Make Believe
- Reads 48
- Votes 1
- Parts 8
Ongoing34m
Last published Wed, Nov 7, 2018
After the recent death of my Mother I am turning to writing as I way of getting all the thoughts out of my head I feel I can't talk to other people about.
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#206
daybyday
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In agony I deliver the children of faceless, infertile clients. To them I am nothing more than a vessel, bearing the fruit they so wish to carry within themselves. They love me for my ability, and they hate me for it. This is why I am hidden away here in the Factory where they cannot see my rounded stomach, swollen with their life. When the life inside me is gone, birthed into their eagerly-waiting arms, I will be left with nothing. I will be impregnated again, and again, until my body is ruined and I am sent away. I should question this system, this ritualistic rending of my heart, but I do not-in fact, I volunteered for this job. And now, six babies later, I am afraid to leave. It is better to carry life, even temporarily, than to have never carried it at all.
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