Ruthless and Mine

The Unforgiven Day

Redna's POV

Today is supposed to be a day of celebration. My first wedding anniversary.

I lay on the hospital bed, covered in white overalls. The soft humming of diagnostic machines and the gentle clatter of shoes on the ground, like the place is haunted by the reaper himself, replays the grief and pain in my heart as I fight to hold back tears that keep threatening to fall out suddenly.

There's a tightness in my throat, like I’m being choked by sorrow itself. I struggle to swallow, suddenly my throat feels tight, strung.

My right hand shakily makes for the picture on the bed side table. A mini photo I took three years ago with her. It was a hug with the last bright smile I had and there was 18 year old me in it. There was also a man in the picture, a man I did not know. Tall, muscular with dark dreadlocks and a faint smile.

All my childhood, I’d never known a dad. I knew a mom later, but it was not the way a kid would describe one.

All I knew was that when I was 18 years old, she suddenly showed up at the doorstep of my foster mom and snatched me out of the hands of the only loving false parents I knew since I was old enough to see.

I had once asked her why she left me at a doorstep. Why she chose to give me away instead of to stay with me like most mothers would. It was a wound I doubted would heal and had, had my head slammed against a wall for believing I had one, in school.

She kept promising to tell me. Now, she can't tell me again.

The door opens and they bring it in. Wrapped as heavy as it was precious. A child, little, delicate, red, no bigger than a carrot.

I know the nurse who brings her to me. She's been tending to me since I first arrived here. She smiles at me as she hands me the baby. I quietly carry the child. Careful not to tear off the syringes attached to my arms.

“She came yesterday. Sorry…we couldn't bring her early enough”

Then, she pauses and watches as the child clings to my clothes when I lift him to my chest.

“What of my mother?”

She sighs and looks around.

I get a mixed feeling in my chest, desperate, a smile on my face but there's bitterness scraping my heart.

“She couldn't survive it. Lots of… complications”

My eyebrows furrow then relax. There's a sting but it doesn't last long enough before it fades. A ‘bad’ joy washes over my chest. It's not comfort, it's not joy, it's…relief.

Yes twenty one with a baby, that's not mine, to tend to for the rest of my life and a mother I should mourn yet somehow couldn't.

What about the man who stole my heart? Who was supposed to be by my side right now, helping me recover by just being present at least?

Well, it had only been a day or two before marriage when I found him deep and soaked in another woman's mouth.

Not any other woman, my own f*cking mom! The strange woman that snatched me away and claimed me, was claiming my husband too!

She was right after all, he really was too good for me. Which would be a thing. She was only just a teenager when she had me and is still very young and active right now. The fool in question hadn't even thought about it, she was my mother for freaking sake! He hadn't even cared about how I felt about it, well now that she's gone, I hope he is too with her.

He'll be out of my life for good! I don't need him or another mafian fool like him to protect me, he’s never done anything but lie about how much he loves me. He should’ve married my mom, he might as well, her corpse now.

Cyi Dubonne was the Don of a Mafia Organization called the “Brotherhood of 7”. He could get whatever he wanted with force, charm or wealth. I should've trusted my instincts.

Danger would always be danger no matter how thrilling or genuine it seemed. Yet, I stayed. I wanted him for everything and look where it landed me. Not to mention that he’s also the reason, I’ll be losing my mom now.

I’d always felt it somewhere in my guts, but it was too faint, too insignificant for me to give attention to. His love always seemed covered it all and I ignored my own self to please him.

I lean my head down and the tears finally find their way out and down my cheeks. I lean over tiredly and watch as they drop on the baby's tiny forehead. He jerks a little, a few fingers curling from the startle. I clean it off as my mind returned to the hospital.

“How are you doing, Miss Redna?”

The nurse asks as she takes the baby from me.

She sees me crying but ignores me which hurts a little but I also feel happy that I don't have to tell my sad life’s story because of sympathy.

I quickly flash back to what the doctor said. I’d just been diagnosed with blood cancer. Just today, I’d experienced my feet turn white twice and my tongue was still a shade of purple but I didn't feel too bad on the inside. I’d been tired to my bones in the last three days and unable to even lift myself up from bed easily.

One part came back to my head. His face just as he announced.

“We found it on time. A few medications and processes, that’s all you need. You’ll be fine”

But one thing lingered in my mind. It had no cure. I heard people say they became free. But as the days went by, at least for the past three weeks, I’ve done nothing but sob while my case got worse.

“Miss Redna?”

The nurse calls me out of my deep thoughts.

“How are you doing?”

She takes a sit beside me with the baby in her arms.

“You have to be here for your little brother” she smiles, nudging her head towards the baby.

I lift my eyes to her and flicker them back to the machine I’d been staring at for almost three hours now, tired, overwhelmed.

Dubon had come once to the hospital but it was only to see mom. Of course! His mind would be there.

She was carrying his child, instead of me, but it was out of sheer passion not wedlock. I could see it in her eyes every time she looked at Dubonne.

Mama had warned me about something. Mama was my foster mother. She said passion could destroy a woman, but she never explained it well enough. The simplest I knew was that it was a forbidden love anyways that could make a woman go crazy for the wrong man.

Another nurse walks in.

“Miss Redna, someone wants to see you”

I nod, unable to ask who it is from a quick shortness of breath.

The nurse by my left drops the baby in a little cot by my side and leaves.

I put my pinkie finger in his little folded hands as his tiny fingers curl around them.

“I'm here my precious little one. It's not your fault, I'll take care of you, I promise”

I'm absent minded for some two second as a strange pain strikes my lower left limb. I wince.

As I look to my right, I wonder who it was, here to see me. I hadn't no one brothers and sisters as the only child of my mom.

My aunties, two actually had died last year in a plane crash. The last man standing was very aged and not so functional about 89 years old. She barely even remembered my name, not with her Alzheimer's.

I look at the door as I hear and notice the handle twitch.

Another nurse walks in.

“Do you want to see your mother one last time before we close her up?” She asks.

I itch to say “no!” Why would I want to see a woman who abandoned me and stole my first and only love away too?”

Yet somehow, I find my mouth say ”yes” against my own will

I guess the one thing stronger than will is emotion.

She smiles and walks to my bedside. She helps me get down the bed.

I feel cold and weakness as my feet set on the floor.

She helps me by the arm to walk towards the door. I barely seem to notice what is going on around me.

We walk for a while except she's no longer holding because I try to stand without help for a little while.

We get to the room where she stays and I see a bunch of people in there. From behind, I think it's him but I’m not quite sure. Anger, hate and coldness flush my spine so suddenly, I flinch a bit.

“Are you okay, Miss Redna”

I nod.

“Your mom's ward is here” she says and walks towards a door. I follow her.

The glasses are transparent, so I can see through.

Why were there a crowd of people around her death bed on dark suites and jackets? Had Dubonne brought his brotherhood to pay her a last visit? I counted the men silently, they were about 10. He hardly cared about me anyways so why would I care?

I walk in and take a look around.

Then I feel a sudden tight grip on my hand. I turn sharply, it's that strange man, the one (my mind does a quick flip), He looks like the guy in the picture.

“Let me go! Who the f*ck are you?” I protest but he smiles softly and I hate him even more. What was he even doing here? He only belonged in that stupid picture.

He leaves my hand, almost suddenly.

I feel a sense of disgust twist in me as I look at his face, same man, same dreadlocks, longer beards.

“Redna! They told me you were here”

I watch as his eyes soften as he looks at me.

The other men remain silent, heads bowed. What was this some sort of Mafian or what now, cult homage? Why were the dressed uniformly and about the same size?

I can see streaks of tears on his cheeks. But I hardly care. All men were silly.

I look forward and there she is mom, she’d turn white and it was impossible to believe she was the same woman, once radiant and full of life.

I sit at the foot of her bed when suddenly the man about six of them like a board, all raise their head in unison. I'm startled by how matched they are and I start to hate myself for even coming here in the first place.

“Everyone! It's her! It's my girl! It's my baby!”

Screams the man who gripped my hand.