A Deal With The Cold Beast

"P-please, I'm begging you, let my baby live! Have mercy on us!"

A desperate cry pierce through the silent night. The forlorn plea sounded like a muffled groan in the deserted street, blending pitifully with the wind. The usually proud moon was nowhere to be seen, as if hiding from the horrendous cruelty underneath it. Too ashamed to even peek over.

The veil of darkness has long descended into the chilly passage that was narrow enough to fit at least five grown-up men like sandwiches. An unassuming candy wrapper following the tide in the air, curiously venture inside the alley. Pursuing the bitter weeps which was from a feminine lip.

"I'm doing you a favor, Crisanta. This is the only way to cleanse your soul from your sins."

The gruff voice of a man ruthlessly voiced his own judgement, cutting whatever hope the woman in front of him has.

A bitter smile drew to the woman's ashen chap lips. Her heart was pounding loudly inside her rib cage. Every drag of air to fill her lungs, hurts. It was as if every time she does, a new bunch of needles will eagerly stab her lungs, turning her breath labored. And the rest of her body doesn't feel any better.

The night that became the wick of her life flash before her eyes, for the ninth time. It was an endless reminder; that once in Crisanta's life she tasted how sweet a freedom could be. And she refuse to forget and repent about it.

A night nobody ever anticipated to happen. A night of mistake, indulgence and heat. How many weeks had passed since that night again? One? Two? Three? Four? She actually lost count.

For the first time in her life, Crisanta feels a strong urge to scream profanities to the man before her.

Everything seems so absurd to her. What does he mean by 'cleanse her soul'?

In this world soul cleansing was only performed by the monks up in the Northern mountain. Her family nor the person before her, was a monk.

The whole area was dark. The moon hides with the stars in the sky, as if mourning with the whimper of her helpless heart. Only a few lamp post illuminates their faces albeit some were shrouded into the sinister darkness.

As if sensing her silent rebellion, the man roared, "That thing inside of your womb is forbidden! It is a dirty sin! Crisanta, allow us to help you set things right!"

The irritating shout thundered around. The man's voice contained endless fury and a hint of reproaching, making the woman's blood run cold.

Another stab of disappointment landed on her wounded heart.

Why must they act so cold blooded?

'I have committed a sin. Yet, funny how I dare to protest against their means. Maybe I am just being selfish, and acting immature, regardless never will my dignity concede with their verdict to salvage our family's dignity. My heart refuse to allow me. What can I do?'

Crisanta's bitter sentiment impede her screaming aching flesh from being recognize.

What she committed was a great shame, dishonorable and frowned upon in their ancestors book. It made no wonder why her first adjudicator was her own kin.

Yet a dangerous inkling kept her heart pounding uncomfortably. Her mind never felt this clear before.

Fate has already carved a rough path for her, unabashed if the person involved was willing or otherwise.

The horrible smells of rotten biodegradable materials mixed with the awful smell of junk wafted through the air. The surrounding is damp and dirty. Not far from where the woman lay, solemnly stood seven men covered in thick pitch black cloak.

Their identities remained hidden except for the man who remain five steps away from them. While a condescending frown was etched upon his brows looking down at the sorry state of the woman before his leather shoes.

Unbeknownst to them the same man had his palms fisted behind his cloak. Hiding the complicated feeling in his resolute eyes; unflinching and beyond determined. It was unknown what he was truly thinking.

Under their collective gaze Crisanta lowered her head, her long lashes perfectly concealed the slowly dying hope within her orbs.

The woman was covered with dirty and rip apparel. While her skin was disguised with cuts and bruises. With a deep cut on her thin right arm, ghastly drops of red liquid flows, trailing her once smooth skin into the damp dirt road as they conceal themselves into the welcoming soil.

The woman's silvery-white hair was a mess, as if portraying her current dire situation.

Her fingers subconsciously made a gentle stroke against her belly. The familiar yet unfamiliar bulge feels strange underneath her touch. However, that same reason weaves her courage to struggle for her life. She needs to fight till the end; she has to.

'Even if it means risking everything, I will never hesitate to fight.'

Glistening salty liquid cascaded down her lashes, like a dam who has its seal broke, it shamelessly falls. Leaving trails of sadness against her pale cheeks.

Indeed, tears are like sweat, both drips down only when you're tired enough.

"I'll do anything, but this, please understand. Let us go. Have mercy on us. It was my fault, I am reckless, but my baby is innocent. He doesn't know anything. P-please forgive us this once and I will atone for my sin every day in this lifetime and even for the next one, " she swears, with her voice trembling, Crisanta bit her lips meeting his gaze, "...Father."

The wind gently caressed her cheeks as if wanting to wiped her tears away, however it does nothing but brought a shiver down her spine.

A flicker of uncertainty flash across the man's eyes before his lips pulled into a sneer. Disappointed with Crisanta's resoluteness in his last shred of wicked compassion, cruel words drips from his tongue.

"I don't have a disgraced of a child. You brought this upon yourself, Crisanta. You have no one to blame but your choice." Her father ruthlessly uttered before turning to the men behind him,

"Crisanta has violated our clans rule, hence this woman in front of me would by no means be part of ours from this second onward. As the elders has decided, this night she has to rightfully perish together with her offspring to atone for her crime!"

Hearing his unconcerned verdict, her arms subconsciously wrap around her stomach. As if by doing so would shield her baby's fate from the men's ruthless clutches. Yet, it was futile.

Crisanta feels lost. Her heart turned cold while her eyes became dull. Her gaze remained still at the man whom she had called 'father' before she even acknowledges the essence of the word.

Her throat dazedly swallowed the grievances that she silently bears, as those cloaked men bound her wrist and ankle up whilst stuffing a rag over her mouth before it was roughly knotted behind her head. Crisanta's frozen tortured body struggles not, even when a burst of numbing pain comes from her arm when a needle pierces her flesh.

For somewhere at the back of her mind, she anticipated this to happen sooner, when she was first hauled out from her room under the shadow of the stars. Waking up lying atop an unfamiliar bed with faint murmurs occasionally drifting her ears, everything starts really wrong. Until the moment where she was 'punished' under their clan's rule.

The warmth she was supposed to feel in his presence was long gone as it was covered with suffocating coldness. Leaving her with nothing but a dull ache sprouting from her chest. Unbearable.

Suddenly, muffled cries escape her restricted mouth as anguish and guilt caved her heart in. She had failed her family and now she failed her baby. What was the purpose of her existence? Why did the one above gift her the beautiful life growing inside her womb for? It shouldn't be only for the world to abandon them right?

"Quit your noisy mouth, else don't blame me if my bullet dug into your stomach to silence you and your bastard, this instance!"

The man hissed before securing the rope in the woman's body while her father turned a blind eye.

Crisanta clenched her trembling fingers.

A sound of a dropped can suddenly cut through the tense atmosphere.

Their heads abruptly snapped into the direction of an empty bottle of soda who rolled into the ground. Crisanta's heartbeat race with a newfound hope.

"Who's there? Show yourself!"

"Dispose the rat if necessary."

A bloodthirsty glint surface in her father's eyes as he gestures his hands into one of the cloaked men; who respectfully nodded in return.

"Come out, we mean no harm."

One of her father's men said calmly. He approached the clump of garbage cans where the noise came from. His right arm dug into his cloak retrieving a short double edge blade; making the hair at the back of her nape stood on their ends.

That's when she realizes how naive her recent thoughts are. Her shoulder shrink in distress. Crisanta tightly shut her eyes as she prayed one more time, this time it wasn't for her nor for the life inside her belly.

'Please, let there be no one in there. I never wish to implicate another soul into my own mess.'

Crisanta sighed in relief when a kitten landed a few steps away from the can. Unaware of the danger around, it chases after the bottle with its short legs. It poked the can around until a cockroach poke its head out, however, the kitten swiftly bit the insect before dashing into the group of garbage again.

Unconvinced the man craned his neck and took a sniff in the air, his nose scrunched in distaste, sensing no more movements and out of the ordinary, he grumbled in a cold voice, "It is a filthy stray cat."

Crisanta's father curtly nodded his head before he turned his back. The middle age man never even bothered to spare his miserable daughter one last gaze.

Like a bunch of disciplined robots, the cloaked men followed after her father as they blended into the darkness, until not a trace of them could her orbs see.

How cold and unfeeling.

It was truly pathetic how she still holds a little bit of hope that everything will turn out to be alright just now. Numbness started crawling in her veins causing another jolt of chill in her chest.

Refusing to succumb to her fate, Crisanta pulled and tugged her hands free from the thin yet sturdy rope. Still it was useless, her skin was rubbed raw but it shows no sign of budging. Her little bout of strength was gone in an instant.