Her screams were muffled by the rags stuffed into her mouth, allowing nothing more than the moans of agony to filter through. Sweat sheeted off her body, drenching the dirty sheets beneath her, turning the brown a darker colour. She quivered with exhaustion and fear, trying not to think of the consequences of her actions. She should have harvested the embryo when she had the chance, protected herself and her soon to be born child against this heartless enemy she used to call a fiancée. The enemy she used to love and want to be with. How things had changed.
The brief pause between contractions gave her precious few moments to consider her life and perhaps the greatest mistake of her life – falling in love with John Druitt. The love and lust had blinded her, clouding her judgment until it was too late, then she'd realised she was pregnant with his child - the gravity of the situation had dawned on hold. A child – born to two abnormal parents.
She couldn't place her finger on when things had changed, or when she had first noticed that he was no longer the same man she had fallen in love with and shared her body with, yet here he was, a knife to her throat as she heaved with exertion, her body straining to bring the baby into the world but her mind trying to prevent the inevitable.
She knew this time her longevity that had only just begun to become apparent, would not save her. She wasn't strong enough yet – and he knew this would be his only chance to be rid of her now that her purpose was served. Kill her now while she was weak and there was no way he could be troubled by her ever again.
Once the child was born it would be ripped away from her and her own life rudely ended. Their child however, born of two genetically abnormal parents would be groom and shaped into whatever dark reasoning clouding John's mind. She feared for the child and what abilities he or she may have, and just what purposes those abilities would be used for. No matter which way she turned the situation in her mind – the outcome was always bad.
Another muffled scream was torn from her throat as the contractions came more quickly now, barely giving her enough time to regroup before the next onslaught. John seemed to almost drool in anticipation, knowing his plans were about to come to fruition. Everything he had planned was about to come into being, and would be heralded by the wails of a newborn.
The urge the push came thick and fast and she tried in vain to resist but her body would not listen. Millenia of birthing had trained the female body well and against her will she bore down, muscles straining to force the child along the birth canal.
Within moments the feeble cries of a newborn shattered the tension that permeated the small room and she predicted the child was whisked away from her mother before she could even catch a decent glimpse. Helen slumped against the dirty sheets, her eyes closed in exhaustion as her body tried to recover from the experience. She knew her time was rapidly running out and that she should escape before John came back, but her weary body would not listen. Panting she lay, her energy spent and her emotions running rampant, knowing she was about to die. She no longer cared about making sure she had passed her placenta, nor making sure she wasn't bleeding freely. The logical part of her mind that was Dr Helen Magnus was screaming at her to look after herself, to tend to herself before making her escape and saving her life, but her body refused to budge.
Her heaving gulps of air made it hard to listen for the arrival of his footsteps that would herald her doom, and before she could think the door creaked open, the glint of a knife the only light in the room.
Beyond caring – she closed her eyes and awaited her fate.