THE BABY MILL [[{SHINee}]]

THE BABY MILL [[10]] MISCARRIAGE

Excitement could be one word that MinHo could use to describe how he felt at the moment. It really wouldn’t be a big deal to others. Probably just a part of the daily routine to them. To him, though, it was a luxury that he was prepared to enjoy.

            The water…. He could practically feel it cascading down his body and wiping away the grime and dirt that had built up on his body. If he had enough hope he would sing in the shower as he lifted his weary arms to lather the soap in his hair. Or most likely a worker would have to rub the soap over him today since he’d been suffering from weakness in his limbs lately that had left him with difficulties with his movement. Dr. Park suspected he had an iron deficiency, but the blood test results had yet to confirm his theory.

            Nonetheless, he would enjoy the moment while it lasted, whether he was washing himself or not. It was the one time he got to relax some…

            With the content thoughts buzzing in his head, MinHo didn’t notice the stir of panic racing in his direction… Hoards of workers clad in their pale blue scrubs fresh off the iron boards stampeded towards the donor. Dr. Park led the frenzied gang of medical staff while simultaneously barking out order for people to clear the way. It wasn’t until a tray laden with syringes clamoured into the donor’s path that he raised his heavy head to stare at the chaos.

            Never before had MinHo seen Dr. Park’s face contorted into such an ugly mess. The waves rolling off of his aura crashed into him harder than the fists of the worker that had beat his snappy mouth.

            He didn’t understand how so much emotion could be packed into one face. It was anger that primarily dominated the arrangement of feelings but fear and panic was closing in fast and hard.

            Dr. Park ran beside a gurney, not caring that he was causing a spectacle. Usually he tried to hide the carriers and situations such as these from the donors. Unfortunately, this was not one of those controllable situations and the doctor so happened to be in a jam that fell under the “wrong place, wrong time” category.

            “Move out of the way!” he hollered.

            The workers surveying MinHo pushed him up against the wall. They pressed him hard into the sterilized wood as if they were trying to push him into the mould to make him fully disappear. The pressure of his bulging ribs caused him a great deal of discomfort, but none that he wasn’t able to tolerate.

            From the corner of his eye he could make out a gurney being rushed by him. The inflated body of a carrier stuffed his vision in a grotesque demonstration of what this place could reduce a person to. The supports of the gurney shook from the force of the convulsions racking the body. The supports of the gurney shook from the constant convulsions racking the body. It could barely even be called a body anymore… To MinHo it looked like a balloon with brittle sticks poking out of it at odd angles. The boy looked gaunt with a sickly grey hue colouring his skin. The foam dribbling out of his mouth did nothing to aid his appearance expect maybe it colour coordinated with the white’s of his eyeballs which were rolled so far back in his head that no colour – save the red of his popping veins – could be seen.

            It was scary… To see this… To see that… What if it was his carrier? It was an impossibility at most considering he knew via Dr. Park’s rage filled tangents that his carrier was proving to be infertile and a useless addition to the experiment. But it was someone’s carrier. Someone’s son, or brother, cousin, friend. He was a person like he was and MinHo was repulsed to see him in such condition.