Her Dirty Secret [Down Draft]

Chapter XIX

Chapter Nineteen

"Do you want to hold him?" My mother asked me.

"No. Just take him away."

"...Do you have a name?"

"No."

She looked at me sadly and took the baby boy away.

I lay on the bed staring at the wall angrily.

Why is it that I won't be able to love my first child? This should have been the happiest moment of my life. Instead, it was one of the worst.

I could hear him crying in the next room, the infirmary section, which they had cleared and cleaned for this purpose. His cries made me angry. He was a baby so he couldn't help it, but I couldn't help but feel this anger.

After a while, the cries stopped and everyone in the room left. In a couple of days, Chris would decide who this baby would go to.

A couple hours later, I woke up to the sound of his cries. It angered me that no one could hear him but me.

Couldn't they move me, or him?

As his cries continued and no one would come, my anger snapped. I stood slowly on shaky feet and wobbled myself over to the door that separated us.

No one was in the room when I opened the door, no one except him.

He was in a crib that took the place of one of the beds closest to the door. From where I was standing, I could see his hands stick out, wiggling from the top of the crib.

I walked over to him, determined to shut him up somehow, though I didn't know how exactly I was going to do that.

I marched myself over to his crib and saw him for the first time.

He was beautiful. His soft, pink baby skin, and chubby legs and cheeks mesmerized me. When I looked at his eyes is when something inside of me changed.

Large blue orbs looked directly into my eyes like he knew exactly who I was, though he still cried. They swallowed my soul. He had a head full of solid black hair. He had tiny hands and feet and itty bitty fingernails.

Without thinking, I reached down with both hands and put them under his arms, lifting him up slowly.

I held him against me. His head lay against my chest, right under my chin, my hand on his butt keeping him up, and my other hand was rubbing his back soothingly.

The wolf inside of me purred. He was calming down, but I guessed he was hungry.

He was so soft and he fit perfectly against my chest. I rocked back and forth, trying my best to console him. Eventually, he calmed and quieted into a deep slumber.

His little hand was attached to my finger.

I couldn't fathom the fact that I was going to let someone else raise him; let someone else love him. He was beautiful. He was a perfect little boy.

I gotta pang of sadness, of hatred, and anger every time I looked at him, but it was only for a minute, and I quickly got over it when I stared into his eyes; when I saw his innocence and realized he was not his father.

How was I ever going to give him away?

I sat on my bed now, holding him in my arms. I was reluctant to let him go.