Free The Eye Unseen by Cynthia Tottleben Page A

what you’re saying and I’m just going to pretend that you’re talking about our conversation. Which is one we will never have again.” Mom used her firmest voice, spoken through tightly clenched teeth.
    “The bitch is laughing at us. Can’t you hear her? How many times has She crawled from our bellies? Every one of us carries the guilt. Not only did we birth her, but we fed the devil and taught her how to walk! All of us!” Aunt Evelyn beat her fist against her heart, the color draining from her face.
    “Calm down, sister. You’re reading too much into this.”
    “No. Joan’s mother knows. Don’t you, Gladys? I can see it in your eyes. You believe.”
    “I…” Mom started.
    “She lives in our every cell. Trust me, she’s just waiting for the right time and vehicle to emerge. Joan will bear her. But who will destroy her? Do you have the strength?”
    I cowered, afraid of her questions.
    “Of course you don’t. My grandmother’s cousin, Ruby, left her flopping in the yard like a chicken after she cut her head off. The beast was only four at the time. That morning, she had set fire to her brother in the kitchen. As the flames rolled off him, Ruby saw the color rise in her daughter’s eye and knew then what she had borne. Ruby marched the spawn to the yard and took the ax to the child’s neck. Of course her husband shot her straight through the heart before she ever laid the weapon down.” Aunt Evelyn slowed her words a bit. “The men in our family have never understood.”
    “I have the strength.” My mother’s voice shocked me. She did believe.
    “I know you do, Gladys. But your courage isn’t enough for this one. She’ll obliterate you before you ever lay eyes on her.” A coughing fit racked Evelyn’s chest.
    “You need to deal with the child you have now. It is the only way. She is destined.” She nodded my direction.
    “No. If the child is hers I will take care of it. I will not harm Joan because you have bad feelings about her.”
    “Yes! You will! You must!” My great-aunt screamed as her hands flew to her chest, clutching her breast.
    For a split second Evelyn held my gaze, surprise touching her face. Her upper lip curled as though it had a faint wisp of laughter stuck underneath it. Even as her eyes rolled back in her head, my great-aunt nodded at me in acknowledgement. Pinning the future to my collar with her words. Understanding that no matter what, you would come.
    Her chin slammed against the table as she collapsed. I heard her jaws snap at the collision, the spray of blood bursting from her nose, decorating us all as her body plummeted to the floor.
    As Evelyn drew her last breath, broken teeth fell from her mouth and skittered across the linoleum, collecting under the kitchen table. I could hear laughter that I first thought was a man’s until I felt it pass through my lips and pool around my great-aunt while she convulsed on the floor. 
    Her fall was like an enormous tower crumbling to the ground during an earthquake. In my child’s eye, she was the dragon slain by someone small.
    Like a little girl. That I had yet to know. One that could kill someone as powerful as Evelyn with just the promise of her birth.
    Not to mention all the other people I’d loved along the way.
    After my mother died I could barely function. But you know that. You were with me then, clinging to life by devouring every drop of hope I had left. In my madness I forgot my legacy, the shadow that had always lurched on the edges of my existence.
    But I couldn’t hide from it forever.
    You were six when I first remembered. The heat clung to us like Saran Wrap that miserable summer’s day. We were at the park. I kept the bottles of water on the bench, and you came to me, sheltering your eyes from the glaring sun. Casting a shadow over your face. Letting your secret slip for a split second.
    “Mom, I’m thirsty,” you said, holding your hands out for some water.
     I opened the spout on your plastic