The Pleasantview Chronicles: Not Dead--The Caliente Family

Hey, it's the shortest chapter of the series!

            From outside her window, Nina looked down to where the students of Pleasantview Elementary were coming out of the school.

            Each child had on a unique face—but, all were young and exuberant. A smile crept onto her lips as she remembered her own happy childhood with her sister Dina.

            Then, she saw the child, and the motherly desire she felt overwhelmed her to nearly tears.

            The child was every bit of her father—but there was something enchanting about the girl that Nina knew could only belong to her.

            Nina tried to stop herself from running downstairs and out the door to embrace the child, after nine years of such suffering. And, if she were to do it, she’d ruin everything for the child—eternally scar her child. So, she was bound to sit here in this room, and dream about the day that the child would know who was its mother.

            Hopefully, by that time, he would accept her back—and, allow her to come into society. Or, rather, come back into society.

            Nina watched the child go onto the school bus. In a heartbeat, the bus was speeding off.

            Worry consumed Nina. What if the bus got into a car crash? What if a car didn’t stop for the students to cross the street? What if her child didn’t even like riding the bus?

            Nina never knew she could have these feelings, until she gave up her child to its father. She never knew that these feelings existed until she saw the child for the first time in three years.

            And, now she wished she had never given up that child. If she hadn’t given the child up, then maybe humanity would still reside in her.

            She clutched her fist. Perhaps even if she had a reminder—a photograph or an old blanket—that was that child’s, then she would still be considered human.

            For now, she only realized that she was alive—what she was, she did not know. Was she still human? Was she a machine?

            Regret. How can a human being have this much regret?

            A regret that resided in her and ate every part of her being. This was punishment without the real intention of being the result of the small crime she had committed.

            Now that she thought about it—her past that is—what exactly did she name that child? That daughter of hers?

            She was tempted to call him, many times, just to hear her daughter’s name. To even have a name to think about.

            But, it was a promise. She couldn’t say how she had agreed to that promise, but desperation was a part of it.