THE BABY MILL [[{SHINee}]]

THE BABY MILL [[9]] HEMMORAGE

It was all routine. Once a week. Every week. Probably on the same day, but because he’d lost track of the days he wasn’t exactly sure.

            Something he was sure about was that he had passed these walls before. That chip on the left wall was still there. Finger prints still garnished the silver hand rails. Carts full of sterilized instruments were still cluttering the hallways along with the gurneys. One small difference to the scenery this time was the one gurney being pushed along by a gaped faced worker who couldn’t be older than thirty. He was nudging along a lump covered by a white sheet that Onew had become all too accustomed to during his stay here. It nauseated him that this didn’t affect him more.

            He supposed it was because it had become the norm to see the lifeless beings being carried off… Nonetheless, it didn’t bother him now, but later, when weariness broke down his body, he would find himself trapped in a nightmare where the dead boys would come back and demand to know why they had suffered as they did. And Onew wouldn’t be able to answer.

            It was all routine.

            They would scream profanities at him and spit on him the tears that had fallen onto their tongues. Every night was the same. And when he woke he would have two people hanging their heads into his vision and checking his vitals while that hand brushed his sweaty hair in a continuous pattern.

            They would feed him ice cubes and poke him with everything they had on hand and Onew was stuck lying on his back and staring up at the blank ceiling. All the faces of the dream boys would paint the blank slate before becoming a mist carried off by his deep breaths.

            It was all routine.

            The doctor would dote on his hand and foot until he was certain that he was calm or he was called away by one of his brainwashed minions.

            Onew was all too familiar with it and it disgusted him.

            A sharp kick to the inside of his stomach shook him out of his deepening terror. The aftershock of the jab spread out through his entire abdomen, moving to his pelvis and up the base of his spine. It hurt, but it was a great distraction. One he knew would leave him into another whirlwind of pain – physical and not mental this time.

            There was more that came and it seemed to hit harder than ever. Scarily hard. Bone on skin. Like a sledge hammer to a skull. This chick was trying to hatch out of its egg, but it couldn’t find the exit and was panicking.

            This was not routine.

            The wheelchair he was in suddenly seemed too small and too tight. Like his stomach. He would have to break out of this womb in order to help out the being in his.

            Heaps of sweat dampened his loose robe immediately. His hair became just a mop doused in murky water desperately needing a rinse. The fire burning his body was probably evaporating all of the liquid, though. Would the two gorillas escorting him notice the way his face had puckered up to alleviate his discomfort (or give him the illusion that it was)? Did they notice the river they were wading through? Surely it didn’t take a genius to pick up on the signs.

            Pressure rose from his spine to the base of his neck where it throbbed meticulously. It felt like a balloon was being blown up under his skin; the feeling was definitely not an enjoyable one.

            Onew tried to tilt his head upwards to call the attention of a worker, but he found himself paralyzed. The sudden inability to move frightened him dearly. If he was not able to move then how would he be able to push out the child? If it wanted to come out it would, if not by the artificially created opening than by the slit that it would rip out of his body. But Onew wasn’t sure if his body could handle the incision… Yesterday it had been a challenge just to open his eyes…