Newborn

Before I am pulled from the womb, I am aware.

I am aware of this awareness, it is like the blanket they wrap around me to keep me warm. I am this but I am also that. They muse out loud about why I don’t cry. It is normal for me to cry, but I do not. I watch instead, and I know what things are. There is a feeling of satisfaction which is more urgent than other needs, like to shit or suck or draw breath. I do not forget to breathe.

They put me on the mother’s stomach and I am supposed to imprint on her and although part of me wants to, the other part will not let this happen. The other part hates the mother but I don’t hate anything yet. I can’t hate, I can only want.

I want the mother.

I am aware of the world but unable to affect it. The other part goes to sleep along with its awareness and I am allowed to be a baby for a while.

I cry for the mother.

Infant

Today a dog tries to rip out my throat.

The father is distressed, he tries to protect me but he is slow and stupid. The dog’s bite is exhilarating and I laugh at the blood flowing from my head but no one can hear me. The dog begins to choke, steam spews from its jaws and the father pulls it away from me.

I am not finished!

I want to hold the dog’s snout and watch it die. I want to shove my chubby tiny fist into its anus and rip. I can’t do anything, my body is too small.

The dog dies of my blood anyway and my fun ends. The father examines me fitfully but finds no wound. I can hear his mind sliding an explanation into place. The blood is the dogs. But why is it that colour? Never mind, the baby is okay. What is that smell?

The father picks me up and I smile for him. See? I am unharmed. The father wonders why the dog’s blood smells like sulfur while he kisses my cheeks. I laugh so he can hear this time and he feels good again.

He takes me home and does not tell the mother what has happened. I don’t understand. I want her to pick me up and kiss me like he did. The mother thinks the stains on my clothes and blanket are spilled ketchup. She chastises the father for his carelessness and he goes away. The father has shamed the mother.

The mother begins to cry so I cry. I do not know why I do this but she finally picks me up and I stop. When I am in my crib and they think I am asleep, they talk about their argument in hushed voices. I hear it all. The father is angry that the mother has judged him but she is resolute.

I want the father to be quiet.

Toddler

I step on the bird’s neck and watch its head pop off.

The flesh is invisible under the feathers so I bend down and try to pull them out. When I can’t, I cry and the father comes. He yells and pulls me away. He looks at me with fear and confusion. I laugh and point at the bird. I say happy nonsense. He shudders.

The park is getting dark. I want to stay. I can hear the insects and rats and birds all around. There are bats under the roof of a bathroom. I want them to fly free. I want to jump and catch them and eat their wings. I am silent as the father collects belongings and comes to me for the stroller. I am listening to the park and the oncoming night. He pauses to look on me and I know he suspects I am not a normal baby.

He sometimes talks to the mother about it. I have often wanted for him to swallow his tongue and die on her lap. I have tried to focus my will but there are too many things. There are animals eating animals, men fucking women, and children hurting their pets. I can hear the cries of the neighbor’s son as his father visits him in the night.

Sometimes I watch the television when the father is catching up on news of wars and storms and rapes. I stand and watch. When it is colorful and loud and meant for me to watch, I ignore it and try to make the father fall on a kitchen knife.

The mother has left for a time. The father worries she will not come back and leave him with it. I want the mother to come back as much as the father does. This does not stop me from crawling on him in their bed and putting a soft yellow ball in his mouth and then deeper into his throat. The mother is not here to stop me.

When the father begins to choke, his jaws slam shut on my arm with all their strength and my blood fills his throat. I laugh and pull my hand back but it is gone. There is only blood and bone. I smear it on his face. His eyes open and stare at my face but he can’t move to hurt me back. He thinks about hurting me back and he thinks why are its eyes glowing red? Have to fight. Knew all along there was something. What?

I am naked as he dies. I make pee and shit on his face and pull out his hair.

When the mother comes back I am on the floor and I am crying. She looks at the blood on my arm but finds nothing wrong. The arm in the father’s cold mouth is a mystery to the police and they do not tell her. She would be too afraid and upset and she is too nice and pretty a lady to do that to her. Where is the rest of the baby he was eating? Was he about to eat his own kid?

There are too many monsters in the world.

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