THE BABY MILL [[{SHINee}]]

THE BABY MILL [[27]] CRADLE

         Key glared hard into the face of the boy trying to manoeuvre his way to the toilet. He couldn’t even find his balance while sitting down… The bulge that his skin had troubles stretching over set him askew as he attempted to shuffle to the edge of the bed and place his feet on the icy floor. One toe touched down, sending him rocking precariously backwards. At one point, Key actually felt his body seize up in reflex when he dipped onto his side, barely catching himself on an elbow. At this rate he’d end up peeing in his pants instead of the toilet.

            It was the things like these, where he was forced to play audience to the struggles and attention of the much younger person that sent him in a one way descent to a land full of sympathy.

            He’d found himself in a different room when he’d woken from a deep sleep and he’d the twin beds, finding them odd as he was the only one in the room. But then he’d shown up. Barely conscious, looking like a single grape hanging off a vine and being supported by all these bizarre machines that he only recalled seeing during his first days here and partially after his first delivery. He’d been pitiful to look at and Key would have surely thought that he would have been friendlier if he was given a chance to interact with another boy but he surprised himself with his hostility.

            One chance. He’d been given one chance to reintegrate into a social life and he didn’t even want it. There must have been something wrong with him. He’d been a top model – socializing was his business. It must have been the drugs they’d used on him. Or maybe the food… It had always had a funny after taste to it… Either way, he loathed himself for acting like such a child.

            But he kept up with his immature actions. The ridiculousness of the situation made him long for sleep even more despite the nightmares that were haunting him. Key wasn’t fortunate enough to be gifted with the pleasure of being unconscious, however. The little chirps, the small groans and whines that his roommate stuttered kept him awake and alert of every detail that he would have otherwise overlooked. He especially had a childish mentality when he found himself arguing alone about the unfairness of being deprived of his rest while the other boy, whose plaque read, Lee TaeMin, Carrier 32, did nothing else but sleep.

            And then a particularly horrible thing always happened once TaeMin woke up. He would look around, dazed and confused before trying to sit up only realizing after a minute’s struggle that the alien in his womb wouldn’t allow it. And then, after it appeared like he had fully grasped the concept of the stomach block he ran his hand over his stomach with a sentimental look on his hollowed out face. After a while he would wince and clench up as if his care for the lump had triggered pain all throughout his frail body.

            It was torturous for Key to watch. Especially since sometimes he turned his big eyes to look at him, demanding for some help or for a remedy to his discomfort. He loathed it. Part of his despise came from deep in the back of his head where all the contempt he held for his roommate was held.

            He knew all too well what it was like to squirm and shift non-stop in hopes of finding a fair position. He knew the feeling of a hundred thousand pounds compressing all his organs and the cramps that attacked when they fought for space. He knew how the cold sweats larruped simultaneously with the heat rushes that made the illusion of being in a fever. And he could recount a tale of every sore and bruise, pinch and kick, migraine and belly ache. And he knew how disturbingly wonderful it was to feel those tiny limbs press against the walls of its domain, even if it was excruciating…

            For that final reason, that was why Key disliked even the idea of sharing a room with another carrier… Or at least this one. When looking at TaeMin his mind would wander to the time of his pregnancy. His heart still cried for the little body to dance in his stomach again. Separated at birth; the only chance he had gotten to hold his new born was when it had been nestled peacefully in the lower part of his abdomen, sandwiched between his bladder and pelvis. And he had to agonize over this daily now because of the pregnant boy beside him.