A Mother's Scream

“Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say,” the guard captain chuckled. “So you won’t have to hear your mother’s scream, little girl.”

I struggled to break free from the two guards that were holding me back but try as I might nothing worked. I wished in that moment I was bigger, older, or richer. I wanted to be anyone other than a poor 10-year-old runaway slave girl with no way to save her mother.

They had my mom in the airlock chamber. I knew they didn’t really care about rules. They wanted a bribe, and my mom could not afford to pay. We were poor refuges escaping from our home world. Escaping from the enslavement of our people at the hands of the Overlords.

“Little girl,” he spat curling his lips with disgusting. “the punishment for stowing away on a military transport is… well.” He presses the airlock button. “Pity those bureaucrats won’t let me kill minors.” I heard the countdown begin.

I looked into the chamber window. My mother’s eyes locked with mine. So much transferred between me and her in that moment. A lifetime of love passed between our souls. She mouthed “Survive. Don’t let them win.”

The airlock door opened and out she went. She was there and then she was gone. There was nothing. She was simply gone. The silence was overwhelming. They killed her.

It was in that moment I heard a scream. The kind of primal scream a dying animal lets out. Was it my mother’s scream? I pulled my gaze from the now empty window to look around the room. The guard captain was staring at me. They were all staring at me. And that was the moment I realized that I was the one screaming.

Good. If mother’s scream was silenced, I would honor her by never allowing mine to be. I screamed louder. I poured my soul into this scream.

Finally, the guard captain snarled “Shut up!” The last memory I have is him hitting my head with the butt of his gun.

I awake from my nightmare with cold sweat dripping down my body. My heart is pounding. I reach for the knife I keep under my pillow. I flip the switch blade open and look out into the darkness anticipating an attack.

My mind is racing. It was a dream. I mean the memory is real. But it happened 15 years ago. That little girl does not exist anymore. Mother died 15 years ago. Those prison guards died during their next mission. The ship was blown up. They all died. I lived through the war. I made it. I survived. Sure, I had to…Elana, don’t go down that path. Don’t think about the past.

Breath, Elana. Breath. I tell myself. You are not that little girl anymore. I grip the knife tighter now. In the darkness, I hear a soft kitten like voice “Mommy, you were screaming again. You woke me.”

I slip the knife back under my pillow quickly. “Mommy, had a bad dream again.”

Emma climbed into bed with me without saying another word. These events were normal to her now. This was the fifth time this month. She no longer feared my outbursts. I wish I could give her what I did not have. I wish she could have a normal childhood. But I know that she will never have that. And tomorrow we will have to move again.

It will be the third time in her 6 years of life. I hold my child saddened by the past and worried by the future. We will always be running and hiding. I will always be a fugitive for the crimes I did during the war. And she will always be hunted for who she is.

She will be hunted because of her race. She will be hunted because of her father. I stroke her hair. We will run again, but this time I have a plan to fight back. I will not allow my daughter to grow up under the same discrimination I have did. I will fight back. And in the end, I pray I win.