Redemption by Kaye Draper

Every
time she fought off one attack, there was another.  Tears streamed down her
face. 
    “Please,” she panted. 
“Please don’t do this to me.”  She sobbed when he worked a hand in between
herself and the baby, forcing the child’s little face away from Rebecca’s
chest.  Tears fell on his hand, and his beautiful face looked grim.
    “This isn’t your
baby,” he insisted.  Pulling, wrenching the child from her arms.  
    She gasped in
pain as the warm bundle was torn from her arms, leaving behind a deep chill. 
Pain blossomed in her chest, spread through her being, and she was wracked with
it.  She let out a hoarse scream as Isaac turned and threw her baby. 
The little bundle landed six feet away with a dull thud.  He knelt over her
looking triumphant.  
    Rebecca launched
herself at his smug face, her fingers curled into claws, trying to scratch out
those icy blue eyes.  He caught her easily, wrapping a big hand around each
wrist and holding her against him as she struggled with the pain that was
washing over her- a grief so profound that she thought she would die from it. 
She lost what little strength she had left and sagged weakly in his grip,
shaking with silent sobs, tears flowing like a river, pouring out of her with
the endless hurt.
    “She’s gone,”
she moaned.
    Isaac enfolded
her in his arms and held her against his broad chest.  One big hand stroked her
hair over and over, soothing, gentling her as she turned herself inside out. 
The hands that had been so ruthless just moments before were now holding her
together while she fell apart.
    The pain felt
like it would go on forever, but eventually it began to ebb.  Rebecca had
stopped crying, but Isaac still cradled her, his big, warm hand stroking from
the top of her head and down her back.
    Finally, she
pushed herself away.  Isaac stood and offered her a hand up, and she saw that
he was still bleeding where she had bitten him.  She refused the hand, not
wanting to hurt him any more than she already had, and pushed herself awkwardly
to her feet.
    The thing that
had preyed on her weakness was watching them from the edge of the clearing.  It
stood on its coiled tail, its little hands wrapped around a sapling for
support.  When they turned to look at it, it hissed, revealing its long,
pointed fangs.
    Rebecca squared
her shoulders.  “You are not my child.”  She said loudly.  “She’s gone and
she’s never coming back.”
    The creature
grimaced unpleasantly, then slowly faded, disappearing before her eyes.
    Isaac had come
to stand beside her, and he ruffled her hair with his undamaged hand.  “You
alright?”  His deep voice was hesitant.
    Rebecca nodded,
still staring at the place where the monster had vanished.  “That was…really
important, I think.”
    Isaac was
silent.  She turned to him and took his injured hand in hers.  Her bumps,
bruises, and scratches were gone.  But his injury remained.  The bleeding had
finally stopped, but he had a nice crescent-shaped wound right in the web space
between his thumb and index finger.  She remembered how he had hung on, even
after that and refused to let her have her way.
    “Thank you,” she
said softly.  They had both had so much of their emotional baggage revealed
that she was past feeling embarrassed or ashamed of her behavior.  But he had
fought for her, and that was worth acknowledging.
    Isaac flexed his
fingers and removed his hand from her grasp, replacing it with his uninjured
one.  He twined his fingers in hers and turned back toward the path.  “Just
repaying the favor,” he said lightly.  Then his sharp eyes met hers.  “I need
you.  I can’t do this alone.”
    There was an
unfamiliar sensation in Rebecca’s stomach as she gazed into his eyes.  She
looked away and he gave her hand a light squeeze as they headed back toward the
path.    
    “Have you ever
seen anything so strange,” she said, desperate to distract herself from the
churning