The Urbem (Completed)

Chapter Two: Uxor

(Nephele)

My mother tried to console the crying woman as they took the screaming baby away from her arms and handed it to the nurse who waited a few feet away. I dared a look; it was another one of them. Suddenly my concern for the woman left, and I no longer felt sorry for her.

“Please,” she said, reaching for the bundle of screams, “can I see my baby?”

“No,” said my mother firmly, pushing her back down on the bed. “There is no need; you had a boy. He’ll be taken to the sorting room where his fate will be decided. He is no longer yours.”

“B-But don’t I get to even look at him? Doesn’t he get a chance?” she pleaded, wiping her sweaty, blonde hair from her exhausted face.

“You know how things work around here; they are a menace. Just erase this birth from your mind. That thing,” she said pointing to the baby, who was now being taken out of the room, “was never born, okay?”

The woman opened her mouth to protest but I was bored with this conversation, so I left the birthing room, moving into the hallway. Mama and I should not have even been here; it just so happened to be that the Queen had asked my mother to be on hospital duty today; the one day I had to go to work with her.

I sighed heavily and sunk to the white, marble floor of the hospital corridor. Why my mother was so patient with these people, I could just never understand. If you ask me, any woman who can give birth to a boy and be proud about it is lower than low. I mean, I know every woman is asked to give birth at least once in her life, but many who have boys give them up and adopt a girl instead. But those who continue giving birth, forming as strong attachments with males as they would with females; that's just absurd. Who would want a creature like that tied to their name? Definitely not me. Although I'd never really spoken to a fully grown male, I knew what they were like; the tales of old taught us so.

Suddenly a familiar and dirty blonde lump of a creature came walking towards me slowly, its hands tied by handcuffs that became electrical should it try anything funny. When he got close, my hand reached down to stroke my gun belt I had wrapped twice around my corset-clad body. I don't know why I liked to have a hand on my weapon. I guess it just made me feel safe around these animals.

"Miss," he said, "may I sit? My feet are tired from-"

"Shut up," I snapped, not looking at him. "You're lucky I let you go to the bathroom, da?"

He didn't say another word from then on; he just stood awkwardly opposite me glancing at the ceiling now and then. I don't even know why I had the unfortunate task of caring for this man. I knew it was procedure for every woman to get a man of her own on her eighteenth birthday, but I had told mama that I was perfectly capable of doing my own chores and handy work. I didn't need a man hovering over my shoulder all the time.

Regardless though, I got him. Twelve, as I had numbered him, came into my life as an irritating burden; nothing more, nothing less. I hated the idea of being stuck with him until I die... How horrifying. I don't know how my mother has done it; she's spent almost thirty years with Eighteen, her man. At least Eighteen was quiet. Twelve had a tendency to speak when he's not being spoken to; I mean he's lucky I don't make him sleep outside in the cold or cuff his feet together.

"Twelve-" I started, about to break into some huge angry rant at his insolence, but, alas, I didn't get to finish for my mother came storming out of the birthing room with a very unhappy look on her face.

"Get up," she said to me, storming off down the corridor with Eighteen following mindlessly behind her. I was up on my feet in seconds, all my bangles, buckles, belts and weapons clanging noisily as I did so. "Those women irritate me so much!" she fumed, waving her hand in the air.