Chapter Text
The mark was already on their son's ribcage from the moment of his birth, which meant his soulmate was older than him. By how much they didn't know, but they didn't have the capacity to even care about such a mundane detail. Not when the name itself was an abhorrent thing.
Helena didn't live under a rock. It was the 90's. There were queer people on the news, and even a few popped up on television shows now and again. She'd never met one of them before, but that didn't mean they didn't exist. But here? In their little town an hour outside of El Paso, Texas? At their church? In their home? Those types of people did not exist. Could not exist.
She wasn't a monster. It wasn't her baby's fault that this was happening. If anything, it was her or Ramon's fault: this was a curse brought upon them by some higher power. Did God give them a son with a male soulmate to test them? Was this His way of testing their devotion?
Helena would never forfeit her baby for the sake of God. She was a failure if that was the case.
Ramon was subdued, standing at her bedside, in this with her.
"There are ways," he said quietly, breaking the heavy silence that had overcome them since the moment she pulled down the side of the blanket and her son's ribcage was exposed to them.
The nurses had handed her her newborn with a smile, oblivious to the upheaval it would cause his parents. "He's already marked, too. We'll give you two some alone time."
Now they sat in silence, trying to wrap their heads around the reality of their situation. Their firstborn, their son, was...
"It will hurt him," Helena said with a tiny whimper. She stared at her baby, her beautiful baby, and wondered why God would do this to him.
"He's a baby. He won't remember the pain." Ramon extended his hand and gently rubbed his baby's head, where dark hair was already present. His little eyes squinted up, unfocused, but in his direction.
"We can fix this. I think we were meant to fix this." Ramon's voice gained confidence and he nodded to himself. "We have the means to make sure he lives a happy life. A good one. A godly one. Not everyone has the ability to fix these kinds of things."
"God only gives us what we can handle," Helena said in a small voice, but nodded. She kissed her son's cheek and held him close.
"Let's fix it."
Ramon traveled for work, and that had its advantages. He was able to ask for guidance from churches far away from their own town. It was a shameful thing to discuss, a taboo topic; to attempt to remove a soulmark was an abhorrent thing. He was careful how he asked.
"What can I do if my son is destined to be with a man?"
"How do you address men who love other men?"
"Is it a sin if my son is in love with another man?"
"How can I save my son's soul from damnation if he's in love with another man?"
It took six months and countless churches before he found a priest who wrote down a phone number on a scrap of paper and sent him on his way. The priest warned him to never come back, and made him swear to never tell the authorities about their exchange. Ramon promised.
It wasn't unheard of to want a soulmark removed, especially in cases where there was infidelity or abuse. It was, however, strictly prohibited to perform a mark removal from anyone under the age of 18 and without consent. Soulmark removals were heavily regulated by the courts, and done by trained professionals.
Ramon called the phone number and was given an address. The call lasted less than fifteen seconds.
He met the woman one on one first, at a public park in a picturesque neighborhood. Ramon explained their situation: how they were devoted Catholics, how their son's soulmark was a mistake, and how they wanted to save their son's soul from the name bestowed to him against God's will.
The woman agreed to the removal. She said her name was Blue and a retired physician who specialized in mark removals. She gave no other details about herself. But she was kind. Her smile was gentle. She was empathetic and godly - exactly the type of person he needed and trusted to do this for them. Helena would be happy meeting with this woman, he was certain.
"It is not your fault and it is not your child's fault. Some of us are tested, and I'm here to guide those to a righteous path. Do not feel guilty for this. Your baby is innocent, and we're saving him. This is a good thing, Mr. Diaz." The woman patted his hand and Ramon felt more at peace with their decision than ever.
Reassured, he called Helena and delivered the good news: Eddie would be saved.
She used a numbing cream but did warn them that the ribcage was a sensitive part of the body. At eight months old, Eddie was too young to safely use anesthesia outside of a hospital. It would hurt him, but it would be over quickly. He would cry, but he would never remember.
It would take four sessions for the removal, one per letter. She would be able to tattoo the new soulmark wherever they wanted once the removal was complete. She used holy ink for all of her tattooing, blessed by a priest, similar to the blood of Christ presented during communion. It would be a ceremony of sorts: a baptism, a cleansing. She believed it was something to celebrate, not to mourn.
Eddie cried. Their baby screamed. Each letter took about five minutes to remove. Eddie struggled to breathe through the pain. His skin was bright red and angry, leaving uneven circles where the letters once were.
They did one letter at a time, with long breaks in-between. Waiting gave the burnt skin time to heal, but that was not the only reason for the time gaps between sessions. The emotional toll of removing a soulmark was the main reason they had to wait. Eddie wasn't just screaming because of the burning of his flesh. No. The true agony was in the stabbing pain in his chest as his soulmark was severed involuntarily, inch by inch, breaking the sacred bond that was still fresh to the infant. Too little to articulate the pain, all Eddie could do is cry.
Helena cried for him, too, hugging her son to her chest after each letter was replaced with a burn mark. By the time the E, V, and A were gone, Helena protested.
"We can't do this again, please. Just add new letters after the N. It's enough, isn't it? His soulmark can say Nina."
Helena held Eddie in her arms, reluctant to pass her son over for a fourth time to the doctor. Three letters was more than half. Ramon was frowning, but did not argue for more.
"Every time we remove a letter it severs the sinful soul bond further. It's cleaning. This is a good thing." The woman said gently, kindly, softly.
Helena wanted to slap her. Rage filled her suddenly and she scowled.
"Then three out of four is enough! It's more than enough to deter him. That is enough. Add the other letters. You're not burning him again." Helena glared at the woman, her mind made up.
"He will still be damned."
"We will raise him right," Ramon said, stepping up beside his wife.
Blue pursed her lips and nodded stiffly, conceding. "With the right teachings, any soul can be guided to the light. God willing."
"He will be alright," Helena said softly, kissing Eddie's cheek. "We saved him."