Disclaimer: I don't own HHE or any of the characters in it.
Hallo mein chickadees! Thanks for stopping in to read this. I'm channeling awesome HHE energy right now so whee! This is a short novelization of the opening scene to Hills Have Eyes 2. It starts at the woman towards the end of her labor and it features the captive woman, Stabber, and Hades. Here we go!
Rated T for bloody grossness, death, and language.
For what felt like the millionth time, the contractions roiled inside her. She could compare it to nothing less than a mule kick in the gut with extra hot knife in the vagina on the side. She tried to hold back the screams, really she did, but to no avail as the intense pain practically ripped it from her. Not that the shrieking helped. It only seemed to make it worse as her muscles reacted to the action. The room she was in was dark which she was thankful for. She was sure that bright light would be a killer for her at that moment.
Another contraction tightened her midsection and she cursed in her native tongue. Straining against the leather around her wrists, she fought to keep her breathing in check. She knew, thought from where she couldn't recall, that breathing through the pain was key in these situations. In through the nose, out through the mouth. The woman repeated the mantra to herself even while the agonizing contractions got closer and closer together. 'In, out, in, out, in, oh sweet fucking Jesus! Out, mother fucking piece of...in.' Her thoughts were so muddled now that she was barely aware of the man who entered the room quickly and quietly. Her already tired eyes followed his silhouette as he approached the right side of the makeshift bed she was laying in. To her, it was more like flaming hot wooden boards digging into her back, but who was complaining?
The man moved something close to her hip, staying utterly silent. She wanted to ask what he wanted, but even her confused brain knew why he was there. Judging by his movements, the woman assumed that it was the same man who had been attending her for the last 9 months. She never saw his face and he never spoke, but his calmness and lack of interest in her made her trust him, even just slightly. There was the other man, as well, but he was someone she would prefer never to see again. He had dragged her from the flaming wreckage of her car and down into what appeared to be mines and there he proceeded to use her.
The memory was still vivid in her mind. The smell, the awful noises he made, and almost laughable fact that she did nothing to try and stop him. He used for for the better part of a month before she realized she was with child. His child. If that was what he wanted her for, she never knew. All she knew was, now, she was tied to a bed sitting upright and screaming through the worst pain she could ever imagine to birth said child.
The woman slammed her head back on the bed frame as another wave of pain shook her. The man was now lifting her legs so they bent at the knee. His touch was not gentle, but not rough and she silently thanked him for it. She almost didn't notice as one of her long yellowed toenails snapped as she scrunched up her feet. The man laid a hand on her stomach, first on top and then just above the V of her hips. He pressed down ever so slightly but it was enough to make her flinch and sob. He removed his hand from her stomach and laid it on her chest. The woman was aware, then, of how fast her chest was moving in response to her breathing. At that moment, she also noticed that the man was making sounds at her. She strained to hear what he was saying or doing. It sounded like very deep, pronounced breaths. She snapped, realizing that he was showing her what to do. She inhaled slowly, copying him, and exhaled just as he did. It did, remarkably, help with the pain.
Once she calmed, the man stepped back and seemed to watch her. The contractions were flowing together now and the woman could now plainly feel the agitated movement of the child within her. It felt as if the little thing was doing jumping jacks on and off the walls of her insides. Just as a scream rose on her lips once more, another person entered the room. This one came to the bedside as if he owned the place and a rough growl left him. The first man, smaller than the newcomer, shied away, but did not leave the room. The woman gagged and almost vomited on herself at the smell that clung to the large figure. It was somewhere between roadkill and rotten fruit and it was God awful. The soon-to-be mother realized, with horror, who it was. It was the father, the hell spawned sperm donor of the little demon baby now furiously try to escape her womb.
She let loose the scream she holding back, almost blacking out as it tore from her throat like the screeching of tires. The smaller man, the gentler one, stepped forward and placed his hand on her stomach once more. The woman was sure he could feel the somersaults the baby was doing then. She reminded herself of the breathing patterns he showed her and tried desperately to remember them. 'In, out, in,' The words repeated in her head, 'Out, in, ouuUWWWWW!' She slammed her head back as a burning hot pain stabbed through her hips and back. It was coming, no doubt about that. The woman realized, suddenly, that she wasn't ready. She didn't want to be a mother, especially if the father was that sick, twisted, old, smelly, fat, piece of...her thoughts were cut off as another bolt of agony twisted inside her like a lightning storm.
"Please, please, please, please..." She noticed, then, that every exhale was a plead for help, for an end to the pain. She briefly wondered how long she was speaking for. Again, as the child fought its way out of her, unbearable agony was present. The woman licked her chapped lips, wishing for water, and turned her eyes to the gentle man. She tried to ask for something to drink, but found her mind couldn't form anything beyond grunts and groans.
Minutes ticked by and the pain only got worse. It had graduated from agony elementary school to a full blown, scholarship-driven bachelor's in 'oh-my-God-that-fucking-HURTS'. The woman was cursing again and she gripped the leather around her wrists so tightly that she was getting pins and needles in her fingertips. Having given up completely on the breathing, she merely sat and waited for it to be over. She strained, trying to coax the violent little bastard out of her so she could finally rest. In the back of her mind, she wondered if it was a boy or girl that was causing her so much grief. Suddenly, there was a lull in all feeling, one for which she was thankful briefly. Then, an overwhelming amount of pain exploded in between her legs which, in turn, caused her to shriek again. The sound echoed and caused the quiet man to step forward.
Laying a gloved hand on the knee closest to him, he tilted it out so he could observe. Already, the man could see the arm of the child emerging from the woman. She was screaming again, the action tensing her muscles and helping the baby along. A few more moments and it would all be over. The man lost himself in his thoughts briefly, feeling sorry for the woman writhing in agony before him. Another minute passed and the little one's head broke free of his mother. A rather large gushing of blood followed the emergence, coating the baby and the sheets that covered the makeshift bed. The smell of blood and sweat and urine was clinging to the inside of his nose and throat now. He tried his best to ignore it as the sound of the woman wailing rose again.
Bending over the woman's ankle, the man placed his index finger and thumb on either side of the infant's neck. Beginning to pull ever so slightly, he gently aided the birth by sliding the child out of the woman. Once its legs were out and the umbilical cord was visible, the man set the child aside on a pile of blankets. The woman was growling now, the worst of the pain seemingly over, but then the man wrapped his left hand around the cord. For a split second he did nothing, then he tugged fiercely, removing the cord and severing it with a snap.
The woman, panting and relieved, leaned her head back to calm herself. 'It's over, it's over.' She whispered mentally to herself. She couldn't remember a time when she felt so drained. She watched the gentler man cleaning off the baby. Her heart swelled, oddly, at the sight of the little creature. It was her child, her baby. She was overcome with the need to hold it and carry it away from all this.
A sound reached her ears at that moment, a sort of choking noise, and she realized, with horror, that it was coming from the infant. The man was speaking softly now, but it was directed at the child. It sounded like he was saying 'no' over and over again and his free hand was pressing lightly and rubbing against its chest. Offhandedly, she felt like telling him to stop because he was getting blood all over his hands. The strangled sounds continued and now she could clearly see the baby's arms twitching ever so slightly. A long moment dragged by, with everyone in the room utterly silent except for the little child. Then, a stifled exhale left it.
It was quiet.
The smaller man laid the baby down on the sheets and stepped away, looking up to the larger man. A huffing snarl escaped the giant of a man and soon it built into growled breaths. The woman tried to figure out what was going on. Then, it hit her. The child, her child, was dead. Her purpose to the large male had...run its course. She turned to him, fear dropping like a stone in her stomach. All at once, her whole body began to shake as her heart began to gallop in her chest and she felt tears prick her eyes. At the sight of the man approaching the bed, she began to scream again, though this time it was to beg him to stop.
"No, no, no!" She yelled, eyes widening as his face became visible. The horrid deformity, the sweat covered brow and the feral eyes scared her. She knew it was the end and she was afraid, but his fist crashing down on her head silenced all of that.
Once the large man angrily stormed out of the room, the quiet man stepped to the bedside. He let his eyes run over the woman, taking in her features as he couldn't before. The blonde hair was filthy, tussled and full of knots, but he couldn't resist petting away from her forehead. Her skin was pale from lack of sunlight and smudged with dirt and blood. She was shapely, once, and he assumed that she must have been an athlete or dancer. A small hint of sorrow filled his chest at her stillness. First the child, now the mother. He hoped that they could meet up with each other wherever it was that spirits met up after death took them.
He began to move away, thinking to clean up the mess, when a small sound caught his attention. He turned back to the woman and was shocked to see her eyes open. The blue orbs were dull and the pupils overly large, but they were indeed staring at him. He laid two fingers on her neck, unbelieving that she was still alive after the crushing blow the other man had delivered. Under his fingertips, a sluggish beat rose at an erratic rate and a very small breath gusted from her lips. The man slid a hand over her temple and cheek, feeling for breaks that must have resulted from the blow. Sadly, he could feel the broken bones along the side of her face and from the angle her neck was in, he could tell she did not have much time.
The man ran his hand over her hair again, thinking to comfort her as she died. Her eyes still tracked him, but he could see the life leaving them. Another tiny sound escaped her and he had to bend to hear her.
"My...baby."
As she spoke, her eyes drifted to the pile where the still body of the little one lay. The man swallowed hard, not having the heart to tell the dying woman the fate of her child. He tried a few times to speak, but his voice was lost.
"Please...I want...to hold..." Her plea was quiet and it left her gasping for breath. Sighing softly, the man retrieved the small child, wrapping it a sheet before placing under the woman's arm. Her blue eyes stared at its face and tears welled up in them, spilling over her nose and down her cheek. She nuzzled the infant's cold cheek and a short sob escaped her.
"Beautiful...is it a...?" It was a question, directed at him. A sad smile graced his lips and he knelt beside the bed. He wiped the already chilled tears from the mother's face before answering.
"Girl. What's her name?" He asked, wanting the child to at least have a name. The blonde's eyes met his once more, briefly, before dropping back to her baby.
"Her name...Harriet." It was a beautiful name. The man nodded and choked on the emotion that was building in his chest. As he watched, the woman kissed her baby just as a hitch her breathing caused her to shut her eyes. Another hitch came almost instantly and then, the woman went still for the last time.
A moment passed before the man let his head drop. Bringing up a hand, he covered his eyes as they began to sting. He stayed kneeling beside the two, hating himself and hating everything that led up to their deaths. He bit his lip to keep from screaming in his anguish. The man began apologizing to the mother and her child, begging for their forgiveness, but knowing he did not deserve it. Feeling heartsick, the man withdrew his knife from his belt, staring at himself in the gleaming blade. Bracing himself, he stabbed the tip of the knife into his hand. Blood welled up in his palm, mixing with that of the mother and child. The man embraced the pain and swore upon it. He swore that he would find a way to end the unneeded death. He swore to the woman and to little Harriet that he would never let another suffer that way again.
"It will end."
Oh my gosh...that kind of hurt to write. Births are hard to write for me, in general, but this particular one is really gruesome. I'm not sure it came out the way I was planning. That scene in the movie is hard for me to watch so writing it was intense. Please please please let me know what you think. Review, my chickadees, for they feed my starving soul. Feeed me!
TTFN!