He delivered her in the ER. The midwife didn’t make it on time.
She was born into his hands.
20 years ago. 3 months.
And 2 days.
Just Like Athena from Zeus, you could say that She came from his head.
Even though there was nothing virginal about her birth. But they’re the same;
Him and Her.
As if a piece of him flew into her and a piece of her flew into him.
During that instant when the wet placenta chorion first touched his blue-gloved fingers.
As if both their life energies were infectious.
Like a virus.
Maybe this means She’ll finally get to leave. Maybe She’ll get to do what She wants to do.
For the first time in her whole life.
She’s known for 20 years.
His body would betray him.
He is mortal, after all.
The hepatic virus is what’s killing him.
And because it’s killing him, it’s going to kill her too.
Soon, when it’s over.
It won’t be over for her.
That’s when it will just begin; the cutting.
She’s the goddess of war.
But it’s an internal conflict that She’s fighting.
A struggle with herself.
She needs the blood. But She doesn’t want it.
She watches it slip past her bracelets.
It gives her peace of mind.
Her forearms are war-torn from her battle.
From their battle.
Their battle for His survival.
And it’s about to be over.
When He leaves these cosmos, She’ll be right behind.
Just Like Athena from Zeus.