It won’t hurt, will it?” she asks tentatively.
“Of course not,” the woman reassures her.
“I’m right here,” Callie says, squeezing my mother’s hand.
Don’t hurt my mother, I want to say. Leave her alone!
The door we came through opens and shuts again. A male voice speaks and I learn that he is a doctor. Perhaps he will help my mother. She is so afraid. I hope she isn’t sick.
“If you’ll just lie down here, miss,” says the doctor.
I feel my mother comply. The very air in the room feels as though it is filled with pure terror.
“I’m scared,” my mother whispers.
“It’s okay,” Callie says. “You’ll be all right. This is the end of your problems.”
My mother screams and suddenly, I am wracked with pain. They found me.
I feel as though my life is being sucked away, and it is torture like I never knew existed. My mother and I are both screaming, our bodies filled with agony.
“Oh God!” my mother cries.
“Shut her up,” orders the hard female voice and I am vaguely aware of Callie’s hand being clamped over my mother’s mouth.
“Shh…” she says to my mother. “It’s almost over.”
I feel myself being pulled out of my mother. I cling desperately to her, but I’m not strong enough. If I could, I would be crying. We lost the game; they found me.
Then, abruptly, my anguish is over. There is no more pain. I am filled with warmth as I feel myself being lifted out of the machine. They are gentle hands that carry me to my new hiding place. Heavenly hands.
I can see my mother now. She’s so beautiful, but she is weeping, sobbing as though a part of her has been stolen. I want to reach out to her but I cannot. It’s too late.
I look away from my mother’s heart-wrenching form and tilt my face upward. I can see light. My suffering is over. I feel myself float upward, resting in the arms of my Protector. And now, I am home.
For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.
Psalm 139:13
I don't have crit, I like it as it is.
