THE BABY MILL [[{SHINee}]]

THE BABY MILL [[47]] OXYTOCIN

            “Push!”

            “AHHHHHHHHH!”

            Something about breathing! And staying calm! About how everything was going to be okay! It hurt now but it would feel okay after!

            5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

            “He can’t push! It’s too dangerous!’

            “What do you want to do?!”

            “He needs a caesarean!”        

            Key had said that if his stomach hurt too much he could rub his hands over it. Or if the baby was moving too much, he could do the same thing. Should he try that now? He wondered if it would work.

            Onew had said that when the pain got too much in his back he could try rolling onto his side. It would be painful for the few moments it took to move, but it would feel heavenly afterwards. Or as close to heavenly as one could possibly get.

            1, 2, 3 –

            “PUSH!”

            No! He couldn’t do it! He couldn’t do it! It hurt! It hurt to breath; it hurt to think, it hurt to live, to sit, to lay here like a half cooked and rotting vegetable.

            To hell with what he’d been told! He wanted to end everything. Let them cut him open! He couldn’t do it any more!

            4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

            No… He just needed to breathe… In the time he’d roomed with Key the other carrier had always told him that he freaked out too much. It may have been true… TaeMin never took enough time to evaluate himself and the decisions he made both consciously and unconsciously.

            He was able to do this. Back at school he’d put up with enough crap to be able to deal with this. It was just one more thing he needed to surpass. Yeah, that was it. This would be another accomplishment he could add to his trophy case.

            There’d be a plaque underneath it, too. Lee TaeMin: survived the fucked up birth that should have never happened. Maybe if he begged enough eh could get his baby to exhibit on that shelf, too.

            1, 2 –

            “Push!”

            “He can’t!

            Screw the trophy! TaeMin wanted to demolish everything on that stupid shelf! The baby would be the first thing to go! He would use the pain sending acid through this blood stream to avenge himself. Every person who had dared to even toss him a comment about his effeminate frame and second hand clothes would feel the force of the pain he was in now. He’d get them all! Every last one of them!

            Why couldn’t he remember what the other carrier had told him?!

            3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

            MinHo wouldn’t have to feel any of that pain. It wasn’t his fault that his sperm had caused this madness trying to claw out of his body. They were in the same boat; the same boat in two different oceans.

            TaeMin had never gotten the time to hang out with him at school. Why had he even bothered to save him in the first place? It was a question he’d always wanted to ask the other. He would have asked, too, if he hadn’t been hauled off to this horrible place.

            Hell was a strange place to make a best friend… And a baby.  Yet here he was.

            He needed to breathe. TaeMin was panting with the strain of pain. His body was ticking down the seconds till the next agonizing contraction. Poised on the line between “okay” and drowning in the lava baths in Satan’s realm.

            But Key had told him to breathe. So he would breathe. Breathe, just breathe… It was a solution for nearly everything.

            1, 2 –

            “He can’t push any more! We’ll lose them both!”

            They could let him go. He would take the ticket out of here! Toss him behind the locked doors! Let him rot to death! They could take that awful baby, stuff it and mount it on their wall. It’d be missing something essential anyway! Like a leg, an eye… Both eyes – something healthy babies had!

            Finger nails! His baby wouldn’t have finger nails! They were probably claws! Breathe! Breathe! Breathe! He needed to breathe!

            3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

            TaeMin wasn’t going to be kept here. He’d come to at the moment where someone had declared that he was going to be transferred. There had been no room for argument in the gruff of the owner’s. TaeMin surely wouldn’t have spoken up, though he was vouching for his own death, so he wasn’t the best opinion to harvest.

            Was he flying?

            He saw a light… Several, all blindingly white and waiting… Waiting for TaeMin to join them. They were calling out to him, whispering that It was time to join them. His time was over here… He was finally free to go.

            1, 2, 3, 4 –

            He’d been tricked! It was a clever ruse to make him believe that he was safe! It had all been a lie!

            He was sobbing. Or he thought he was.

            Somehow he’d been brought to another room. TaeMin had been too caught up in his own fantasy of escape to connect the details into one picture.

            What was this blue curtain? What were they trying to do?

            He just wanted it to be over already.

            5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

            A cloud of fog started wrapping itself around TaeMin. He found his mind fraying… The seams that had been holding him together slowly disappearing. Key was forgotten, his words of advice having disappeared some time ago in the midst oft the maelstrom. Onew became a supporting character in the story that was this carrier’s life. All he needed now was for some pink elephants to dance in a conga line.

            1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

            A whole line of elephants in tutus strolling into his room.

            It would be neat for his child to see that. He would name her Cindy. Or Clyde. Or maybe Dr. Frankenfurter… All those sounded like lovely names in the ears of the carrier.

            Where had the pain gone?

            He wasn’t going to let himself believe again that he had reached the firmament he’d been praying for. It was impossible for him to be there anyway. The pounding migraine squeezing his temples all but confirmed that anyway.

            How much longer now?

            1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

            Dr. Frankenfurter was crying.

            “It’s okay little baby,” he wanted to coo. Another elephant passing while doing the tango. “Daddy is going to take care of you.”

            1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

            Hush little baby don’t you cry… Daddy’s going to sing you a lullaby…