“You’re an activist… I think,” she finally dropped.
Pre-time! I had just served pre-time. What had you monsters taken away, that could not be stolen from my future ?
“I think the word got out about your… sentence happening here.” Her eyes shifted to the doors on the left, and came back to us. “And this is your step-daughter… I think.”
The nurse approached slightly. Did she think I might faint? Could she not see the child in my arms? Could she not understand? No. I would not falter. Not yet. Not ever, so long as this child was under my protection. And when her eye met mine again, and she saw what she saw, the nurse backed away.
“Nothing was done to her,” she assured, “she was only brought in for calibration.”
I saw her gaze descend to the child’s face, her skin pale as snow, her dried tears marring her cheeks and her little hand clenching on my cloth, those proved otherwise.
“Tell me her name” I blurted, my voice strangled by the emotion. “Tell me her name, please” I restated more gently.
The nurse turned her attention to the doors once more.
“Tell me and no one will ever know you let her through,” I insisted.
The nurse took a good look at us, closed her eyes, inspired deeply, and let a hearty “fuck it” out.
A frantic keyboard clicketing later, she came back with her side of the deal fulfilled, and her conscience ever so slightly lighter.
“Helena.”
What a lovely name you have, I thought.
I closed my eyes, rested my cheek against her head and slipped a kiss in her hair as I felt her go away from my arms.
No worries, I’m glad you enjoyed it. I already had this idea of sentence method in mind tbh, but I couldn’t muster the motivation to write a full blown story. Your prompt came in just perfectly for a one-shot, thank you.
I also had the Blade Runner atmosphere in mind while writing it. The second movie has that line: “all the best memories are hers”. I think it raises an interesting question on the link between memories and how we measure our own existence.
“You’re an activist… I think,” she finally dropped.
Pre-time! I had just served pre-time. What had you monsters taken away, that could not be stolen from my future ?
“I think the word got out about your… sentence happening here.” Her eyes shifted to the doors on the left, and came back to us. “And this is your step-daughter… I think.”
The nurse approached slightly. Did she think I might faint? Could she not see the child in my arms? Could she not understand? No. I would not falter. Not yet. Not ever, so long as this child was under my protection. And when her eye met mine again, and she saw what she saw, the nurse backed away.
“Nothing was done to her,” she assured, “she was only brought in for calibration.”
I saw her gaze descend to the child’s face, her skin pale as snow, her dried tears marring her cheeks and her little hand clenching on my cloth, those proved otherwise.
“Tell me her name” I blurted, my voice strangled by the emotion. “Tell me her name, please” I restated more gently.
The nurse turned her attention to the doors once more.
“Tell me and no one will ever know you let her through,” I insisted.
The nurse took a good look at us, closed her eyes, inspired deeply, and let a hearty “fuck it” out.
A frantic keyboard clicketing later, she came back with her side of the deal fulfilled, and her conscience ever so slightly lighter.
“Helena.”
What a lovely name you have, I thought.
I closed my eyes, rested my cheek against her head and slipped a kiss in her hair as I felt her go away from my arms.
If only I could forget how I felt afterward.
No.
That moment belonged to me.
Every moment belonged to me.
Every moment defined me.
Hey sorry it took so long to get to this. Fantastic take on the prompt! Very heartfelt and tear jerking, I quite appreciated reading it.
No worries, I’m glad you enjoyed it. I already had this idea of sentence method in mind tbh, but I couldn’t muster the motivation to write a full blown story. Your prompt came in just perfectly for a one-shot, thank you.
I also had the Blade Runner atmosphere in mind while writing it. The second movie has that line: “all the best memories are hers”. I think it raises an interesting question on the link between memories and how we measure our own existence.