“As the saying goes, ‘Content people make for bland people’. But at a certain point, extreme emotions can wind up harming the bodies. You don’t have to force-feed it anymore than you already have.”
“I WANT to!” All the suppressed emotions she’d been holding in all this time came pouring out of her in a torrential wave. Her earlier outburst was a trickle compared to the firehose she was spurting out now, even as the Woman with Fritzy Hair kept trying to reassure her.
“There’s no need to overreact. Nobody’s going to harm you here.”
“Who’s overreacting? I’m not overreacting! I’m underreacting!!!” she sputtered, her breaths coming in hyperventilating gasps.
Behind the wall, a signal registered, and a Poacher whispered, “We’re running out of time.” Whether the Woman with Fritzy Hair noticed was unacknowledged, since her approach changed not the slightest.
“I can see this isn’t going to work.” She reached inside a nearby bag. “A simple jab from this needle should solve all our problems.”
Despite her limited mobility, the Girl somehow managed to jump out of the chair, backing away. “Don’t get any closer to me!”
“Come now, don’t be so selfish. Think of how that’s going to affect the taste.”
“This is what you wanted wasn’t it? Something with the taste of action, danger and really wild things!”
From behind the one-way picture, a Poacher muttered, “Here it comes...”
“Now listen to me; Calm down.”
This seemingly harmless remark had the desired opposite effect. In all of history, no one in the throes of panic who’s been told to calm down has ever calmed down.
“I don’t want to be calm! I want to be upset! I want to be able to cry and scream and laugh as much as possible without having to worry about how its going to harm my baby - ” she looked down “ - this baby that I didn’t even WANT in the first place!”
And with that, she started punching herself in the stomach.
The Woman with Fritzy Hair didn’t look concerned at this display of self-abuse. “That’s not going to harm the fetus at all. You’re just going to wind up hurting yourself - ”
“I don’t care! I don’t care anymore... I just want this nightmare to end...” The Girl slumped down, gasping and sobbing on the floor.
“They’ve found us”, the Poacher whispered, keeping his hands up.
At that moment, the door burst open, and a bunch of armed men burst through, surveyed the contours of the room and carried out the Girl who was still sobbing. She hardly noticed their presence, her adrenaline in an already heightened high.
“Target secured!”, one cried, while the remainder kept their weapons trained on the Woman with Fritzy Hair who remained impassive as the doorway was obscured by the presence of a Man with a Mustache.
Even though the armed men all had their weapons aimed at the diminutive woman, never letting her out of their sight, and she was sitting perfectly still, they still couldn’t prevent themselves from shaking. Only the Man with the Mustache remained perfectly calm, and it was the Woman with Fritzy Hair who spoke first.
“You know, we wouldn’t have to go through all this trouble if you would simply let us indulge in some creative miscarriages.”
“Even eating unborn half-species breeds is still considered cannibalism.”
“If you’d just allow us to sample your rejects, we wouldn’t have to sneak around like this.”
“You know I can’t allow that.”
“I still don’t understand why.”
“You don’t need to know. That’s all you need to know.”
“I know, I know. Fear of contamination and all that. You can’t relieve our curiosity somewhat?”
“Too risky. Could wind up unintentionally creating unwanted new life.”
“Funny, that coming from you.”
The mutual respect between the two of them having passed, the Man with the Mustache raised his arm, allowing his men to fall back, relieving them from their position in relief, all while keeping their shaky aim focused on the Woman with Fritzy Hair, who watched with resignation as her valued package left with them.
Even though the Girl was no longer within the vicinity of the Woman with Fritzy Hair, she was still caught in the throes of self-inflicted distress. The Man with the Mustache tried to help.
“Listen, you need to calm down.”
“I CAN’T calm down!! I was told my stress might wind up killing my baby!!”
The Man with the Mustache held the Girl’s thrashing head between his hands and held an intense look in her rolling eyes. “Listen to me. What that woman said was meant to disturb you.”
The Girl didn’t think she would ever feel calm ever again, but upon hearing these words with that steady tone, she started to relax slightly. “R - really?”
“She’s a master at upsetting people. That’s what she does.”
“She - she said my toxic feelings would make the baby tastier.”
“We don’t know that. We don’t know that by overfeeding your baby to the point of bursting would do anything.”
“How - how did you even find me?”
“We got word of your whereabouts, and felt the need to intervene.”
“Excuse me, sir,” a Messenger called, getting the Man with the Mustache’s attention, “here’s a letter addressed to you.”
The Man with the Mustache peevishly looked at the already opened contents of the envelope, laced with fancy handwriting. “Uh, yes. Yes! Your health and good will are important to us!”
As the Man with the Mustache blustered on, the Girl wasn’t having any of it, having recognized the envelope with very familiar-looking handwriting.
Her parents. Of course. The day she left, they must’ve written a letter addressed to the authorities of the City to keep a lookout for their baby Girl, and to keep her from getting into any more trouble. Only, because of their leisurely pace, they’d compensated by using the slowest mailing process possible rather than the faster alternatives. By the time the letter had gone through all the required checkpoints and notifications to reach the highest sphere of influence, the request would have become practically ignored until the keywords, ‘pregnant’ and ‘ONE’ got noticed. Then, and only then would attention be gathered to find and assist her as soon as possible.
As annoyed as the Girl was with this late-stage arrival of long-delayed aid in no part due to her Parents’ outside assistance, she was grateful for it. Now she could finally get some help dealing with the smell. But there was still one more problem to deal with.
“Right now, we still don’t know what species your baby is.”
“Why does that matter?”
“Your water’s burst. Your baby needs to come out.”
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