Mr and Mrs Nemesis✔️

Chapter Eleven - Like Mother Like Devil Spawn

The squeal of my mother still resounds in my ears.

She's so excited to see me bring home the baby that she's made sure to take an early finish from work so that she can be home when we arrive.

I'm convinced that she's going to have a heart attack when Ferne goes into labour and actually births a real life child, not just a squishy thing powered by a battery pack that needs charging every couple of weeks.

I've not spoke to Elijah since I found out he's a big fat liar. Of course, things are going to have to change now, considering we're parents. Ugh, the injustice. Mrs Ford plans to designate us our child today in our childcare and development class, which is just before lunch, giving us time in school to adjust to the addition and make sure there are no issues before the weekend comes.

I'm not sure why I accepted to have the first weekend with the robot, a lapse of judgement it seems, but when I confront Elijah about it at the beginning of this lesson, he assures me that he's made himself completely available for when I need him to come to the rescue. I'd rather suffer the torture than give him the satisfaction of me needing his help.

"Congratulations, it's a girl." Mrs Ford muses, with a practically audible smile. I shoot her a deadly look before I take the baby from her, cradling it awkwardly. It feels completely ludicrous to treat this very not real baby like it's completely alive, but I reckon carrying it like a football will do little for the point monitoring system. "She's set up ready to go; here's your goodie bag," she says, handing a large pink satchel bag to Hendrix.

"Suits you." I scoff as he strings it over his shoulder, looking at the bag in distaste.

"I'm in touch with my femininity." He returns, firing me the middle finger.

"As I was saying," Mrs Ford continues with strain, "there are nappies, clothes, bottles. Everything you need. If you need any replacement teats for the milk bottles, find me as soon as possible. They're specially designed to make sure that it acknowledges each feed."

"Don't worry miss," Hendrix says with a smug grin, "we've opted to breast feed." I turn to him with narrow eyes, raising my hand to punch him, but when the baby makes a strange gargle of discomfort at my jolty movements, I pause.

"Good luck guys. Off you go." Hendrix and I leave a gleaming Mrs Ford, him carrying our supplies, me the baby, as I awkwardly rock it to keep it lulled.

"Fix your face; you look like you need to take a shit." He scoffs.

I grimace slightly, looking down at the child in my arms. "It's just so weird!" I tell him. "It's like pretending your hairbrush is a microphone. Does the job, just doesn't feel right." He rolls his eyes but nods all the same.

"I'm just upset that we've got a child without the fun of actually making one." He sighs, feigning misery.

I give him a wide eyed look as we turn towards the cafeteria. "Careful Hendrix; sounds as though you've got the hump because you couldn't get the hump. Never going to happen."

"More your loss than mine Osborne." He retorts smugly.

I scoff doubtfully. "Men with big egos are usually overcompensating." He fires me a deadpan expression to which I smile sweetly.

We enter the cafeteria which is already bustling. I keep my eyes on the baby, making sure she doesn't stir with the rather rapid change in noise. She's still making sounds, but she's not unsettled, thankfully. Of course, I speak too soon, barged in the shoulder by someone from the younger year, sending me stumbling. Hendrix takes a hand to my shoulder to ensure I'm stable before turning round and bellowing in disgust, "Watch the baby, prick!"