The Road to Absolution 

The rich scent of baking chocolate wafted through the air of the apartment,  delightfully mixing with the gentle, though brisk, breeze from the open window. Sofia’s  apartment didn’t have a proper smoke alarm—she was convinced the super would never  get to fixing it—and she didn’t need yet another batch of burnt brownies and a call to the  fire department. They’d likely think she was aiming for an insurance claim, rather than a  handful of failed attempts to bake for the neighbors. 

She had taken to cleaning while the timer ticked down on the oven, tossing trash  away, putting flour back above the fridge, returning the carton of eggs to the fridge door,  and, her favorite task of all, scraping the leftover batter off the mixing bowl with a spoon  to indulge on. She bit the batter off the back of the spoon, filling the now-empty bowl with water to let soak, as Cain began to wail down the hall. 

“Mama’s coming, sweet boy,” she called out, switching the water off and tossing  the spoon into the bowl. Her hands wiped on her apron as she headed out of the kitchen  and into the room of the little boy wailing, on his back, in his crib. 

She switched on the lamp next to the door, and she saw his tufts of curly black  hair first. He turned to the light, and she laughed that gentle oh, sweetheart laugh  mothers gave their children when they were being cute, if not dramatic. He heaved  another wail in response, nose dripping snot and face all red. 

“Oh, my goodness.” She reached down into his crib, brushing a finger against his  cheek. “Did you smell the brownies? Think you’re missing out?” 

Her answer was a loud get me out! shriek. 

Of course, as much as she would love to lift him right away, getting him out of the  crib was always a chore. He was nine months now, so she’d have hoped he’d have caught on that it was painful to jostle him with his wings wrapped so secure around him. But he was a baby, so she supposed she couldn’t reasonably expect anything beyond innate  instincts of eating and self-preservation. 

Cain slept cocooned in his wings; she found him like that every morning and after  every nap. Black as night, they matched his hair, and the feathers at the ends looked as though someone dipped them in gold. Currently, they covered everything but his face, from his shoulders down to his toes, and as adorable as it was, she rather hoped he’d  grow into them soon. Walking with such heavy things behind him would be a nightmare. 

“You gotta let them up, baby. Mama can’t pick you up like this.” The last time she  tried, when he was this upset, he screamed until she realized she’d pulled a few feathers in all his squirming. So, she waited. 

They spent most of their time inside, as Sofia worked as a telehealth nurse during  the day, and generally only ventured out at nighttime. Of course, part of that was to keep  Cain safe. She’d heard of plenty of inhuman children being torn from their families over  the years, and she refused to let her family be a victim of that fate, too. Patience on days  like this, when Cain cried so loud and long she was convinced it would never stop, was easy with that in mind. Once she and her husband—who worked long hours and was  rarely home since he ended his paternity leave early, when Cain was barely two months  old—saved up enough, they planned to move to the middle of nowhere. Buy a cottage,  maybe, that had plenty of land for Cain to safely roam and fly. Minimize the inevitable  whirling chaos of a home with a toddler flying about. 

This time, fortunately, it didn’t take long before Cain’s wings fell away and she  could reach in to lift him. Little hands grabbed at her nose while he tried to gnaw on her chin, and she laughed on the way back to the kitchen where a bottle sat, warming in a  mug of hot water. 

“I know, I know,” she soothed, grabbing the bottle with a kiss to his forehead. Her  nose pressed into his hair. It was soft, curly, and— 

A firm flap of his wings and loud, angry babbles had her standing up straight  again, and she rolled her eyes. “C’mon, baby.” Carrying him to the bassinet she kept in  the living room, she laid him on his back and situated the bottle in his mouth. Her other  hand settled on his chest, and she stayed there until he grabbed the bottle himself. “There we go.” 

Sofia had always found fascination in watching her son; the little coos while he  ate, or the way he scrunched up his nose, or how he smacked the bottle and kicked his  feet all had the uncertainties that came with being his mother melting away. She  regularly spent hours staring at him, often while he slept all bundled up in his wings,  despite the array of blankets she had for him, and she likely would’ve done just that while he ate if she hadn’t heard the lock click open on the front door. 

Sofia turned, and her eyes lit up. That would be Nikolai, home in time for dinner.  She couldn’t remember the last time he made it home before Cain went to bed, or when  he was up late enough in the morning to share breakfast. 

“In here!” called Sofia. 

Shuffling and a loud thunk followed. 

Nikolai appeared in the doorway, shoulder to the wall, and where she expected at  least a forced smile was a thin line. His eyes barely left the ground, and he didn’t walk  over for the usual cheek kiss in greeting before he’d shuffle off to the kitchen for  whatever dinner she’d cooked up.

Sofia’s brow furrowed. “Bad day?” 

He shook his head. “No, no, it was fine.” But he heaved a deep breath, and Sofia’s  insides twisted. Something was wrong; she could feel it. “Just a long day. What are you  baking?” 

“Brownies.” Her hand reached behind her to grip the edge of the bassinet. “The  neighbors enjoy them.” 

Nikolai glanced behind him, back to the door, and then turned back to Sofia.  “Yeah, they do,” he agreed. “Listen—” 

“No.” Sofia’s knuckles turned white. She wasn’t playing this game. She wasn’t  doing this. Nikolai wasn’t doing this. “Whatever you’ve done, fix it.” Nikolai came forward, arms outstretched as though to embrace her, but Sofia took a step closer to her son. He stalled. “Sof, this is…this will be a good thing. They can fix him. And we can—we’ll go back to us—” 

“He doesn’t need to be fixed, Nikolai,” she snapped. “He’s different, but we have a plan. We’ll move, or I’ll move. You can stay, keep working, keep looking for ways to  make his life easier, like we planned, and—” 

“I wasn’t ever looking to make his life easier, Sofia.” 

Her voice stagnated in her throat. Her heart stopped. 

“You had to have known that, deep down. Fix him, yeah, but...he’s...you know  what he is.” 

A freak. She could hear him say it. A freak who shouldn’t exist. A nuisance that  did nothing but interfere with their lives. Except that Cain wasn’t any of those things. He  was beautiful, and perfect, and theirs.  

Hers.

Her hand tightened on the bassinet. 

Nikolai closed the gap Sofia created and desperate hands found her face, wiping  tears gathering beneath her eyes. For a second, she almost leaned into him, almost clung to her delusion that everything would be alright. But it, her desperation to pretend they were a team, a family, wouldn’t last. He made sure of that when he sold out her son. 

“Let him go. We—you can come back to the company, they’ll take you back, you  know they will. He’ll go with the others, get help. We can go back to just you and me.” Sofia wrenched backward, any desire to sit in his familiar touch vanishing in a  blink, and she not-so-gently picked up her son out of the bassinet. He shrieked, wings  curling around him best he could after such a careless jostle. She shouldered past Nikolai to get to their bedroom, and he didn’t try to stop her. She didn’t anticipate he would. If Nikolai wouldn’t fix what he’d done, she’d fix it herself. She’d grab a bag,  clothes for them both, and diapers from his room, too, and his blanket, and then— “Sofia, it’s done. There’s nothing either of us can do now.” 

She shifted her son, who’d started to cry in all the careless movement by his  mother. She’d scold herself later for it, but for now, she laid him on the bed while she  started to throw as much as she could into a duffle she’d yanked from the closet floor. 

“Let them take him. He’s not worth it. He’s not worth losing ourselves.” She  heard Nikolai inhale sharply behind her, like this pained him more than it destroyed her. “I miss you. I miss us, Sofia. Aren’t I entitled to that? To want what’s best for us?” What about what’s best for Cain? 

Sofia shook her head as she stuffed Cain’s clothes into the bag next. How could he  do this? He promised he was just busy. Work kept him preoccupied.

We have to make sure he’s compatible with Earth. You know how dangerous  these mutations can be, he’d told her. Nobody will know it’s him. 

He’d taken Cain’s blood. He’d made him cry when he pulled feathers. He’d  promised her it was all to help him. 

But as she crammed clothes into the bag, all those late nights flashed through her  mind. All the times he said he’d be home for dinner, but didn’t call or text when he  didn’t show. All the times she begged for his help so she could rest, but he didn’t get out  of bed. The way he refused to call their son by his name. 

Sofia should’ve known. 

She carried herself to the dresser. 

Sofia should’ve known it would come down to what she was willing to do for her  family. Nikolai was selfish, always has been. 

She turned to face Nikolai. She saw her arm extend. 

“Sofia?” 

The black object in her hand sturdied her the same as the weight of the mountain sturdied Atlas, just as her shoulders carried the same weight of the sky. But all she could  hear was Cain’s wriggling and crying on the bed. 

Nikolai was no evil mastermind, but he was a threat. A threat to her boy, a threat  to her, a threat to her home. 

“Sofia, stop this—you don’t want to—” 

But she did, and the weight of the world came crashing down. 

CRACK! 

She recoiled back at the sharp release of the gun in tandem with the BANG BANG  BANG that ran elsewhere in the apartment—the door?

Cain’s cries felt like needles against her skin, like a punch to her chest, like a knife  to her intestines. He was afraid. 

Nobody will touch you. I won’t let them. 

Sofia left the bag on the bed. She could get them clothes later. 

BOOM. 

The front door broke down, and, in a split second, she realized she couldn’t make it to the open living room window for the fire escape. She stepped over Nikolai, his dead  eyes at the ceiling, a hole in his head, and she detoured into Cain’s bedroom. 

“Mama's got you,” she mumbled, kicking the door shut behind them. “I’ve got  you.” Sofia hurried to lay Cain on his back, in the crib, and she left his blanket on his  chest for comfort.  

She forced air into her lungs, hands on her head, and the weight of the gun felt  twenty times its weight in her hand, like it would drag her down to Hell if she let it.

Sofia hadn’t wanted children. She didn’t think herself much of the motherly type. But Nikolai wanted children, and he was so ecstatic when she found out she was  pregnant. A happy accident, he’d told her. You’ll feel like a mother soon. Part of her wondered if it was an accident at all. 

But, he was right! From the first kick in her belly, Sofia fell in love. Cain became  her purpose. Even when they were told Cain would have this anomaly, his beautiful,  beautiful wings, Sofia didn’t waver. He was her purpose, and nothing would change that,  even if, almost overnight, it did change for Nikolai. 

She told herself when Cain was born that she’d do anything for this little boy. A  parent’s love, a mother’s love, was one of the most powerful things in the Universe. She’d move Heaven and Hell if she had to, to keep him safe.

Nikolai’s body in the next room proved that. 

Cain babbled sobbing nonsense up at her, fist in his mouth. Sofia dropped her  hands from her head, tucking the gun behind her back as to not scare him further when she reached into the crib to stroke his cheek. “We’ll be okay, baby. I promise.” 

Thundering footsteps rushed outside the room. The door flew open so fast the  handle left a hole in the wall. Sofia didn’t hesitate. She whirled around. CRACK. 

The first bullet entered the wall.  

CRACK CRACK CRACK. 

The next three fired directly into the two invaders. 

She kept her body between Cain and the door, and the boy screamed behind her.  She should’ve found something to cover his ears. 

Nobody came in after that, but loud shouts and shuffling feet and wall shadows  told her they weren’t leaving anytime soon. She wasn’t stupid. Desperate? Without a  doubt. But not stupid. She’d fired a weapon, killed at least three of them. She had two  options, now: leave in shackles, or a body bag. 

Sofia chose the latter. She’d choose the latter a million times over, because the  only way anyone would lay a hand on her son was if she was dead.  Soon, the flashing of blue and red lights outside the building illuminated the hall.  Someone shouted something at her from outside her baby’s room. She didn’t move. No  one was taking Cain. Not Nikolai, not these fuckers, not the police. “Leave!” she shouted. “Get out!” 

Someone moved outside, and she fired another shot. It hit their shadow on the  wall.

“Sofia, this can end peacefully. Put the gun down, and you’ll both come with us.” A lie.  

A pause. 

“Cain isn’t safe here. Nikolai knew that—you know that. Please don’t make this  any worse than it already is.” 

“Says the motherfucker who broke into my home!” 

Sometimes their stupidity baffled her. Sofia knew their tactics. She knew their  lies. She’d pushed their lies for years. She wouldn’t be part of that anymore. They were  mistakes she couldn’t ever fix, except to keep her own child safe. 

“No.” 

Another pause. 

She waited. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

It was maybe two minutes, but it felt like an eternity. For a second, she wondered  if they were going to send in the negotiator. Seemed about the time to. Sofia didn’t know  how many bullets she had left, and the fuckers on the ground didn’t have guns on them.  The only intelligent thing they’d done since their invasion, ensuring Sofia didn’t land  more access to weaponry. 

Clink. 

Her brow furrowed. 

Clinkclinkclinkclinkclink—hisssssssssss—

Sofia jumped backward, her back slamming into the crib as what she barely  registered as a canister erupted. Smoke poured out of it, nearly instantaneously filling  the room as the bodies were yanked out of the way and the door slammed shut. Fuck. 

Sofia pulled her shirt up over her nose, gun clattering to the ground. She turned to Cain, yanking the blanket from his unmoving hands to cover his nose and mouth. He  wasn’t crying, or squirming, and Sofia hardly noticed. 

Her eyes began to droop, shoulders tugging her forward over the edge of the crib.  She couldn’t see anything amidst the grey-ish fog, but she could see the black that danced on the edges of her vision. Her head drooped, chin hitting her chest, only to jerk  right back up. 

No. Stay awake. Gotta—gotta keep— 

Before her shoulders could entirely sag her forward, she leaned back and sunk to  the ground. Her hand gripped the bar of the crib closest to Cain’s head. She couldn’t see  his eyes. He was already asleep. Must’ve been for a while. Well, if he was out....Sofia let  her eyes shut. Moms were supposed to sleep when their babies did. 

Before unconsciousness took hold, if she listened close enough, the hissssss of the  canister now done, she could almost hear the beep beep beep of the oven timer.

About The Author

Thomas is a transgender and hard-of-hearing college student studying speech and hearing sciences, with plans to go to grad school for audiology. He's been writing since he was young, and he mostly writes queer fantasy or dystopian stories. When he's not writing, he's likely either babysitting, teaching soccer, yelling about his favorite characters, or crocheting. He has one cat, who's a gremlin he loves dearly, and he's also quite fond of turtles.