darkened as blood obscured my vision. It sprayed me
in a warm heavy wave.
I shook the splatter out of my eyes. Missie’s
body still quivered slightly. Her eyes were rolled back
in her head. Feeling like I was in a trance I pulled the
knife from her chest, hearing the raw sucking sound as
the blade parted from the mangled flesh. I waited for
the body to quiet. When all movement stopped I slit
Missie’s abdomen. Blood and guts spewed forth in a
tangled, steaming torrent. The overpowering stench
threatened to suffocate me. Gagging and retching I
stumbled to the kitchen window and breathed in great
gulps of fresh air. When I felt steadier I returned to
Missie’s corpse, taking with me a pair of rubber gloves
from the sink. My task was not yet complete.
I put on the gloves and poked around Missie’s
insides. It was tough going, with so much blood and
gore, but I held my breath as long as possible and at
last I found what I was looking for. My hands closed
around the fragile sac containing the fetus.
I removed it from the ruined abdominal cavity,
brushing away bits of blood-slimed tissue that clung to
the surface. I held the transparent sac up to the light,
staring in fascination at the two-month old being
suspended therein. It reminded me of a delicate insect
preserved in amber, but with a definite human form. I
wondered if its tiny brain had any warning as to its
impending destruction, or whether it remained
insentient to the end.
I could so easily have crushed it with the
gentlest squeeze of my fingers. The thought that all
human life begins like this, a misshapen lump of bone
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