THE BABY MILL [[{SHINee}]]

THE BABY MILL [[2]] CERVIX

A mountain rose underneath the blankets where one of Dr. Park’s boys slept. After his extensive checkup that morning he’d been confined to his bed and forbidden to move. Not that he could move even if he wanted to. Movement was very limited for him in these days. The closer he drew to his due date the harder it was for him to keep his eyes open.

            This thing – the unnatural being growing in his body – was draining the energy out of him. So much so that he had a hard time raising his head during meal times. He found it pathetic how protein shakes could barely even pass down his throat anymore. The staff had even started transporting him to and back from the checkups in a wheelchair. It did little to help his discomfort, but it did alleviate some of the pain by taking the pressure off of his feet. The real issue they couldn’t address was the bulging stomach stretching his skin out awkwardly and pulling at his in order to cover the alien being inside of him.

            That thing – he wasn’t sure if he could even bring himself to call it a baby yet – had been his only companion throughout the past eight months. After all this torture in this place he was grateful to the little thing inside him for kicking ever now and then and reminding him that he wasn’t alone. And yet, he was disgusted by it… The very fact that he was housing it in his body – his male body – made him crinkle his noise with distaste. He loved the thing with so much hate.

            He had yet to figure out how he could love something so abnormal…

            As he was rubbing his pained stomach and mulling over this thought he felt a sharp pain coming from down at the base of his spine. Lasting a mere few seconds he hadn’t even been sure that it had passed, but when it came again ten minute later his fears were confirmed.

            Being male he had never needed to picture what it would feel like to go into labour. He’d just adopted the usual male perspective to it: labour was as painful as being punched in the nut sack. And even though he was one of the males who were a bit more sensitive to the females’ pains, he couldn’t deny that he had thought the same as everyone. The few times he had tried to imagine the pains of labour, he had never imagined it being this painful.

            His mother had once told him that that she had been in labour with him for six hours and then had had to push for another two. Her perseverance astounded him now, as thirty minutes later he had felt mounds of pain pummel him and he was already losing hope.

            The pain was unnatural, though… From the first to the recent one abusing him in this moment, it had gone from tolerable to unbelievably crippling. They came in waves every few minutes and left him writhing under his bed sheets which had been quickly drenched with the sweat excreting from his body. When the next bout of pain came the sheets tangled around his ankles, slipping off the edge a bit as they were kicked. A scream ripped out of the boy’s throat in the final seconds of his contraction. It was so goddamn painful!

            Dampness pressed into his cheek as he turned with difficulty onto his side. Adrenaline flowed in his veins, supplying him with the energy that fueled his next gut popping scream. The employees assigned to this section of the clinic did not need more evidence to confirm their suspicions.

            The floor manager burst in first, eyes peeled for a problem as soon as they were focused. His team of two that tagged along behind him awaited their order out in the corridor. Commands were tossed left and right once the issue was identified.

            It was total chaos in the room.

            Somehow – the boy wasn’t quite sure how – they got him transferred to another room. Through the debilitating moments of agony he was able to make out fluorescent lights blurring together and burning his eyes; cold metal pressed up against his back…

            Total mayhem.

            A gruff voice barked out orders. A sharp sting pierced into the laboured boy’s hand, breaking the skin there and entering into his caving vein.

            He wanted it gone. He wanted all of this gone.

            There was a flinch worthy crack as he threw his head backwards to belt out a scream. It collided with the metal supporting him in what must have been an intensely hard collision. Thankfully, the harsh surface was padded down quickly by the surrounding adults in order to save the boy from inflicting anymore damage on him.

            Why hadn’t it gone yet?

            Pandemonium.

            The little thing seemed to kick and jerk in his stomach. It pulled on its manmade umbilical cord. Thrashed about. Sang out its own screams of agony to the outside world only to be silenced by the enclosure it was trying so hard to break free of.

            A new voice harmonized with the madness. Anger held firm to its raising volume, but panic tainted it. The boy wasn’t sure if he was hearing it correctly (with the fuzziness threatening to dominate his mind it was hard to discern his toes from his eyebrows, much less different tones in one’s voice), but there as definitely some fear shaking that man’s vocal cords.

            Bones were shifting in his pelvis. He was more than sure of that. Things had never meant to be pushed down there. It wouldn’t fit. It was going to get stuck and then they would both lose their lives. Everything was grinding together… So chilling that it compared to the noise nails being scratched down a black board produced.

            What hadn’t it gone yet?

            Madness.

            His body was bound to split in two. Letting out a low anguished moan the boy flailed in search of something to grasp. There was a great craving in him that made him want to cause the pain he was feeling on someone else. The air was the only one that fell victim to his sporadic movements, unfortunately for him.

            The smell of sweat and blood mingled together. Something about drugs and pushing was yelled into the air. The young boy felt his body constrict, like an anaconda trapping his body, shoving all his strength down to his nether regions. When he relaxed seconds later he was beaten with the rage of the contractions again. The hits made him want to squeeze that thing out of him even more.

            Needles poked and pinched his skin. A pair of hands started pushing inwards on both his sides. He couldn’t figure out what they were doing. Things began to move in his body, squishing and mashing together in an organized mess. There was a feeling stirring him… Bones kept grinding against each other… Moving…

            He just wanted it all to go away.

            Cacophony.

            “Why didn’t you give him that shot earlier?” a voice demanded.

            A loud pop shushed all the noise. The fog finally managed to take hold of the boy lying vulnerable on the table. His mouth opened, ready to belt out a large round of screams, but he found his mouth dry and his tongue unable to form coherent sounds.

This must have been what Hell felt like…

            Another pop pursued the first, screeching out in ultimate protest.

            As the world began to slip away from the boy’s consciousness a new sound pierced the air. Fresh and innocent… A beautiful note in this dying symphony… The purifier to this dirty deed; the light that was shining on the darkness of the situation.

            The baby’s cry shook the air in a good way. He would have smiled had he not still been suffering from the betrayal of his hips.

            “Kim Kibum, put him on the list!” someone shouted. “Bring him to the next room and fix him up.” The dirtiness spread again with that brusque voice, leaving a sour taste in the boy’s mouth as the curtains were pulled on his consciousness.