I delivered a baby today. It was nice. It’s always nice. There’s something very special about bringing a new life into the world, everyone says that, I know but it truly is.
It was a boy.
I held him in my arms for a bit and once the pleasure wore off, I couldn’t help but wonder what his life would be like. What I was delivering him into a miserable existence? What if he rues the day he was born? Would he hate me? The person who was instrumental in bringing him into the world? I would
The room became silent and the mood apprehensive. He hadn’t cried - The sign to show he was fine. His mom asked if he was alright. One of the two nurses assured her he was, while the other looked at me, waiting for me to hand him over so they can have his mouth and nose suctioned to aid breathing.
I hesitated.
What if he didn’t want to be here? What if he knows what awaits him? Why should I force life on him when clearly he does not want it.
No sooner had the thought crossed my mind when he opened his mouth and let out a loud scream. All three women laughed in relief. I handed to the nurse and watched them coo over him as they wiped him down.
His mother watched intently, tears running down her face. He was the most beautiful thing she’d had ever seen, she said. The nurses agreed.
I can’t say if his going to be a looker or not but for his sake I hope he is. The world is very cruel to the have nots.
Sitting behind my desk 30minutes later, the pleasure now completely worn off, I wondered what was wrong with me. I seem to be going through the motions and it at that moment I came to the conclusion that I was bored. Bored with life, bore with work, bored with love, bored with everything.
I need some excitement.
I need to remind myself that I am alive and the only to do that , the only way I’ve ever done was through death. . . specifically murder.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
The Circle of Life - Living
Tonight I had dinner with an old friend and ex lover. We chatted about nothing and everything, both of us working hard to keep up the façade that we were mature enough to still be friends. We had to. . . we had no one else in the world but each other, we were stuck whether we liked it or not.
I asked how his work was going, he answered splendid. Good and his health? Not bad, just the usual ulcer that comes with being an online broker. I told him about a new medication and promised to get him some. You’re always on, aren’t you he said. Well, that’s why they make us take the oath, I reply. This was a running joke with us. He asked what else was new in my life, I was going to say nothing but then for no apparent reason, I told him about the baby boy I had delivered the day before and how it had brought out a strange feeling in me. He smirked and asked me if I my biological clock was ticking. I told him I didn’t think I had one. This made him laugh.
He offered to walk me home. . . he didn’t think the neighborhood was safe for a girl walking alone at night. So many dangers lurking in the corner, I agreed, giving him the opening he needed to launch into a tirade about me still living like a pauper. As he had done a million times before, he offered to find a place for me in the ritzy side of town where he lived and as I had done a million times before, I declined. I like where I live, the noise, the rotten stench, the smell of human suffering, it all spoke to me. I didn’t tell him that, he would only tell me I needed to break away from the environment we’d both grown up – The State Orphanage, where no matter how clean it was, it never lost the oppressive air and smell that clung to it.
A couple of blocks from my apartment stood what used to be a playground. Now it was a meeting place for the homeless. Every day they come there, old and young, man and woman, children and teenagers, sometimes in groups, sometimes alone. No matter how different they are, they all wore the same expression – Hopelessness
A complete contrast to what I had witnessed the day before. A mother who looked at her son with hope filled eyes. He would grow up to be great; I bet she prayed just as I’m sure somebody did for these ones. Obviously prayers were no match for fate. . . how else can one explain why they were huddle over a burning trashcan trying to keep one, the same trashcan they fed from, drank from and clothed from. Every morning they wake up to a day with no promise, yet they continued to. . . I found it all very fascinating.
No surprise. . . my companion didn’t share in my fascination. He turned his nose up and cursed. Something had to be done about these bums, the scum of society, invisible to the rest of the world, they ought to be carted off to a deserted island, it wasn’t if they will be missed, he spat in disgust and that’s when it hit me.
My heart pumped faster, I felt the blood rush to my head and it was like I was coming back to life.
My boredom elevated and Tomorrow suddenly held promise.
I asked how his work was going, he answered splendid. Good and his health? Not bad, just the usual ulcer that comes with being an online broker. I told him about a new medication and promised to get him some. You’re always on, aren’t you he said. Well, that’s why they make us take the oath, I reply. This was a running joke with us. He asked what else was new in my life, I was going to say nothing but then for no apparent reason, I told him about the baby boy I had delivered the day before and how it had brought out a strange feeling in me. He smirked and asked me if I my biological clock was ticking. I told him I didn’t think I had one. This made him laugh.
He offered to walk me home. . . he didn’t think the neighborhood was safe for a girl walking alone at night. So many dangers lurking in the corner, I agreed, giving him the opening he needed to launch into a tirade about me still living like a pauper. As he had done a million times before, he offered to find a place for me in the ritzy side of town where he lived and as I had done a million times before, I declined. I like where I live, the noise, the rotten stench, the smell of human suffering, it all spoke to me. I didn’t tell him that, he would only tell me I needed to break away from the environment we’d both grown up – The State Orphanage, where no matter how clean it was, it never lost the oppressive air and smell that clung to it.
A couple of blocks from my apartment stood what used to be a playground. Now it was a meeting place for the homeless. Every day they come there, old and young, man and woman, children and teenagers, sometimes in groups, sometimes alone. No matter how different they are, they all wore the same expression – Hopelessness
A complete contrast to what I had witnessed the day before. A mother who looked at her son with hope filled eyes. He would grow up to be great; I bet she prayed just as I’m sure somebody did for these ones. Obviously prayers were no match for fate. . . how else can one explain why they were huddle over a burning trashcan trying to keep one, the same trashcan they fed from, drank from and clothed from. Every morning they wake up to a day with no promise, yet they continued to. . . I found it all very fascinating.
No surprise. . . my companion didn’t share in my fascination. He turned his nose up and cursed. Something had to be done about these bums, the scum of society, invisible to the rest of the world, they ought to be carted off to a deserted island, it wasn’t if they will be missed, he spat in disgust and that’s when it hit me.
My heart pumped faster, I felt the blood rush to my head and it was like I was coming back to life.
My boredom elevated and Tomorrow suddenly held promise.
The Circle of Life - Death
The phrase “unplanned death” makes no sense. Every death is planned, maybe not by the one who is dying but planned nonetheless. I think instead of unplanned death, it should be called unconsciously planned death. A man who dies in a car accident wasn’t the victim of an unplanned death, from the moment he bought the car. . . his death was planned.
It took me three weeks of meticulous planning. Three weeks of watching and waiting. Three weeks and I found him. He was just perfect. The right height, the right weight, the right build. . . just perfect. He had been a little suspicious when I first approached but he quickly dismissed “Just a girl” I could almost hear him say. We talked. . . well I did the talking at first but by our 3rd meeting, he opened up. I brought him canned apricots and a loaf of bread. He eat it all in one sitting and then apologized. He’d not had fresh bread in years, he said. . . I told him I understood. He told me about himself over milk and cookies. . . I baked them and I listened attentively. A veteran he said he was, served his country like a good citizen but lost himself in the process. Over a cup of freshly squeezed orange juice, he asked me why I was doing this. I’m a doctor, I replied matter of factly, it is my job to end suffering and pain. Thank you very much he said, my pleasure I answered.
He trusted me.
It was time.
I chose a weekend. . . I wanted to savor it.
Friday - Woke up as usual, went to work, did my rounds, wrote my notes like the good doctor I was. A package came for me, it was the ulcer meds I had ordered 2 days before. I made a phone call, it’s here I told him, come over tonight and get them. I gave the nurses instructions for the patient in bed 8. If her temperature rises above 100, page me. With my purse in hand, I walked out of the hospital.
At home, I did my yoga. No sooner had I finished that the bell rang. I opened the door and he walked in, no hi or how was your day, just another tirade about not being careful, opening the door without asking who it was. He could have been anyone he ranted. I wasn’t expecting anyone, I retorted casually, I was expecting him. He scrunched his face up and I laughed and grabbed the pills out of my purse, handed it to him. . . once a day, instructed firmly. Yes mum, he answered, rolling his eyes. He ripped it open and swallowed one. Any big plans for the weekend? He asked. I thought for a sec and replied nothing big. I didn’t have to ask, If he had any plans . . . apart from the occasional golf with a few acquaintances, he never did. I turned on the TV. When Harry Met Sally was Playing, we sat back to watch.
By the time Harry and Sally said their I love Yous, he was already asleep. I looked at the time; it was 15 minutes to 10. I tapped him gently, only his head moved. I put his arm on my shoulder, grabbed him by the waist hoisted him up. He opened his eyes, smiled and mumbled something about chocolate syrup before shutting his eyes again. I laughed and slowly helped him to the bathroom and managed to dump him in the tub. I looked at my watch again, it was 10 on the dot. He sprawled in the bathtub like a baby in the crib. I move closer to make sure he wasn’t pretending. Satisfied, I walked out the bathroom and quietly shut the door. I grabbed my jacket and keys and left the apartment.
It took me three weeks of meticulous planning. Three weeks of watching and waiting. Three weeks and I found him. He was just perfect. The right height, the right weight, the right build. . . just perfect. He had been a little suspicious when I first approached but he quickly dismissed “Just a girl” I could almost hear him say. We talked. . . well I did the talking at first but by our 3rd meeting, he opened up. I brought him canned apricots and a loaf of bread. He eat it all in one sitting and then apologized. He’d not had fresh bread in years, he said. . . I told him I understood. He told me about himself over milk and cookies. . . I baked them and I listened attentively. A veteran he said he was, served his country like a good citizen but lost himself in the process. Over a cup of freshly squeezed orange juice, he asked me why I was doing this. I’m a doctor, I replied matter of factly, it is my job to end suffering and pain. Thank you very much he said, my pleasure I answered.
He trusted me.
It was time.
I chose a weekend. . . I wanted to savor it.
Friday - Woke up as usual, went to work, did my rounds, wrote my notes like the good doctor I was. A package came for me, it was the ulcer meds I had ordered 2 days before. I made a phone call, it’s here I told him, come over tonight and get them. I gave the nurses instructions for the patient in bed 8. If her temperature rises above 100, page me. With my purse in hand, I walked out of the hospital.
At home, I did my yoga. No sooner had I finished that the bell rang. I opened the door and he walked in, no hi or how was your day, just another tirade about not being careful, opening the door without asking who it was. He could have been anyone he ranted. I wasn’t expecting anyone, I retorted casually, I was expecting him. He scrunched his face up and I laughed and grabbed the pills out of my purse, handed it to him. . . once a day, instructed firmly. Yes mum, he answered, rolling his eyes. He ripped it open and swallowed one. Any big plans for the weekend? He asked. I thought for a sec and replied nothing big. I didn’t have to ask, If he had any plans . . . apart from the occasional golf with a few acquaintances, he never did. I turned on the TV. When Harry Met Sally was Playing, we sat back to watch.
By the time Harry and Sally said their I love Yous, he was already asleep. I looked at the time; it was 15 minutes to 10. I tapped him gently, only his head moved. I put his arm on my shoulder, grabbed him by the waist hoisted him up. He opened his eyes, smiled and mumbled something about chocolate syrup before shutting his eyes again. I laughed and slowly helped him to the bathroom and managed to dump him in the tub. I looked at my watch again, it was 10 on the dot. He sprawled in the bathtub like a baby in the crib. I move closer to make sure he wasn’t pretending. Satisfied, I walked out the bathroom and quietly shut the door. I grabbed my jacket and keys and left the apartment.
The Circle of Life - (Re)Birth
The playground was empty. I walked down the street, taking in the night site, listening to the sound of the living. . . living. 20 mins later, I was back the playground, it was still empty. I headed back to my apartment, as soon as I got in. I heard loud moans, I shrugged my jacket off and headed for the bathroom, he was awake. I asked how he felt. Awful, replied. His mouth had a funny taste and he couldn’t move his limbs.
I smiled, put the toilet cover down and sat on it.
Tetrodotoxin, I said, it would do that to you.
He opened his mouth as if to say something but only saliva came out. I knew what he was going to ask, so I went ahead and told him.
How? Your pills. . . for the ulcer, I laced them with Tetrodotxin.
His eyes questioned
Why? I don’t know really, at first It was about feeling alive but that would have been selfish. . . you know and then you said something, remember that night you walked me home, saw the homeless people and you said they were scum and no one would miss them and I thought. He is right! We should get rid of the utterly useless
I got up, opened the cabinet and brought out a shaving stick and shoving powder and turned back to look at him.
That was not a nice thing to say but you know what or rather who is funny? You are. See, because of your money and your glitzy apartment and fancy shoes, you don’t really see useless your life is. I mean of what value are you to mankind? Can anyone say their lives have changed because of you?
I pressed some shaving cream into my hand and knelt by the tub. I rubbed it on his head and began to shave. He tried to move but he was paralyzed.
Oh sure you have a roof over your head and you are not slumming in a park but you and the likes of you are the biggest scum of the earth. The haves who makes life hard for the have-nots.
I scoop the cut hair and flushed it down the toilet.
Your online clients will get their money back, so no one will come asking any questions. Your golf buddies will get a note telling them you’ve moved. Your condo and the rest. . . well, it is a good thing we named each other next of kin.
I sat on my heels, hands on my lap.
What am I saying? If you disappeared today, no one will miss you.
His chest raised and his eyes widened.
That’s your diaphragm collapsing.
I wiped his now clean shaven head with a towel and began to undress him.
Convulsion is going to start soon and some other messy stuff.
I threw his shirt on the bathroom floor and went for the shoes and pants.
Soon, he was completely naked. On his eyes moved now. I looked at my watch it was just a almost 12 o’clock, I felt his pulse. . . it was slowing down.
I went for my tool box and brought out a scalpel.
Under normal circumstances, this would hurt but you won't feel a thing. . . I promise
I smiled gently and started strategically punching holes on parts of his body to drain him.
When it was done, I played around with the thought of going to be bed but I was too wired. I wanted to speed up the process but that would be cheating. So I waited, when he started foaming in the mouth, I waited. When his bowels loosened and he lost its content, I waited.
By 4am, he took his last breath and I began the process of cleaning him. I bathed him gently him like one would a baby, went to for the bags of ice I had gotten the day before. It took seven trips to get finally get him iced.
I brushed my teeth and went to bed.
Saturday – Bought the biggest luggage I could find.
The rest of the day passed relatively quickly.
Sunday – This was it! The hardest part of it my entire plan. With ABBA playing in the background, I was finally going to practice the skills I had learned in my one month residency of forensic pathology. It wasn’t the best setting but it would have to do.
I drove all night to different cities until it was all gone.
Monday – Woke up, performed my morning ablutions, had breakfast on the go. . . cereal bar. I walked to the park and he was there. He smiled when he saw me, I smiled back. Instead of a loaf of bread, canned apricots, cookies and milk and freshly squeezed orange juice. . . I handed him a small box.
“Everything you need to start a new life”
Without waiting for a response, turned and left. Some would call it identity theft, I called it setting things right.
I walked into the hospital with the feeling of control over life. . . and death itself.
I smiled, put the toilet cover down and sat on it.
Tetrodotoxin, I said, it would do that to you.
He opened his mouth as if to say something but only saliva came out. I knew what he was going to ask, so I went ahead and told him.
How? Your pills. . . for the ulcer, I laced them with Tetrodotxin.
His eyes questioned
Why? I don’t know really, at first It was about feeling alive but that would have been selfish. . . you know and then you said something, remember that night you walked me home, saw the homeless people and you said they were scum and no one would miss them and I thought. He is right! We should get rid of the utterly useless
I got up, opened the cabinet and brought out a shaving stick and shoving powder and turned back to look at him.
That was not a nice thing to say but you know what or rather who is funny? You are. See, because of your money and your glitzy apartment and fancy shoes, you don’t really see useless your life is. I mean of what value are you to mankind? Can anyone say their lives have changed because of you?
I pressed some shaving cream into my hand and knelt by the tub. I rubbed it on his head and began to shave. He tried to move but he was paralyzed.
Oh sure you have a roof over your head and you are not slumming in a park but you and the likes of you are the biggest scum of the earth. The haves who makes life hard for the have-nots.
I scoop the cut hair and flushed it down the toilet.
Your online clients will get their money back, so no one will come asking any questions. Your golf buddies will get a note telling them you’ve moved. Your condo and the rest. . . well, it is a good thing we named each other next of kin.
I sat on my heels, hands on my lap.
What am I saying? If you disappeared today, no one will miss you.
His chest raised and his eyes widened.
That’s your diaphragm collapsing.
I wiped his now clean shaven head with a towel and began to undress him.
Convulsion is going to start soon and some other messy stuff.
I threw his shirt on the bathroom floor and went for the shoes and pants.
Soon, he was completely naked. On his eyes moved now. I looked at my watch it was just a almost 12 o’clock, I felt his pulse. . . it was slowing down.
I went for my tool box and brought out a scalpel.
Under normal circumstances, this would hurt but you won't feel a thing. . . I promise
I smiled gently and started strategically punching holes on parts of his body to drain him.
When it was done, I played around with the thought of going to be bed but I was too wired. I wanted to speed up the process but that would be cheating. So I waited, when he started foaming in the mouth, I waited. When his bowels loosened and he lost its content, I waited.
By 4am, he took his last breath and I began the process of cleaning him. I bathed him gently him like one would a baby, went to for the bags of ice I had gotten the day before. It took seven trips to get finally get him iced.
I brushed my teeth and went to bed.
Saturday – Bought the biggest luggage I could find.
The rest of the day passed relatively quickly.
Sunday – This was it! The hardest part of it my entire plan. With ABBA playing in the background, I was finally going to practice the skills I had learned in my one month residency of forensic pathology. It wasn’t the best setting but it would have to do.
I drove all night to different cities until it was all gone.
Monday – Woke up, performed my morning ablutions, had breakfast on the go. . . cereal bar. I walked to the park and he was there. He smiled when he saw me, I smiled back. Instead of a loaf of bread, canned apricots, cookies and milk and freshly squeezed orange juice. . . I handed him a small box.
“Everything you need to start a new life”
Without waiting for a response, turned and left. Some would call it identity theft, I called it setting things right.
I walked into the hospital with the feeling of control over life. . . and death itself.
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