Page 98 of Depravity

My hand is slick with blood; the coppery scent fills my nostrils, fuelling my frenzy.

I have to rip it out. I have to rip it all out.

I don’t know where the toy went. I don’t know when that disgusting pleasure turned to pain but now that I’m here, now that my hand is buried inside me, I know that this is the answer to it all. This here is my salvation. My pathway back to redemption.

The pain is a distant echo. My screams of fury seem to drown out everything else.

I will not be his broodmare. I will not bring a child into this world to suffer at the hands of a monster. If this is what it takes to end it, to force Conrad's hand and bring about my own demise, then so be it.

I will mutilate my body, I will claw out my own womb if that is what is necessary.

The room around me blurs, my vision tunnels as I spiral deeper into my own personal hell.

I am no longer a person with hopes and dreams. I am a creature of despair, a wretched soul caught in the throes of a battle I may not survive.

But there's a strange sense of power in my defiance, a perverse strength that courses through my veins alongside the pain. I am marking myself, reclaiming my body as my own, even as I defile it in my madness.

This is my choice, my decision, the one act of autonomy I have left open to me.

So, I claw, and I rip, and I mutilate, until my arms can no longer move, until I’m too exhausted to do anything more.

Is it enough? Is the damage enough to ensure my destruction?

Because I know what he will do, I know how he will act when he sees this, when he realises his precious little doll cannot be bred after all. He will end it. He will end me.

I should feel some fear in that, some concern, and yet now, in this moment, all I feel is acceptance.

And in the quiet that follows, a strange calm washes over me. I have made my choice, I have drawn my line in the sand. Whether I live or die, I will do so on my terms, not his.

He may have shattered my spine, may have shattered my body but I am still here, still fighting, the only way I know how.

Istare in horror at the mess. At the blood. At all of it.

I know this has nothing to do with her back. That this here, is something else entirely.

And then she looks at me, with an awful, crooked smile on her lips and she raises her hands, and she shows me her bloodstained nails.

“Now I will never carry your child.” She smiles.

What the fuck has she done?

I sprint from the room, shouting for the damned doctor once more. Christ, the amount of time he spends here, he might as well just move in.

He appears looking far less concerned than is acceptable and as I usher him in, he finally shows some level of understanding.

“What happened?” He says as if I was the one to do this.

“I don’t know.” I reply. I didn’t get a chance to look at the cameras today. We had a new shipment in and I’ve been with Dustin, I’ve been rushed off my damned feet.

He crouches down, examining her for a moment. “What did you do?” He asks her softly.

She narrows her eyes, fixing her gaze on me, as if he doesn’t even exist. “I will not bear him a child. I will not.” She spits with all the venom she can muster.

The doctor grabs his bag, starts examining her and then shakes his head in disbelief.

“What is it?” I snap. What the fuck is going on?

“She must have tried to rip out her uterus.” He says turning to look at me.

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