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Description
All was white and clinical.
"Just lay back and relax," he told her.
All was hot and cynical.
She glanced sideways, saw her mother's face.
"And breathe," he said again, snapping on some gloves. Martha squeezed her eyes shut.
I don't want to ever open them again!
"You can stop if you want," her mother told her, more urgent than comforting. Martha's eyes flew open. Her jaw clenched.
"No," she said, mustering all the strength she had for that one word. Her mother released her hand and leant back into her chair.
All was white and clinical.
Martha resorted to staring at the ceiling.
All was hot and cynical.
The gentle sucking sound started. She jumped, and before her eyes,
all was flesh, umbilical.
And without meaning to, she cried out. The doctor paused, her mother just looked angrier.
"Shall I stop?" he asked, raising his voice over the sucking. Beads of sweat clung to Martha's hairline, and she found herself gasping. The doctor exchanged a look with her mother.
"Stop, stop," she tutted, dismissing the doctor.
"No, don't stop!" Martha yelled. She sat up, clutching the armrests.
"You can't do this," her mother hissed.
"Yes I can!" Martha shouted. God she was sick of her mother. Sick of everything. Sick of all this shit. She just wanted to--
Thump!
Martha shuddered, barely managing to catch her breath. She was winded, flattened against the chair, the ceiling swirling above her, about to beam her up into a dream land. Her mother was crossing over her. She couldn't see. The ceiling lurched at her. Martha was dizzy, so so dizzy; was that the tablets or Trinity's face floating around in front of her? Dear Trinity...
"Do it," she'd heard faintly. Do what?
A needle found a home in Martha's arm.

Martha woke up. And she felt so... invaded. She knew.
She rubbed her legs together, trying to get rid of the feeling. They'd taken it. It was gone. Over. This was what she wanted, right? But why did her mother let it happen? Martha looked around. Her mother was nowhere to be seen.
All was white, and all was clinical.
She swung her legs out of bed and inspected them. She was fine, really. But when she lifted her gown, the feeling of the tube returned, moving around inside of her like a...
No, she didn't want to think about that again. Martha tensed, fighting the mixture of feelings. Suddenly she felt so empty. She missed the weird little alien thing. Maybe if she searched the bins she could find it and get it back?
The door slid open, and Trinity was there.
Martha made a noise and launched herself off the bed, landing in the safety of Trinity's arms. Trinity hugged her close, felt the nakedness up Martha's back.
"What did they do?" she whispered.
"I don't know." Martha squirmed. She didn't want to talk about it anymore. She didn't even want to think about it. Wow! Something swelled inside of Martha. Her grief took a rollercoaster turn, looping into ecstasy. The smell of Trinity's clothes drove her crazy. She threw back her head, and crushed their lips together. The pair stood for a moment, immobilised. It must've been only a minute, but Trinity eventually pulled away, and steered Martha towards the bed, who was quiet.
"You need to rest," she told her firmly, licking her lips of Martha's broken taste.
"But Trin."
"Go to sleep. I'll stay with you," she said, guiding her to lay back. Martha watched her, wanting her. But Trinity simply pulled the blanket up and stroked her hair, whispering nice things to her. Martha's eyes drooped shut. And in her dreams,
all was white and whimsical.
Her mother came in.
All was hazed and physical.
Trinity! She was hurt. Martha struggled to get to her.
All was flesh.
And somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, Martha knew. Trinity was gone.

Description
All was white and clinical.
"Just lay back and relax," he told her.
All was hot and cynical.
She glanced sideways, saw her mother's face.
"And breathe," he said again, snapping on some gloves. Martha squeezed her eyes shut.
I don't want to ever open them again!
"You can stop if you want," her mother told her, more urgent than comforting. Martha's eyes flew open. Her jaw clenched.
"No," she said, mustering all the strength she had for that one word. Her mother released her hand and leant back into her chair.
All was white and clinical.
Martha resorted to staring at the ceiling.
All was hot and cynical.
The gentle sucking sound started. She jumped, and before her eyes,
all was flesh, umbilical.
And without meaning to, she cried out. The doctor paused, her mother just looked angrier.
"Shall I stop?" he asked, raising his voice over the sucking. Beads of sweat clung to Martha's hairline, and she found herself gasping. The doctor exchanged a look with her mother.
"Stop, stop," she tutted, dismissing the doctor.
"No, don't stop!" Martha yelled. She sat up, clutching the armrests.
"You can't do this," her mother hissed.
"Yes I can!" Martha shouted. God she was sick of her mother. Sick of everything. Sick of all this shit. She just wanted to--
Thump!
Martha shuddered, barely managing to catch her breath. She was winded, flattened against the chair, the ceiling swirling above her, about to beam her up into a dream land. Her mother was crossing over her. She couldn't see. The ceiling lurched at her. Martha was dizzy, so so dizzy; was that the tablets or Trinity's face floating around in front of her? Dear Trinity...
"Do it," she'd heard faintly. Do what?
A needle found a home in Martha's arm.

Martha woke up. And she felt so... invaded. She knew.
She rubbed her legs together, trying to get rid of the feeling. They'd taken it. It was gone. Over. This was what she wanted, right? But why did her mother let it happen? Martha looked around. Her mother was nowhere to be seen.
All was white, and all was clinical.
She swung her legs out of bed and inspected them. She was fine, really. But when she lifted her gown, the feeling of the tube returned, moving around inside of her like a...
No, she didn't want to think about that again. Martha tensed, fighting the mixture of feelings. Suddenly she felt so empty. She missed the weird little alien thing. Maybe if she searched the bins she could find it and get it back?
The door slid open, and Trinity was there.
Martha made a noise and launched herself off the bed, landing in the safety of Trinity's arms. Trinity hugged her close, felt the nakedness up Martha's back.
"What did they do?" she whispered.
"I don't know." Martha squirmed. She didn't want to talk about it anymore. She didn't even want to think about it. Wow! Something swelled inside of Martha. Her grief took a rollercoaster turn, looping into ecstasy. The smell of Trinity's clothes drove her crazy. She threw back her head, and crushed their lips together. The pair stood for a moment, immobilised. It must've been only a minute, but Trinity eventually pulled away, and steered Martha towards the bed, who was quiet.
"You need to rest," she told her firmly, licking her lips of Martha's broken taste.
"But Trin."
"Go to sleep. I'll stay with you," she said, guiding her to lay back. Martha watched her, wanting her. But Trinity simply pulled the blanket up and stroked her hair, whispering nice things to her. Martha's eyes drooped shut. And in her dreams,
all was white and whimsical.
Her mother came in.
All was hazed and physical.
Trinity! She was hurt. Martha struggled to get to her.
All was flesh.
And somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, Martha knew. Trinity was gone.