Logs:Baby Killer
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| RL Date: 25 April, 2009 |
| Who: Madilla |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: Madilla deals with the results of her conversation with Milani. |
| Where: High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 1, Month 8, Turn 19 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Milani/Mentions |
| It took most of Madilla's willpower not to show too much of what she was feeling, over the three days it took for Milani's body to rid itself of the baby. Baby. She couldn't think of it as anything but: a living creature, a warm, soft, baby-smelling baby that would need cuddling and soothing and loving. A baby that would never get to have any of those things, now that it was nothing but blood, something to be disposed down the midden. She'd never been involved in this, before. Most women in the weyr used Between, and so, while there was sometimes some clean up for the healers, it was never quite like this. She suspected Delifa might have protected her from it, too; suspected that probably there had been other occasions, and she just hadn't known. Other women. Other babies. Babies. She'd known the symptoms, the process. But there was a difference between reading up on it, and actually seeing it happen, knowing all of it. She knew it was probably the right decision that Milani was making, for her, if not in general. But part of Madilla had wanted to snatch the cup away before the Headwoman drank it, to say no, no, no, don't do this, it's a baby, and you're killing it. She kept that bottled up inside her, though, didn't even talk about it to Delifa, though the Journeywoman asked her, repeatedly, if everything was all right. She was relieved when Milani could go home, and she didn't have to think about it, anymore. It was done. There was nothing she could do, not now. But she cried into her pillow that night, like she had those nights beforehand. She felt like a murderer, no better than someone who killed someone else with a knife, or hit them over the back of the head. She'd poisoned a child, a little thing that couldn't take care of itself, couldn't register an opinion. I thought healing was all about saving lives, she thought, as she curled up, alone, in the dark. Not taking them. But she would never admit that. Not to Milani. Maybe not to anyone. It's my shame. I don't want anyone to try and convince me otherwise. She dreamed of babies, that night, of babies that reached out to her, and looked at her with such sadness, as if to say "you betrayed us, you killed us. How could you do that?" I don't know, she told them, she swore to them. I'm sorry. I was just doing my job. And they just looked at her, so sad, and then they dissolved into blood and nothingness, and drained away. |
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