Fuck Birth
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Chase’s first wail echoed through the dark hospital room and down the hallway. Nobody knew just what had caused the power outage. There was no storm in the skies, the last inspection had come up flawless, and there were no problems with any sorts of animals in the building. 


There, in the angry glow of the backup lights, Chase cried. He didn’t cry because he was in pain. He didn’t cry because he was afraid of the world he had been thrust into. He didn’t cry because he was confused. He cried because something felt wrong. Terror gripped his soul, and he knew on a deep level that there was something nearby that didn’t belong in this world. 


He wanted to run, to fight, to do something, but he couldn’t. Every fiber of his being sent panic impulses fluttering, but all he could do was cry. Beg for the help of the people in that strange room. Try in vain to warn them. 


Ten stories below, blood splashed on a brick wall. As a baby cried above, a woman screamed her last. She could feel the rending pain of her fibrous flesh tearing away from itself. Her throat was being ripped apart and torn into by greedy hands, possessed of unnatural strength. Just as helpless as the baby above, all she could do was scream for help that would never come. 


When the police arrived, they found her body completely eviscerated. Someone - or something - had eaten her, leaving only bits and pieces. Bones. Teeth. Hair. The odd piece of flesh or muscle, perhaps from the thighs, riddled with bite marks. The mess was scattered in a rough pile around ten or twelve feet. Whatever happened to this woman, it was beyond the pale, even for murders. She had been torn to literal ribbons and strewn about, not unlike how a toddler may toy with and throw their food from their high chair. 


Later that night, Chase’s mother lay exhausted, totally motionless except for her heartbeat and shallow breathing. His father, meanwhile, dozed in a nearby chair, waking only long enough to feed the child when he tore open the hospital’s stark silence with his hungry cries. The man wanted nothing more out of life than a solid block of sleep, but the baby just wouldn’t have it. With growing resentment, he woke every hour or so to feed Chase. His mother heard the cries and woke many times, but made no move to comfort her new son, or bond with him as a new mother may be expected to. She wished that she had aborted him when she had the chance, then caught herself and issued a harsh mental admonishment for the thought. 


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