Building 4 “My Sweet Thing”

“I found evidence of it, left over in its bed where I had left it the night before. People have tried to tell me that it was time for it to move on, that there was nothing left for it.

That it had outgrown me.

But how could that ever be?

No child can ever outgrow its mother, and this one was made especially for me.

It was hard in the beginning. I know that. But with time things got easier. Its appetite no longer was something I had to scrounge up on my own. Instead, I'd leave the back door open, and I let it out to grab itself some dinner.

I would then stand there, sometimes for minutes, and sometimes for hours...

And I had to wait for it to come home.

And when it did it would finally be happy, its skin the color of burnt wood finally parting at the mouth in a smile. I have a singular reaction to it, the sort of reaction you would hope a mother would have to their child. I see blood on its body, its blood red eyes staring up at me with such joy.

Such pride.

Honestly, how could I not be proud of them?

But this morning they were not where I left them the night before. It doesn't make sense.

They like the night, and that means that I am up with them. And when they sleep, I sleep. And when they hunt, I wait.

And I am still waiting. Waiting by the back door, which was still closed when I went downstairs. Maybe it let itself out, but maybe not.

The door was locked, and still was when I got to it, but that hardly seemed to stop it before. It was during one of its first late night hunts that I found out. I had fallen asleep. I couldn't help it. I had been up for days by that point, unable to squeeze in rest while also cleaning up the house. It left such a mess you see.

My sweet little thing.

I woke up, and when I did, I saw it staring down at me, crouched upon my chest. It was heavier than it should have been, and there was no smile on its face, even though it was dripping with blood.

The door was still closed and locked.

I didn't lock it while it was out, but it hardly mattered.

I never fell asleep again. Not while it was out.

And here I am, unable to sleep. And I am wondering if that statue I sent to you is the reason for it, that somehow it had grown to know that early on I had my doubts.

That I had to take precautions.

Maybe you destroyed it. I know I never could. Thought I never could.

I am sitting by the window, waiting for my little thing. I can't sleep. I can't close my eyes.

I blink, and when I do, I feel guilt.

Because my baby is out there somewhere.

Maybe I drove it away. Maybe it wasn't my fault.

I don't know. But I can't sleep. I want to desperately sleep. But I can't. Not until my baby comes home. Covered in blood. Familiar to me in a way that is so very strong.

I wonder if other mothers are scared to fall asleep. Are scared of their sweet little things. IF I close my eyes, I will find it again, sitting upon my chest, speaking to me in sounds that I cannot decipher. And I will be so very happy to see it home safe again. But it won't be.

It won't be okay with me falling asleep.

So I won't. And I can't.

No matter how much people tell me I need to.

I simply...can't....

I can't fall asleep.

No matter how much I try to. And so I will sit, and I will wait.

As long as it takes.

For my sweet little thing...

To come home.”

I am tired, so I don't think I will be able to write to you for long. Usually when I get like this I plan on just isolating and shutting myself off until I feel a little more human. But I don't want to do that to you. Far too many people think I don't care because I don't talk to them a lot, or I simply stop messaging them.

I don't want you to ever think that about me.

I feel like I have so little left in the world right now. No matter how far away I felt, I could always count on my ability to return to base. I will sit on my stoop, waiting for the rain or the snow, drinking some tea or a special cocktail with Dad, and I will be right as rain.

But that isn't how things are right now.

Only people I really talk to besides you are my coworkers. Eric is pleasant enough, if a little obtuse and a bit distant. Ever since I told him I didn't have any siblings all those months ago he hasn't said much of anything to me at all.

Naomi, the new girl, has been good company too. She has been going to school for art, and I guess that anthropology courses sometimes suggest their students volunteer at a local museum of some sort. Its funny that we have the same first name, just like you and I do, but she younger than me so I sometimes have trouble not talking to her like I imagine an adult talks to a kid.

I mean, I am an adult...

You know what I mean lol.

I often worry that I come off sometimes like...a little intense. You have told me it isn't an issue, and if it was I am sure you would tell me.

I am just very tired, and that makes me nervous.

I'll message you again soon. Say hi to your family for me!