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Can There Be More?

"Rien!"

"What do you need, mom?" Shuffling across the floor she found herself on the seat next to her mother, feigning interest. If she had known it was another procedure, well, she never would have even tried to make it down the stairs.

"Look what I found on SkyMall! it'll be perfect for that problem you've been having with your eyes. It's only 2.5k, I'm going to start a campaign."

"Mother, what was our grocery intake this month?"

Looking around at her surroundings she found there was no one else in the house, as always. The pantry was barren, and the fridge had no contents. The last time Rien had remembered even having half of a meal was for Thanksgiving three years ago. That was until she had her intestinal track tied, she was living off a liquid she didn't even know the contents of, through a tube in her stomach. Barely surviving had become an all out norm. In the Grey society it had been normal for decades for children in the district to go hungry, mostly from their parents income.

It was in the higher classes, like the Elite, the Purple, and the Reds' that they had control over their own wage. Factory owners, business men, people with two parents, instead of one. People like Rien could only dream of being in such a different financial state. The way the system worked made it physically impossible to improve. It's said that bees have a job for life. If that is true, it would make every Grey a drone to the queen: The Purples.

"Why does it matter?" Rien's mother turned to her and placed both of her hands on her sunken cheeks. "You know I do this to protect you. Now go take your infusion."

Simply nodding she stood up carefully and sighed. She had realized at about the age of eleven, that fighting against the condition her mother had, would only make things worse in the long run. So, she sighed and walked in to the kitchen, wiping her cheeks. Lifting up her shirt she got the port open and inserted a different tube, with a different bag in to her pack.

Moments like these made Rien realize that her fate was always going to be decided by her mother. She felt her Munchhausen would last until the last breath left her body. Even once she went cold, the consequences of the procedures she would still have to live with left her wanting more from life.  And who even knows if Rien would live long enough to find out? She fell weaker and weaker every day. The swell of her stomach from the infusion every 5 hours caused hours of pain, she was practically blind from her mono-lid surgery.. the list went on and on. Each one made her feel less a slave to her mother, but more.. a lab rat. "How far is too far?" a constant question. 

"Rien, I need to work an extra shift, but if you need help I can always that one-"

"Mom." Her mother always listened when she heard the 3 letters combined like this, it made Rien sound grateful. "You need a stable income to provide for me, right?" 

"Oh honey. You're so right. I'll get 4 jobs, and get you a nurse to sit with you."

"NO, mom. The one is fine. I'm okay, just go to work."

"Okay... Remember, I'm only one text away, oh, and send me a picture of your infusion bag when you're done, I want to make sure you did it correctly."

Correctly. 'You mean as opposed to how I did it when I took it out, on purpose?' Each day pretending made it harder and harder to fight her, though. Each sentence spewed out of her mouth saying how grateful she was made it harder and harder to fight. Some days seemed like weeks, and weeks seemed like years. She heard her mother shut and deadbolt the door,  start up her rust bucket of a car and drive out of the driveway. Sinking farther in to couch she gripped a cushion and chucked it at a wall, causing a few pictures to fall. Grunting and growling she made her way upstairs, to deal with the pain in her stomach. 

"Could there be more to life?" She said outload as she trudged up the peach colored carpeted stairs to her room. Lying down in bed, she pulled out her laptop and signed in. Hearing the windows refresh sound, she got a notification for her mail server. "You have: 1 new message." In 15 seconds flat she was upright, eyes wide. Who even knew she existed? Clicking hesitantly on the notification, her inbox came up. She clicked on the newest one, and a letter appeared. 

"Dear Rien Yougiolo,

My name is Fordham Dulgey, I am the head of the surgical clinic here in D.C at Shriner's, and would like to ask for appearance at a forum,"  

"I'm not a fucking one person side show." As she went to slam her laptop shut, 6 words caught her eye.  "I can show you happiness in life ."  So instead of slamming her lid down, she continued to read on. The email went in to detail about how  he could save Rien from her mother, and the surgical slavery put on her. Sighing, gently she closed her laptop and leaned back on her pillow. "Show me."  the only thing written on her email , to Mr. Dulgey.