The baby stirred from the comfort of my bed, scrunching up his little face, while I held my breath. I closed my lips with a snap and looked at Adam in the mirror. Our giggles filled the room until a soft whine cut through our mirth. I burst into laughter, and after a second, Mom did too. “How many times should I apologize for being born?” “I used to be a size zero too, little show-off. Size zero.” Olivia picked up my uniform with two fingers and tossed it over her shoulder. I put my hand to my raw, aching throat and smeared it with blood. Why wouldn’t they stop? Why wouldn’t they. Impossible to understand what was going on. Horrible, piercing shrieks that made it impossible to concentrate. It flowed down the metal-hot and thick and seeking my fingers. Wide, terrified eyes gazed at me in the glint of the steel until they disappeared in the gush of the liquid.
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