They say there is only one thing more painful than a morphling addict giving birth and that is the withdrawals weak newborns must endure. It is more painful for the baby for the simple reason that the mother invariably dies. In the rare case that the mother still has enough sense to realise they want to carry the child in their drug ravaged body , the birth is just too much for their already weakened systems to endure. Truth be known, there has only been 18 cases where a morphling mother has given birth, every mother has died and only 3 of the children have had the strength to last the months it takes to get the drug out of their system. Here in district two, granted one of the wealthiest districts, there still isn't the medication to aid the child available. So they simply suffer in excruciating pain. The lucky ones may have a sympathetic adult who attempts to get them through but most people don't want a dying child to deal with.
He was born in the worst circumstances imaginable. His morphling mother died moments after the birth and the nurses simply took him to the nursery placing him in a spare crib. He lasted about an hour before his body started screaming for that alien substance. The little wail from his throat quickly became a series of jagged, sharp, involuntary movements that normal babies shouldn't be capable of. The other mothers watched in horror as blood started to drip from his nose, eyes and mouth. His screaming became desperate, quickly invading the entire room. Mothers grabbed their children and left the room hysterically. He continued to scream before mercifully the pain simply knocked him out.
"What are we going to do with him?"
"No one wants an orphaned child."
"We can't just leave him…that is cruel."
"But necessary, it's hard enough feeding ourselves. He is morph addicted. He needs full time care for months to have even a slight chance"
"I will take him. I couldn't leave a child to starve to death."
"It will cost you more than you imagine. Think about it! You wouldn't be able to work, how would you feed yourself?"
Anne, a young mid wife stood with the comatose baby in her arms. He still twitched involuntarily, letting out small gasps of pain. His poor body was tiny with blotches all over his back. Classical symptons of the drug users. He didn't choose this. She had supportive parents and friends. As far as Anne was concerned the little boy was hers as of now.
"I'm taking him. Everyone deserves a chance"
The doctor dropped his head. He had known for quite a while that Anne was stubborn and possessed of too much care for others. She had been one of the better nurses at the hospital and she would be sorely missed. "What will you name him?" he asked resignedly.
Anne thought for a while. She looked down at the jerky baby. "Cato"