Paradise Lost

Trigger Warning: Throughout this tale, there will be subtle mentions relating to mental health, body image, sexuality, physical violence, and religious tone.

Shakey blistered-sunburned fingers holding a pair of binoculars scan the sparse landscape seeking anything to ease the ache of solitude and impending doom. The sun's rays twinkled off the beads of sweat racing each other as they fell from brow to chin. A parched tongue gently soothes the sting of salted droplets on red cracked lips. Weeks had passed since any adequate shelter or provisions could be found. The sun dominated the days for months now. About two and a half miles ahead is a patch of thick grass beneath the canopy of a young dogwood tree. A trickle of blood mapped through the cracks as a smile of relief formed. Relief flooded their overworked heart. Rerouted, a single briny stream kissed the newly opened wound. The binoculars fell sharply on the backpacker's dehydrated chest. Angry inflamed fingers trembled as they hovered over the pronounced pain. Just as quickly, the dread piggybacking their shoulders returned. Hope clearly within reach was reduced to a dot waving softly in the distance. Spitting out the last of their over-masticated elm tree bark, a pair of swollen bloody-wrapped feet began to move.

She wanted children. An entire football team preferably. Her husband could have cared less as long as she was happy. The heartache of losing her first baby fourteen months ago to gestational diabetes left her feeling worthless.

"I want grandbabies.", her mother whispered to her. She pulled the white lace veil down over my face, "Lots of babies. You bring them to visit their oma in Germany."

Those were the last words her mother spoke to her on her wedding day. No matter what, she intended to keep that promise to her mother. Everyone was thrilled at the news. Her husband most of all. She could still smell the fresh paint. Creating a mini paradise for her growing gift. He teased her about her baby fat weight. She didn't know anything was wrong. They were happy. How did she lose control of the car? He was so angry at the doctor. Angry, at her for the choice that needed to be made.

Heavy footsteps, stumbling over stones and debris, trek earnestly toward the promised mini oasis. A large desert-camouflaged backpack dropped rattling the tin eatery set inside triggering a hollow rumbling in their stomach. Hunger and fatigue were overwhelming the once hefty traveler. It was more of a calling than a need steering them on this pilgrimage. Secretly, they did not want to be the first on the menu if things went bad, so the choice to leave was strictly for self-preservation.

The love between them turned cold. Wasn't her life worth something? Without her, there would be no baby. Playful teasing was quickly replaced with insults of murder. Leading her to tears sharing their story with strangers. Tenderness returned with the news of their second pregnancy. A law was placed a month prior. All life-saving measures for distressed mothers-to-be were banned. How he gloated. How she cried.

They could have stayed with those new friends, as they called themselves, in El Paso. Angry men rounding up women like cattle in attempts to maintain power over women is the new world reality. Women are sexual commodities and nothing more, regardless of age. Fighting back could get you a full day of round-the-clock assault. Conditioned to obey. One after another their desires faded, morphing into diseased sports of depravity. What was once her paradise gave way to the path of hell. Her husband laid the first brick by believing in this change. The second, opening the door to their home. She was off limits, even to her own husband. Her job was to feed all and tend to the broken. She didn't care about the insensitive jokes made at her expense. She was expecting and this made her untouchable.

The ground approached fast as they tripped over a pile of rocks. "Oh God, no!", they cried before their head smacked into a large stone. Rising to their knees, the traveler felt the watery blood trickle past their temple. "Get up. Everything hurts...", they groaned. "...but you have got to move!"

She couldn't bear the sight of the horrors these women endured. Some begged with their eyes. Others were trapped in their minds. A long-haired brunette grabbed her wrist.

"There is a way out of here.", she casually whispered. "You can get us out of here."

"How? It isn't as if I can ask them to set you free.", she asked.

"Make a special meal for the boys. They deserve it don't you think?" The matter-of-fact tone helped her key in on the message. "There's a place out near Nevada."

Confused she asked the woman, "Where in Nevada? How am I supposed to get me or anyone else there? I'm pregnant and I have to have my insulin."

"This is all in your hands. Have faith.", she responded. The woman turned toward the wall and fell silent.

Another evening of microaggressive jokes and harsh comments. A total of nine women passed. That night a few of the men loaded the lifeless bodies and shovels into a gravel truck and left. A handful of men stayed behind. She overheard the others would be gone until the next afternoon. She made the punch bowl and announced she was preparing trashcan punch. The men gave praise. The women cried. The Everclear and vodka could account for any suspicious chemical odors. She made her husband a cocktail after putting in her contacts. Then she waited.

The distance between the patch of grass and the traveler never closed. Cramps were beginning to overtake their body.

She heard her husband's drinking glass shatter on the bathroom floor. The keys to the locks were around his neck. She passed the men choking, seizing, and vomiting in the dining room. She tried to share the message with the women and girls. Most just ran. Some didn't move. But the long-haired brunette was gone. She packed food, a survival pack of bark, cones, and pine needles into a backpack. Grabbing her bottle of homemade animal deterrent she set out on her journey.

Her eyes fluttered, waking to the coolness of thick green grass against her face. She clutched at the blades and nuzzled her face deeper into the earth spilling fresh tears. She did not know how she made it, but she did. She was no longer tired. Her tummy felt full. She sat up and looked at her feet. They were healthy.

"You made it.", someone whispered.

She didn't turn around. She stared into the distance and replied, "I knew I would see you again." A tear streams down her cheek. "That's me out there isn't it?"

"Yes.", the woman answered.

"I failed, didn't I?", she asked.

"Take my hand and let's go home.", she whispered.

She rose and took the warmth of her hand in mine. I turned and walked into paradise. Her children ran towards her. She looked at the long-haired brunette.

"Who are you?", she asked

She whispered, "Lillith. Protector of the Garden."