What Maternal Instincts?

            “What am I to do with a child? I couldn’t possibly bring her back to my old life. There’d be too many questions, especially of the paternity.”

“You’re right,” the witch casually said in my head. One would think that I’d be entirely used to having an eye kept on me, but I still took in a sharp breath when she responded. “But you shouldn’t worry about your old life. You have a long way to go.”

“Well, then what’s next? What is Step Four?”

“Are we still really doing this step thing? I don’t know, raise your kid? Have more? It’s up to you, really.”

“But when can I go back?”

“I’ve already told you. I will only return you to your ‘former glory’ when you’ve earned it. One of your heirs must be as wealthy and attractive as you once were, and then I will let you decide whether or not you want to resurrect yourself into a vapid celebrity again.”

I looked at Aspen and sighed. “So you’re really going to let me live out a life like this?” I waited for a reply and didn’t get one. “Like a freak? A monster?” Still, no response crawled through my head. Sore, I couldn’t stand around any longer, so I went inside and put Aspen down in the crib.

            Aspen developed the nasty habit of crying just when I settled into sleep.

            Sometimes she needed a bottle or a sloppy diaper change, but usually she cried for no reason. It was as if she knew I did not really want her and was revolting against me.

            That thought was just insanity though. Brought on by the several days I was trapped inside the shack with her, nothing to do while on maternity leave. All I begun to look forward to was getting hungry enough to attempt to learn how to make a decent salad.

            I found myself following a raccoon around the yard one night. I watched it knock over my trash can and roll around in filth.

            I would have stalked it longer, but the jerk ran off my property. The fleabag did not warrant paying seventy-five simoleons to a brat for babysitting.

            A package came in the mail one morning. It was addressed to Aspen, and since I had told no one of her except the doctor and nurses at the hospital, I assumed it was from the witch. I opened it and saw a freakish doll.

            I let her have it though, since it was able to keep her quiet for a few hours.