It wasn’t the blood or the pain that took Esther Chen by surprise; it was the waiting. Two full weeks after her chirpy doctor frowned at the ultrasound screen, a dozen test results finally confirmed what Esther had already known. The baby was gone.
She sat on her favorite toilet and stuck the little hexagon-shaped pill inside as far up as she could reach. Don’t want it falling back out, the doctor had said. She didn’t cry as she waited for a small eternity, feeling her body clench and release as it banished the bloody mess she had once dreamt of holding in her arms. She looked down only once and looked away before she could notice what else had escaped with it.
Thirteen days later, as Esther reached into the bowl by the front door, her fingertips grazed something too sharp and too warm to be keys. When she withdrew her hand, a drop of blood slid down her thumb.
My apologies. I mistook you for something else.
Esther peered into the bowl, taking in black, ridged scales and a tongue that flicked out as it spoke.
“No, you didn’t.”
It grinned, revealing two fangs, one stained maroon.
You’re still bleeding.
“Of course. You just bit me.” Esther resisted the urge to suck the blood off her finger.
That’s not what I meant.
“Essie? Who are you talking to?” Esther’s husband materialized at the bottom of the staircase.
“I’m late to work.” Esther stood up, snatched her keys from besides the creature, and left the house.
Ten days passed before it appeared again, as Esther waited for her usual at the corner coffee shop. The door chimed, stealing her attention. When she looked back, there it was, sitting on the counter.
Her eyes narrowed as she pressed her lips together. She would not address it in public.
It seemed to hear her question anyway.
I’m here because you need me.
Esther snorted. The customer behind her coughed and took a step back. Esther felt her cheeks color, but she kept her gaze resolutely forward. No longer nestled in the shadows, more of the creature was visible. It glistened in the afternoon sunlight and this time, her mind conjured the word carapace, not scales. An arrowhead tail curled around its angular body as it stared at her from behind eyelids that twitched upward, like a shark’s. It looked too big to have ever fit inside her bowl.
“You’re not real.” She mouthed the words.
Aren’t I?
Esther turned and left, pushing open the door just as the barista pressed a lid over her 16-ounce, triple shot latte.
“Wait! Your drink!”
The golden bells on the door jingled. Esther kept walking.
“Oh XìnXìn, I’m so sorry.”
Esther’s mother wrapped her up in a hug so tight it squeezed out all of her breath.
“Mā, it’s okay.”
“Āiyá, no need to pretend with me. Your youngest brother was stillborn. When he came out with the cord wrapped around his neck, I wanted to die too.”
“It’s not the same at all. You carried him for nine months and he would have been born perfectly healthy if not for an accident. I thought I was ten weeks pregnant, but whatever I was growing was gone before the first ultrasound. I’m just mad I spent all that time being tired and nauseated for nothing.”
Esther’s mother pursed her lips but didn’t argue.
“Stay for dinner. Your Bà has to work late, and I never see you anymore.” She pinched Esther’s thin arm. “I made mushroom-chive dumplings.”
Esther’s mouth watered, but she shook her head. “I promised a friend I’d watch a movie with her tonight.” When her mother’s shoulders slumped, Esther leaned forward to give her a hug. “I can stay a few minutes, though.”
After leaving, Esther drove to a diner no one she knew would ever frequent. She handed the menu to a bored teen in ripped jeans and a graphic T-shirt. Her phone buzzed.
Tell your mom I’ll come over to fix her porch light on Sunday. And bring me some leftovers! Love you.
Esther tucked her phone away, pulling out a paperback. When she looked up, two yellow eyes stared back at her. She sighed.
“What now?”
No longer afraid to be caught talking to someone they can’t see?
Esther rolled her eyes, opened her book, and placed it squarely between them.
Rude.
She started reading. A head peered over the top of the page. Tendrils twitched out, reminding her of a cockroach. Under the dim glow of diner lights, its carapace was tinged red. Not the pleasant color of old bricks, but the brownish red of something gone bad. She wrinkled her nose, shutting the book.
“I don’t want you here. Why won’t you just go?”
Because you need me.
“Try again.”
It stared hard at Esther. She stared hard back. Its claw snapped, the sound startling her. Had it always had a pincer? It seemed bigger now; too large to fit on her plate. A trick of the diner lighting, surely.
Its tendrils twitched again, and it looked away.
Fine. Maybe it’s because I need you.
Esther stared down at the book still in her grip, its pages beginning to warp.
“If I give you what you need, will you leave me alone?”
Yes. But you won’t.
Esther thrust her hand forward, palm up. An offering.
Wrong kind of sustenance.
“Take it anyway.”
The creature launched forward. Esther had just enough time to marvel at seeing its lithe, rust red body move lightning-fast before it opened wide—wider than physically possible, she thought—and clamped sharp teeth down onto her wrist.
The air filled with iron.
“We’re going to sue those bastards!”
“Āiyá, what good is that? She needs rest, not greedy lawyers asking questions!”
“That damned diner should be held responsible. Why was she there anyway?”
“Wǒ bù zhīdào.”
“Her eyelid just twitched! Esther? Are you awake?”
Esther coughed. “No.”
Her mother let out a brittle laugh, voice taking on false cheer. “We were worried.”
“What…” (do you think) “…happened?”
“We were hoping you could tell us.” The last time Esther’s father sounded this way was right after Amà died.
She thought about the creature sinking its teeth into her wrist. Tomato-red liquid pouring out. It had been strange seeing blood that bright. She’d forgotten that blood didn’t start out dark red and globby.
“Can’t…remember.”
Esther’s arm ended in a clump of bandages.
“The doctor says your hand will be okay.” Her mother sounded relieved. Esther knew she was expected to feel the same way.
“You’ll heal up,” her father said. “You haven’t lost anything.”
“I haven’t lost anything,” she agreed.
From the corner of the room, the creature snickered.
As soon as she saw his face, she wished she hadn’t left the hospital.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Essie?”
“Tell you what?”
He closed his eyes and his entire body shuddered. It took Esther a moment to realize he was crying.
“The doctor said you’re still bleeding. No—” he stopped her from instinctively touching her bandaged hand “—I don’t mean this. She said…”
—Esther thought about how she would explain her hand at work tomorrow. She fell down the stairs or slipped in the shower. No, that made it sound like she was trying to cover something up. Maybe if she wore the knit sweater with the extra long sleeves. Her husband liked to tease her, calling it her casual magician-wear. Her husband…he was saying something now. She should be paying attention—
“…let me in. I love you, and I know you’re hurting right now.”
She sat up straight, turning every muscle rigid until he drew back.
“I’m fine. I’m not fragile.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re emotionless.”
Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think, Esther thought, in words that sounded like the creature’s voice.
It was everywhere now. It sat on her desk at work, twitching and peering judgmentally at her computer screen. It perched on her shoulder when she went for a run, claws digging into her windbreaker. Most gallingly, it sat on the toilet seat with her, perched between her legs. The one time she tried closing them, it sat on her knees instead. Later, there were little red bumps where it had touched her skin.
Esther could no longer deny that it was growing.
When Esther lay down and closed her eyes, it leered at her. She tripled her caffeine intake and caught up on her reading.
One night, somewhere between midnight and her 5 am sneak-back-into-bed alarm, Esther slammed her book down on the side table. The creature, seated on the coffee table across from her, cocked its head.
“Don’t you have anything better to do? I’m sick of you. I hate you.”
It bared its fangs, grown out as long as daggers now.
Finally, we’re getting somewhere.
“Fuck you. I hate you I hate you I hate you and I never want to see you again. Did you hear me? I don’t need you and I don’t care if you need me. Too fucking bad. Leave me the fuck alone.”
The creature drew closer, leering. Esther clutched the arms of her chair and scooted back. That’s when she noticed the smear. A fresh red stain marred the white fabric where she had been sitting a moment earlier.
“I’m…bleeding…”
It lunged—for her—and Esther—was—gone.
“Essie, oh my god, you’re awake. I’m so sorry. I should’ve seen. I should’ve…it doesn’t matter. You’re awake!”
Her husband looked awful. Face pink and blotchy, eyebags dark and puffed up.
She pushed up on her elbows, noticing both of her hands were bandaged now.
“No, don’t get up. You need rest, Essie. You’ve…lost a lot of blood.”
She pushed his hand away and sat up. She needed to see. She needed to know.
“What is it? Are you hungry? Do you need ice? Your mom is on her way. She wanted to come sooner, but aside from me, they wouldn’t allow visitors until morning, and anyway…Essie?”
Esther scanned every corner of the room but didn’t relax when she found it empty save for the two of them. As best as she could with her stumpy, bandaged hands, she dug through the sheets. The creature was too big to hide in them anymore, but she checked anyway. She nearly fell off the bed trying to look beneath it.
She could hear him talking to a nurse in the doorway, saying something about Essie not acting like herself. Esther didn’t care. She didn’t need a nurse, or her mom, or him. She only needed one thing.
Esther sighed in relief and laid back down onto her rumpled sheets.
It was gone. It was finally gone.
After she was discharged, they put her on suicide watch. Someone was always at the house with her. She didn’t know if it would be better or worse to explain that she hadn’t done it. She decided to say nothing at all.
They brought in a counselor. She stared wordlessly at them for sixty minutes. They promised to return at the same time next week.
Her husband was a mess. She ignored his pleas to talk to him. Eventually, he gave up and sat quietly in the room with her, his worry and frustration thickening the air between them.
Friends visited in groups, chatting with each other when it became uncomfortably clear that she wasn’t going to respond. As they left, she overheard her husband quietly apologizing for her behavior.
She ate and drank and slept.
And she bled.
“Esther.”
Her mother’s voice sounded clear and stern. This wasn’t the voice Mā used with her now; it was the voice she had used on Esther as a child. Esther’s body responded to the command, sitting up straight. She opened her eyes.
Mā looked at her with a gaze so piercing that she immediately turned away, but Mā fixed her chin, forcing Esther to look at her.
“I’m still your mother and you will tīng huà.”
Esther nodded.
“I…should have talked to you about how it felt…” Mā’s eyes squeezed shut. To Esther’s horror, a teardrop spilled down her mother’s face. “…to lose your brother.”
No. Esther’s eyes begged Mā to stop talking, but no words escaped her lips.
Mā swallowed, clearing her throat. “I blamed myself. A piece of me wrapped around his little throat and strangled out the life I gave him.” She held up her hand as if to ward off Esther’s protestations. “I know what you say. It was an accident. But it didn’t matter.”
Esther’s throat felt full, like something had expanded inside her, filling up all the space and leaving no room for air. She squeezed her fists tight, feeling the seams of her stitches pull taut.
It’s not the same, Esther wanted desperately to say, but she couldn’t breathe.
Tears streamed down Mā’s cheeks now.
“I know what you tell yourself.” Mā shook her head. “But heartbreak does not care if it’s ten or forty weeks. Guilt does not need to make sense.”
Mā reached into her purse and pulled something out, pressing it into Esther’s hands. Esther’s wrists and palms were still bandaged, but she felt the soft yarn on her fingertips. She looked down at a pair of tiny mittens.
“You…knit?”
Surprise cleared Esther’s airway long enough to let the words escape. They sounded strange, her voice distorted from disuse.
“The last thing I knit. Before.”
Esther’s heart clenched at the barely masked pain in Mā’s voice.
“You brought me back, XìnXìn.”
Esther looked up into her mother’s eyes.
“I didn’t want to live after…after your brother died. I thought about every mistake I had made. Three times I changed the cat’s litter before learning I was pregnant. Huǒguō family dinner when I mixed raw egg into my satay sauce, not wanting to break tradition. The weekend I painted his room and breathed in fumes.”
“But…those…aren’t related.”
Her mother gave her a sad smile.
“For months, nothing made me happy. You were five and your Bà was taking you to school. One day, you come home with this.”
She pulled something crinkly from her bag, setting it atop the mittens. Esther glanced down at the paper.
sumwon took my mama and bruther. mama iznt mama anymor. i miss hur.
Esther’s mother took the paper and mittens from her hands and Esther almost snatched them back.
“It is not your fault,” Mā whispered, leaning in to hug Esther.
You’re wrong.
“It is not your fault.” Mā hugged her tighter.
Esther bit her lip.
“Whatever mistake you blame yourself for, let it go. It is not your fault.”
After Mā left, Esther didn’t go back to sleep. She stared at the mittens, thinking about how small a baby’s hands must be to fit inside them. She didn’t know if her baby had started to form fingers before its life was swept away. She stared at the mittens and the paper until she couldn’t stand it anymore.
Then she picked up the piece of paper that had saved her mother, and she tore it in half.
She tore it again, and again, and again. Until each piece was smaller than her dead brother’s fingertips.
She pulled apart the mittens, unravelling them inch by inch.
Esther sat amidst the shredded paper and two sad strings of yarn and wiped her still-dry eyes. When she opened them again, she was not surprised to find it sitting at the foot of her bed.
It was as big as a housecat now.
Esther took a deep breath, swallowing the pain, and stared into the creature’s eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
It sneered at her.
Liar.
Esther inched closer. The creature held its ground.
“I shouldn’t have driven you away.”
You drive everyone away. You deserve to be alone.
“Maybe.”
It hissed at her, more enraged than ever.
They’ve tried so hard to help. All you do is hurt them in return.
Part of Esther wanted to shut down, to agree with it, to curl up in a ball and wait to die. She shoved down the urge and inched closer to the creature.
You don’t deserve to get better. The night before your appointment, you wished for this. You wanted the test to be a false positive. You wanted the doctor to tell you it had all been a mistake.
Esther’s entire body shuddered, and she knew if she gave in now, she would curl up into a ball and never, ever return.
“I was scared.” Her voice sounded small.
You don’t deserve to feel sad. Not when you brought this upon yourself.
Esther had only enough energy left for one motion. One last chance. She didn’t waste it on words. She lunged.
Too-many-legs slapped against her face frantically, trying to shove her away. A tendril bored into her ear and the creature hissed a reptilian sound that raised every primal instinct in her. But Esther kept her arms wrapped around it as tears began forming in her eyes.
You don’t deserve me!
Esther wrapped her legs around the creature, squeezing tight.
“I love you,” she said as tears slid down her face, and the creature shrank, its flails growing weaker.
“I love you,” she said, face damp and dripping, and it grew smaller still, tendrils retracting, color growing darker, losing its rust red sheen.
“I love you,” she said, voice hoarse as she choked on her sobs, and its carapace morphed back into scales, iridescent and fine. It looked at her with wide, fearful eyes.
“I forgive you,” Esther whispered, and she plucked it up with her fingertips, placing it in her palm.
Tenderly, carefully, she closed her fingers over the creature as it sighed in relief. When she opened her palm again, it was gone.
And Esther knew that at last, the bleeding had stopped.
| Kelsea Yu is the Shirley Jackson Award-nominated author of Bound Feet, It’s Only a Game, and Demon Song. She has over a dozen short stories and essays published in various magazines and anthologies including Clarkesworld, Apex, and PseudoPod. Find her on Instagram or Twitter as @anovelescape or visit her website kelseayu.com. |  |