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And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat.
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp.
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
–William Blake
Mothers hold their children's hands for a while, but their hearts forever
–Unknown
Karen allowed herself the luxury of contentment; things were–finally–going to be okay.
There was a park down by the waterfront where Sarah could play when the weather warmed up.
She was so tired of running away; it was time to make a home, for both their sakes.
Karen looked at the clock on the wall above the sink, just after midnight...she'd been asleep for almost an hour. The sound of Sarah crying had woken her.
She went down the hall to see her little girl was sitting up in bed, tears streaming down her face, eyes squeezed tight shut.
"Momma! Momma!" she cried over and over again. "Monster!"
Karen sat, humming a soothing melody as she stroked Sarah's hair back off her forehead.
"There aren't any monsters here, baby. Momma's right here, you're safe now."
A twinge of guilt tugged at her; how badly had Sarah been affected from living with the girl's father?
Charlie.
What those little eyes had seen, what those little ears had heard–there'd been too many monsters in her life.
Karen hoped there'd never be another. The worst was behind them now.
This Mother's Day, she was committed to earning a good life for her baby girl if it killed her.
Karen pulled Sarah into her lap and hugged her tightly against her chest.
Kissed her little head and told her over and over, "I've got you, I love you. No more monsters, baby. Momma won't let them get you."
After what seemed an eternity, her daughter fell back against her pillows, breathing softly, exhausted and asleep.
She tucked Sarah under the covers, then lay down beside her and closed her own tired eyes.
Every year, Karen couldn't help but think about her first child; the baby she hadn't even gotten to hold.
That terrible night, on blood soaked sheets–
'Scream, whore! 'To the woman he said, I will greatly increase your pains in childbearing; with pain you will give birth to children. Your desire will be for your husband and he will rule over you.'
Granny's voice.
She shuddered at the memory...she had been so sure she would die.
And she wanted to, at only thirteen.
But Granny wouldn't allow it.
Had tied her down to her bed, and kept vigil until she'd delivered her unwanted burden.
Then the tiny, wailing bundle had been taken from her.
Taken from the house, while she sobbed in shame, pain and terror.
She never saw it again.
Had run away, as quickly and completely as she was able.
Karen found herself living from place to place with a revolving door of violent men.
Until Charlie.
She'd been desperate enough to believe that the sweet-talking, charming man who offered her his apartment when they'd met at a bar was a decent person.
For a while, he had been kind.
But then she'd gotten pregnant again, and everything went to hell.
He started hitting her, screaming that she was nothing but a whore, that she'd lied to him, trying to trap him into being with her.
When he'd beaten her so badly that she couldn't leave her bed for three weeks, that was when she knew it had to stop.
Karen was determined to end the cycle of abuse that seemed to be attached to the Keeny name. She packed what they had and she left.
Had been running ever since.
But now...they were finally free.
They had a home.
It wasn't much, but it was clean, quiet, safe.
She'd gotten Sarah out of that horrible environment, and now her baby girl could grow up safe and loved, and maybe she would never know the pain of a cruel hand.
Karen held her daughter tighter in her arms. Sarah was her second chance. She would protect this precious little life, no matter what.
"No more monsters, baby girl," she murmured. "I won't let anything happen to you."
Karen felt the warmth of her little daughter's body, the softness of her skin and her hair as she snuggled close.
This is all I need, she thought. This is family; what it's supposed to be like, what I wish it had always been like...
She must have drifted off–Karen didn't realize she was sleeping until she heard a noise.
A thump.
Then a man's voice, a crooning lilt that made her blood cold.
"Hush, little baby, don't say a word, Momma's gonna buy you a mockingbird...If that bird don't sing, Momma's gonna buy you a diamond ring..."
Karen's stomach dropped, and a sick feeling rose in her chest.
Where was–her heart stopped when she realized that she was alone in the bed.
"Sarah! Sarah!"
There was no answer; just an awful, low chuckle from somewhere in the dark.
Karen leapt out of bed, and stumbled towards her bedroom door.
She opened it to find the hall light was out, and the darkness beyond it seemed alive.
A shadow passed in front of her, a tall, thin silhouette.
In its arms–
"Monster, momma! Monster!" Sarah wailed, squirming in the figure's grasp.
"Let her go! Give me back my baby! Please, please, give her back! Don't hurt her! Don't you touch her!"
"No? Why, aren't you enjoying the impromptu family reunion, mother dear?"
A silky voice; the sound sent chills down Karen's spine.
He stepped closer and she could make out some details, despite the lack of light.
Tall, a spindly spider of a man; as if there was hardly enough flesh on him to cover his bones.
A long face, hollowed cheeks, a hawk-like nose. Eyes that glinted with a malicious intelligence beneath rounded spectacles.
"Don't you recognize me, Karen? You should. I've come home."
His eyes, that face...no, it wasn't possible–but they were alike.
So very alike.
She shook her head, trying to push the thought away.
No.
She took a tentative step forward, holding out her arms.
"Please, just give me back my baby–”
"Momma!" Sarah shrieked, reaching for her mother. "Want momma!"
"Now, now, little one. Be still. Momma needs to pay some attention to your big brother, now. We've been separated for far too many years, after all. And I think you'll agree, it's past due time we were properly introduced, hm?”
Big brother.
...he's…
my baby…
Her legs gave way underneath her and she fell heavily to the ground, head spinning.
How?
Granny said she buried it.
"You..."
Her throat was suddenly very dry.
The man laughed, a cracked and bitter chuckle.
"It's your baby boy, mother. Jonathan? Ah, but you wouldn't know about that, would you? Great Granny Keeny named me; after the son she never got to torture. Jonathan Crane–I wasn't worthy of being a Keeny. Seed of iniquity and all..."
Clicking his tongue as Sarah writhed, whimpering against his chest, he carded long, bony fingers through her fine hair as she sobbed.
"And what have we here? Oh, dear. That's the trouble with a bad seed, isn't it, mother? It just grows, on and on and..." He leaned close to Sarah's ear. "On."
Sarah's face crumpled and she began truly screaming.
Sarah; Karen forced herself to her feet.
"Stop, stop it! Let her go!"
"Such vehemence! Where was that energy, I wonder, all those years ago, when you left me to rot? Left me in the tender care of dear, sweet Granny?"
Something glinted in his free hand–oh, God.
A gun, he has a–!
"Oh dear, you're not paying attention, mother. Here I am, making a touching family gesture and you can think of nothing but this little brat."
He cocked the pistol and placed the muzzle to Sarah's forehead.
"Don't you want to ask after me? Aren't you the smallest bit curious as to why, after so much time, and after so many miles...I've finally come to visit you?"
He pressed the barrel against her baby's skull.
Sarah screamed louder than she already was, the sound tearing at Karen's chest.
"No, please! She's just a baby! My baby! Please...you don't want to hurt a baby...Jonathan...don't do this..."
He laughed again.
"Oh yes, I think it's time for you to pay some attention to me, mother dearest! Now, shall we begin again? Come, come now–how do you greet your long-lost prodigal son?"
The man smiled, his thin lips curling in a cruel mockery of kindness as Sarah wailed, "Mommmaa! Mommma, monster! Mommaaaaa!"
Karen swallowed hard.
"H-h-hello, J-Jonathan. I'm glad t-to see you...s-son..."
He nodded slowly.
"That's better. Much more polite. But I have to wonder...are you telling me the honest truth, mother dear? Why, you don't seem the slightest bit pleased to see me. And after all these years; I'd think you'd be positively thrilled."
Karen shook her head.
"Please. Let me take Sarah. She's just a child, she's scared. She hasn't done anything wrong–"
"I WAS SCARED!"
Spittle flew from his mouth; she could tell he was trying to control himself, trying to stay calm, to maintain his facade of civility...but he was struggling.
"I was a child. And you left me there. With her. Oh, yes; you remember how Granny was, I know you do."
A tear rolled down Karen's cheek as the image of the old crone flashed in her mind.
She could almost feel the sting of her whip against her back; the pain of Granny forcing her head below the surface of the water, holding her down, chanting,
'Cleanse your sins, slut! Cleanse yourself in the Lord's holy waters...!'
Karen shuddered.
"Yes," she whispered. "Yes...I remember. Please...let Sarah go."
"You know what she used to do to me, mother? What you abandoned me to endure? But you should be proud; I've rather made something of myself. Your baby boy is a doctor, did you know? And I've learned so. Much!"
His cold eyes flashed in the dark and she saw a gleam of excitement in his expression as he spoke the last word.
He turned the pistol, aiming it at her.
"Fear is my main area of study, mother. It's fascinating. I can teach you so much. I have so much to show you."
"I don't–I'm sorry, Jonathan...I'm so sorry I left you...but it can be different now–we can be a family again. You, m-m-me, and Sarah–"
"A family? A family?!"
Sarah wailed, flailing her arms in panic, trying desperately to break free.
Jonathan gripped her tightly, squeezing her so hard that she gasped, and Karen's blood froze in her veins.
"No! No...no! We will not have that. Do you think that's what I want? No. No, no no, you're quite wrong. I want to see you afraid. Just as I was afraid, mother dear.”
"Momma!"
Sarah shrieked again as he raised the barrel to her face, pressing it against her forehead.
"Mmmm. I can see it in your eyes; you've never quite felt such terror before, have you? Not even with her. Fascinating! The maternal impulse can be so compelling. And yet…"
Karen's eyes filled with tears. Her baby was in danger, she had to save her, somehow.
"No, please–don't hurt her, I beg you! I'm sorry I left you. I was a child, too. I was scared–I thought you were dead! I didn't know what happened to you! I didn't even know you were a boy, Granny never told me! Please, I never meant to abandon you, I swear–"
Jonathan cut across her.
His voice was ice cold.
"I'm afraid that's not quite good enough. Now, you listen, and you listen well. I've been thinking this through for a good long time...years, in fact. Years and years."
His smile, then, was the most horrifying thing Karen had ever seen.
"I thought about how I could repay your negligence, your utter disregard for my existence. And I finally came to the conclusion that there was but one fitting response. An eye for an eye..."
Karen's heart sank as she heard the hammer of the pistol click.
Her baby's life was in danger, and she was helpless to protect her.
"Tell me, how will you feel when this sweet little one's brains are all a–splatter? Hmmm? When her skull is shattered, and she's lying on the floor, a broken, bleeding little doll? You certainly didn't seem too put out about my fate. Tell me–will you grieve for her, mother? Or will you just move on? Find yourself a new man? Another bastard to spawn, perhaps? The first one was easy enough to replace, eh?"
"Please," Karen moaned, shaking so hard that she was fixing to fly apart.
"She's innocent. She's my baby, Jonathan. My little girl...she never hurt anyone...please...I can make up for what I did. I promise, please. I'll do anything. Just let my baby go..."
"Oh, you'll do anything? Anything? Will you, now? I'm so pleased to hear that. So very, very pleased. How touching! Now, I've heard that there is really no fear quite like a parent's fear for its young. Tell me; do you think you can truly understand what I've suffered now, mother dear? All the fear, all the pain?"
She wanted to throw up, to run, or faint, but she knew that if she took her eyes off him he would shoot, and Sarah...oh, God.
She had to do something, fast.
"Jonathan...listen. If you want me to suffer, you don't have to hurt Sarah...you can hurt me. You have your gun–shoot me, I deserve it for what you've been through. I-I'll let you do anything you want to me, anything at all...but please. Not Sarah. Not my baby...please. Let me have my little girl. She doesn't know anything–she didn't do anything. I'm the one at fault, Jonathan, not her. Me. My fault, please."
For a moment he was silent, and she dared to hope that he might have changed his mind.
Then, he smiled that terrible smile again.
"Now see, why would I do that, hmm? I could hurt you, oh, so much more by hurting...Sarah, was it? Yes, Sarah."
He paused to look at her little girl, struggling in his grasp.
"What a lovely name. Sarah. It sounds almost Biblical. My sweet little sister. Yes, indeed; it seems to me that little Sarah is a much more effective tool for my purposes. Of course, I don't have to shoot her, oh goodness no!"
His voice took on a cheerful, almost playful tone that was somehow even more frightening than his rage.
"Why, there are many, many other things I could do to Sarah, aren't there? So many possibilities to choose from. I could slit her throat, for instance–but that'd be a waste, wouldn't it? So quick. Ah–I could pull out her little fingernails, one by one! Oh, the screams she'll make! Or, I could break her tiny arms and legs–snap! Snap! Snap..."
Karen's knees did give out, then.
"No, no. Oh, God–not my baby–no–"
"God? God? Ha! Is it God up in Heaven, from where no prayer ever summoned him, who will save her? I should think not. He seems quite fond of infanticide; all those first born sons...and what was that lovely verse about dashing them upon the rocks, eh, mother?"
Jonathan laughed again and she shuddered at the sound of it.
"Or is it God who has brought me here, after all these years? Perhaps He is giving you an opportunity to repent for your sins. Repent, mother. Beg forgiveness for what you've done."
She could still see him smiling in the shadows.
"Beg me for mercy, mother. Beg for me to forgive you. Plead with me to let the child live. Show me what a good mother you can be..."
Her baby boy–what had become of the child she'd given life to?
What had happened to him that had made him into this twisted creature?
had to still be in there somewhere; she had to reach the child he'd once been.
Maybe she still had a chance to save him...
Karen looked at him and tried to smile, though she knew she was failing miserably.
"Jonathan," she tried, forcing herself to remain calm.
"Son. My boy, I...I'm so sorry for everything that's happened to you. I didn't know what happened to you, and I've regretted every day since that I left you there, I truly did, son. I thought about you, all the time...but I was sure that Granny killed you. I was sure you'd died–I never thought you'd grown up. Please, son...please don't kill my little girl. She's innocent, she hasn't harmed you. Your sister; she's your baby sister. Please, I love you. I know I failed you, but let me be a good mother. Let me take care of you both. We'll be a real family now, I promise. Just please, let her go, I beg you..."
Her voice trembled as she spoke, tears pouring down Karen's face.
Her baby was still screaming, and she wanted to scream herself, but she forced herself to hold it together as best she could, to plead with her son, hoping that she could convince him, that he would see reason, that he would change his mind, that he would spare his baby sister's life.
That there was something human left in him.
Jonathan stood, silent for a long time, watching her with an unreadable look in his eyes.
She waited, praying silently. Then, finally, he nodded slowly.
"Very well, mother. You've convinced me, after all. I can be merciful. I am not without compassion. I can be kind."
Thank you God, thank you, Lord…
Karen breathed deeply for what felt like the first time in hours as he lowered the pistol from Sarah's forehead, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, making her whimper harder.
"There, little Sarah. See how kind your big brother is? Yes, yes–I'm going to shoot momma first, so she doesn't have to see what your precious little head looks like after it's been blown apart."
What...?
No–!
Karen's eyes widened in shock; her breath caught as she watched Jonathan raise the gun to aim at her chest.
He grinned, showing a row of crooked, yellow teeth.
"Now, mother dear, I hope you'll take some comfort in the fact that your darling baby will be joining you shortly. The one you care about, at any rate."
His finger tightened on the trigger–no, no–she had to stop him, had to stop him somehow–
"JONATHAN!"
He paused.
"Hm?"
"Wait. Please, wait. You don't have to do this–"
"Oh, yes, I know, mother dear."
With a smooth motion, he pulled the trigger.
The sound of the gun firing was deafening in the small room, echoing off the walls and ceiling.
Pain exploded in her chest; she heard herself gasp as the bullet struck home.
Sarah was screaming, screaming...the sound seemed to be coming from somewhere outside her as she felt herself fall backward to the floor.
Karen looked up to see Jonathan leering down at her. He raised the gun again; the last thing she saw as she closed her eyes was her son's ecstatic face as he pressed the barrel to her baby girl's head.
The neighbors had called it in–the shrill screams of the little girl next door had woken half the street. They hadn't seen the gunman, nor did they have any idea of the identity or whereabouts of the victim or the perpetrator; the door had been left open when they arrived.
Karen Keeny lay on the floor in a pool of her own blood; she was dead on arrival.
There were no signs of a break-in, and no witnesses to the crime...just a dead woman, and a crying toddler covered in her mother's blood.
The girl couldn't be calmed, and the officers who arrived to investigate called for child services.
All the poor thing had to say was "Monster, momma. Momma. Monster."