Chapter 3: Not Yet Gone

Hate.  The only emotion she felt towards her past.  It had swallowed up her best 
friend and spat her out here on the cold tile floor of this little Pokémon 
Center.  It had left her outside the walls of her certain future with an infant 
of her own cradled in her arms.  Slowly, she rolled from her side to her back, a 
grimace on her face.  The cold of the tiles on her back seemed to be a harsh 
reminder of the cold hard efficiency of how Giovanni ran his ‘business’.  God 
she hated that man for destroying her life… or was it her own doing?  She had 
consented to marrying him, she had given that man a child, and she had even 
allowed the experiment on that child to take place.  No no she could think that 
way, she had to move on and start anew.  Gradually she sat up, the warmth of the 
child in her arms comforted her.  Looking down, she smiled at her baby asleep, 
snuggled against her chest.  He was her only link to the past and yet he was the 
only comforting thing she had.  “It will be ok, it will be ok,” she whispered, 
lightly kissing the soft skin of her child’s forehead.
A shrill scream tore through the room, sending a chilling sensation up Delia’s 
spine.  “ARE YOU OK?!” the same voice asked in horror, cracking with each 
syllable.  
A trembling hand grasp tightly to Delia’s arm, a face appearing in the corner of 
her eye.  Every muscle tensed through Delia’s body, a hand sliding from under 
her baby, balling into a protective fist.  The hand tightened its grip as the 
face became more visible.  “Are you ok?” 
Turning her head, Delia stared into the worried eyes of another woman.  She was 
no older than Delia, her hair a chocolate brown her eyes a fiery red.  “I’ll be 
alright…” Delia sighed, looking away from the lady’s gaze.
A quick breath hissed through her teeth as a finger ran lightly along one of her 
cuts.  “We’d better get you some help…” the woman spoke quietly; examining more 
of Delia’s scratched and scarred body.
“N-no…” Delia stammered back. 
“You’re crazy,” the woman sighed, climbing to her feet.
The clicking off heels quickly echoed off as this mystery woman ran off, 
disappearing behind a small counter, through a set of swinging doors.  The 
clicking soon died off, replaced by the eerie silence of the night.  The windows 
showed nothing but the emptiness beyond their domain, the blackness hiding the 
fears that Delia had tried to leave behind.  An ear-piercing wail broke out, 
jerking Delia back into the present.  Staring down into the disturbed face of 
her child she slowly wobbled up, standing in the middle of an empty lobby 
shifting back and forth.  The double doors behind her swung open, slamming 
against the wall, sending the child deeper into his crying fit.  “Ummmm  Ma’am?  
Do you need some food for your child?” the same woman from before asked, holding 
one of the doors against the wall.
Carefully, Delia turned, her feet sliding untrustingly along the smooth tile 
surface.  “Yes,” she replied with as much volume as she could muster from her 
battered and exhausted body.
“Will you be able to make it over there?” another woman asked, her hands clasped 
together in front of her.
“No, she won’t Nurse Joy,” the first interrupted, resting her free hand on the 
new lady’s shoulder. 
Knowing that the lady was right, she lowered her head staring down at the bags 
she had carried here through all that night.  “What would you like me to do for 
her Mrs. Waterflower?” Nurse Joy asked, casting concerned glances towards Delia.
“Please find us a wheelchair for her.  You do have one, correct?”
“Yes, yes, I believe we have one.  I’ll go get it,” Nurse Joy answered 
cautiously, disappearing back into the rear of the Pokémon Center.  
Small metallic squeaks whined as Nurse Joy returned, pushing a simple 
wheelchair.  “Will this do ma’am?” Nurse Joy asked in her usual cheerful tone.
“Yes, it will do just fine,” Mrs. Waterflower answered with a smile.
With a nod, Nurse Joy pushed the wheelchair out into the lobby slowly rolling it 
to Delia.  “Please ma’am take a seat and we shall take care of your child’s 
needs,” Mrs. Waterflower invited over the screams of the child.
Delia eased into the waiting chair, letting her body sink into the cloth seat.  
The wails of the child persisted, echoing in the vacant lobby.  Gently, Nurse 
Joy turned the chair and began to follow Mrs. Waterflower’s lead.  Silence 
soaked the room in a chilling calm.  A faint wail resounded from behind a small 
door as Mrs. Waterflower rested her hand lightly on the knob.  The door was 
slowly pushed open, spilling dim light into the dark room.  The wails subsided 
into broken sobs, as Mrs. Waterflower flipped on the lights.  
Peering around Mrs. Waterflower, Delia noticed a crib against the opposite wall, 
a cot laid out next to it.  The walls were painted an almost blinding shade of 
white.  Faded red curtains hid the only window leading to the outside world.  
Soft patting follow Mrs. Waterflower as she strode over to the crib, reaching in 
to gently cradle her child in her arms.  The crying child squealed with delight 
at the warmth of her mother’s arms holding her.  “It’s ok Misty, it’s ok,” Mrs. 
Waterflower cooed rock back and forth.
Nurse Joy pushed Delia further into the room, “Anything else Mrs. Waterflower?”
“No, thank you Nurse Joy,” Mrs. Waterflower replied without removing her 
attention from Misty.
For the first time tonight Delia and Mrs. Waterflower were ‘alone’ and not on 
the brink of hysteria.  “I’m sorry, my name is Rose, Rose Waterflower,” Rose 
introduced herself turning to smile at Delia, “and this is my daughter, Misty.”
Uneasy silence followed, lingering in the air like smoke.  A squeal of delight 
broke the atmosphere.  Both women looked up to see a giggling Misty, staring 
intently at the baby in Delia’s arms.  A smile creped across Delia’s lips, 
“Seems your daughter has taken a liking to my son.”
“Seems so,” Rose laughed, “But could you kindly inform me of his name?”
Delia quickly lowered her head, her eyes snapping in all directions as if the 
floor could name her child on a whim.  Closing her eyes, she felt an odd feeling 
washing over her senses, distorting her perception.  A single memory consumed 
her, throwing her into the past.  Birds chirped as she viewed a woman, herself, 
sitting beneath a shady tree.  A soft melodic tune floated through the air, 
giving a carefree atmosphere to it all.  ‘Stepping closer’ she began to notice 
her enlarged abdomen, her hand lightly rubbing her enlarged figure.  All to once 
a name flashed before like lightning.  “Ash. His name is Ash Ketchem.”
“Well, Mrs. Ketchem you have a beautiful son.  I must say my daughter has good 
taste already,” Rose smiled even deeper, twisting lightly.
“Please, Rose, call me Delia,” Delia sighed, brushing a single strand of black 
hair from Ash’s face.
“Ok Delia.  Do you still need that bottle?”
“If you could,” Delia replied politely.
“Ok,” Rose strained as she gently leaned over the crib edge, resting Misty on 
the mattress.
A sigh escaped Rose’s lips as she bent over to retrieve her bag containing her 
child’s essentials.  With Rose turning back Delia noticed the stress in Rose’s 
eyes.  Rose quickly exited the room, her back bowing under the bags weight.

Light sucking noise drifted throughout the room as Ash and Misty both emptied 
their warm bottles of milk.  Delia hummed softly, still perched in the 
wheelchair as Rose sat silently on the cot.  The window had been opened to allow 
the soothing night sounds to envelope the room in their musical tunes.   A light 
breeze toyed with the curtains, tossing them playfully in all directions.  With 
an empty bottle, Ash pushed his mother’s hands away from his face, snuggling 
against her chest.  A flash of red at the window, caught Delia’s attention, her 
muscle tensing at the sight.  “Rose!  We need to get some help!” Delia nearly 
screamed, jumping from the wheelchair, sending it back against the wall.  
Another bolt of red flew past the window.  Delia eyes revealed her hysteria, her 
head snapping in all directions, searching for an escape.  Rose sat eagerly on 
the edge of the cot, not understanding Delia’s sudden outburst.  “Please…  
please get the police….” Delia begged, dropping to her knees, clutching Ash 
closer that ever.
In a flash, Rose jumped to her feet.  She set Misty in the crib and rushed off 
into the lobby.  Hurried speech came from the lobby as Rose phoned the local 
police.  A loud crack followed by shattering glass filled the lobby with more 
commotion.  The thundering of heavy boots was heard as Delia slowly leaned 
against the door, closing it softly.  One question rang out in Delia’s head as 
if they had shouted it in her ear: “Where is Delia Ketchem?!”
Her body shook with fear as she stumbled over to the crib, her side striking the 
crib’s railing.  Pivoting on the railing, she situated Ash next to Misty with 
the greatest care she could afford.  Delia’s eyes widen with a greater fear, 
even if Rose denied her presence the bags laying in the lobby would give her 
away.  She knew she had only one way out now and it was the one thing she had 
opposed in the first place: killing.  Voice still shouted from the lobby, doors 
slammed as Rockets poured into the building scouring every crevasse for Delia.  
With a deep breath Delia reached into her pockets and withdrew the two pistols 
she wielded.  With brisk steps she reached the door and grasped the knob.  With 
a final glance back over she whispered to Ash, “If I don’t survive, I just want 
you to know that I love you…”
With that she threw open the door.

To be continued…