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Onus’s mother cursed from the kitchen, “Now I have to live with two fucking putas?”
She was a cold woman who didn’t care for anyone, including the children I was trying to save, Anita, and her babies.
Still embracing her, Anita whispered to me, “Why does she think we are whores?”
I proudly beamed at her. Of course, she spoke Spanish.
“She is bitter. It’s not true,” I whispered. “Is Piercer nice to you?”
She checked that he was still bringing in boxes and not listening. “No sex, but…” She showed me her palm that had several slices on it.
I instantly knew why.
Having studied his bandaged hands gripping the boxes, it was clear. He thought Anita could give him powers like I gave his overbearing brother.
Luckily, Anita’s wounds would heal and not reoccur for much longer. She had two little girls to deliver.
It was only three days later when Elijah helped Anita and I escape in the middle of the night. At the edge of the property, on a dirt road, he had a car waiting for us. The driver was a man who seemed shocked that he had agreed to drive us to the closest bus station.
Three of us in the backseat, Elijah told him, “Everything is fine, Bob. Just keep driving.”
Could the man see him? No. But Elijah repeated, “Everything is fine. Just drop off the girls.”
He did.
On the sidewalk in front of the station, Elijah told me to get Anita on a bus that was headed for Baltimore. When I reminded him that I had no money, Elijah spoke words to a man in a suit who had been walking by.
The man wasn’t sure why he was now buying us tickets but wished us well after handing them to us.
The next part became foggy, even for me. Elijah was doing all he could to protect the twin’s whereabouts. If I were to get caught and tortured, he didn’t want them found.
Completely respecting that, and suspecting Anita and I were far from being safe, I didn’t ask questions. I allowed my mind to be in a cloud, only aware enough to keep following Elijah’s lead.
My body was present, but my mind was in and out. Anita and I had been on a bus, inside a fancy building, then in an exclusive apartment in Baltimore. It had been prepared for a home birth.
“If we get caught,” Elijah told me, “claim to have been drugged.”
Sitting on a luxurious pink couch that felt like the smoothest material I’d ever felt, I nodded, exclaiming, “I feel drugged.”
For days, we were treated like queens. Housed, fed, clothed, and given immense kindness, but I couldn’t remember the faces of the sweet couple who were adopting the girls. Yet I did remember them asking if they could keep Anita also.
In delirium, I wept pure joy, telling them that it would make me so happy for them to take all three.
Even though no one could see it, Elijah stood behind the couch and kissed my head. We were about to save three lives.
What would happen to me? I wasn’t worried. I had Elijah and a devil who had a crush on me.
As we had each night prior, Anita and I were sleeping in a huge bed when she moaned in discomfort. One of the midwives got up from her rocking chair to check on her. The woman was kind and seemed to be aware of the special circumstances we were in.
I knew it was time when another nurse and doctor arrived along with two incubators and other supplies.
The drugged state seemed to help Anita with the pain as she pushed and cried through her body burning and stretching. I myself felt very present when two infants were placed in arms barely big enough to hold them. We cried and celebrated how healthy the babies were, even after such a rough beginning for their mother.
I had heard of humans claiming moments of ‘heaven on earth’ and now understood what they were referring to. In that bedroom, there was so much love as the new parents sat on the mattress, praising Anita. “Beautiful. They are beautiful, sweet girl. You have done a wonderful job.”
I was next to Anita, my arm over her shoulder as she held her babies.
Crying through smiles, Anita asked the couple, “Can I name them?”
