April 3, 1972
Dear Diary,
Oh my god, that sounds so damn childish. I don't know why I started to keep a diary? I guess I did it out of sheer boredom or maybe partial insanity. Actually neither is the truth. The truth is, I'm pregnant and I thought it would be nice to make a log of what goes through someone's mind while they're pregnant. So far I'm only four weeks into my pregnancy (Morning sickness is a bitch). How it all started was my late hubby discovered that he was sterile due to his tour of duty in Vietnam (He had been a Green Beret), and I happened to want a child at that time. So with the help of the US government, we decided to go in for experimental fertilization treatments (All this happened before his car accident and death). The scientist took one of my eggs and fertilized it with someone's sperm. I'm not sure who this guy is, they refused to tell me his name for confidential reasons, but I was assured he was a good looking and intelligent guy. I just wish I could meet this guy and thank him for what he's done for me. Ever since my husband died I've been so lonely. He was the first person I ever depended on. Most of my life was spent alone in different foster homes and orphanages.
I'd rather not go into any of that right now. I'd much rather focus on my pregnancy. Tomorrow I go to the doctor that has been assigned to handle this experiment. No, I don't mind being used to have a baby. They said I could get the chance to raise my kid, so it's not a bother at all. I'm sorta looking foreword to being called Mommy.
May 15, 1972
Dear Diary,
Wow it's been a while hasn't it! Well, a lot has happened in the month or so I haven't written. First and foremost, I've discovered that I'm going to be a mother eight times over! I'm pregnant with octuplets. I don't even know if there is such a thing! I've looked in all my medical books and the only thing that even comes close is sextuplets. Holy shit! I could become famous. Anyway, they're bringing in a special doctor from England to help with my pregnancy, because there could be a ton of complications. They tell me all this stuff as if I don't know what's going on! Did they forget that I too am in the medical profession!
May 17, 1972
Dear Diary,
I asked one of the nurses here to bring me a baby naming book. I'm not sure if I could come up with eight names on my own. Anyway, when she brought it in l began to read through it and some of the names are really interesting. Like did you know that David meant beloved? I would have thought it would have had some religious meaning attached to it. Also Robert means famous ruler, or was that Roderick... You know something, I think Roderick meant famous ruler. I also looked up a couple of girls names including my own. My name means victorious, which is kinda an appropriate name for me. Anything I do in life always ends up being victorious! How conceited of me.
May 20, 1972
Dear Diary,
I'm so depressed... I... I... I miscarried. I don't know what happened?! I was so careful. I did everything the doctors asked me to! I stayed in bed and I ate right. I don't understand why this is happening to me. But before I make matters worse by getting stressed out, I should tell you that there is a ray of hope. The odd ball doctor from England said he could possibly perform a special type of surgery to save any children that might be left. That's what I'm waiting for right now. To be admitted in the OR. I hope this works! This might be my last chance to have children...
June 5, 1972
Dear Diary,
The operation was a success. I won't be having eight children, I'll only be having three. Too bad, I was really looking foreword to having eight little children to take care of. Not to mention the fame I would have achieved for having eight at once! But I guess it's better then having none at all.
June 15, 1972
Dear Diary,
Today is the best that I've felt since the miscarriage incident! I actually got up and walked outside the military hospital for awhile, that is until that weirdo doctor from England yelled at me to come inside. It gets so boring sitting inside doing nothing all day and besides, I was reading in my pregnancy booklet, that pregnant women need to get some exercise, but instead of losing my temper and causing a scene, I obeyed his orders and came inside. What a prick!
June 30, 1972
Dear Diary,
I can feel my children kicking me! They do it all the time. Sometimes when I'm trying to sleep they'll kick me. I can see that they'll be difficult children to raise. What else is new? Oh God, that creepy ass British doctor! He really frightens me. The greedy way he stares at my big pregnant belly... I swear, he is totally out of his mind. If I see that he's coming into my room alone, I'll dash off into the bathroom, Lock the door, and take a long bath. Once I had to stay in the bathtub for an hour and a half waiting for him to leave. What the hell is up with that guy?!
July 11, 1972
Dear Diary,
I just came back from another check up. They did another ultra sound today, which is really a very cool instrument (all except for that gooey and might I add cold gel they put on my stomach), I found out that I'll be having three boys...
August 6, 1972
Dear Diary,
It's been some time since I've last written. Let's see, I am about five and a half months pregnant. The doctors think I should be due in November or so. Actually they say I should be due on November 26th. Which would mean that my children should be... Scorpio's... No, they should be Sagittarius's. That should work. Momma is a Libra, so we should all get along nicely. I still haven't thought up names for my three boys yet... I case I haven't told you, I'm having all boys. I've known since July that I was going to have all boys, I think I did mention it? In any case, I still haven't thought up names for them yet. But I just have to name one after my husband, but I never really liked his name. I always thought it never suited him. Well, I still have some time to think it over, after all it is only August. I'm not due for another three months yet.
September 18, 1972
Dear Diary,
This is the last week I'll be in this maternity ward. The doctors all want me moved to a special maternity ward where they can perform the delivery of my children, in what they term a less hostile environment. I really don't wanna leave this ward. It's so nice here. I have my own private room and a special set of nurses that have been assigned to be with me and who know that I am apart of this special experimental fertilization program. I don't know, maybe I'm a bit apprehensive because I'll be due soon.
On the plus side, the nurses that were assigned to look after me, are throwing me a baby shower. I never thought I would ever have one of those! Especially since I have no family or real friends. But I guess I do, since they are throwing this party for me. They're having it late at night when all the doctors are asleep. I'm not really supposed to have too much stimulation, since this is a high risk pregnancy, but they nurses thought what the hell, since I'll be leaving on Monday, I'd mine as well have some fond memories of my pregnancy.
September 29, 1972
Dear Diary,
This new maternity ward is like something out of a science fiction movie. Everything is so cold and metallic looking, and some of the doctors run around in big space suit looking outfits. This whole place gives me the creeps. How in the hell do they expect me to get comfortable in this place?! I do have to deliver children in this glorified hell hole, how can they expect me to deliver health babies in a subzero environment like this?! I thought the whole idea for moving me out of the old maternity ward and into this one, was to put me in a "less hostile" environment?
October 3, 1972
Dear Diary,
I don't like this place one bit. The doctors that come to see me, including that creepy British doctor, all come in speaking in French when they address one another (I knew I should have taken French when I joined the army). What in the hell is Les Enfant Terrible?! And why when they speak about it do they all come into my room?! Was this the experiment that I volunteered for? Well, whatever it is, I can't be concerned with it now. I'll be due in a month or so, the last thing I need is to get stressed out this close to my due date.
October 29, 1972
Dear Diary,
Stranger and stranger. The closer to my due date and the more frequently that scary ass British doctor visits my room. It's bad enough that I'm all by myself, and I'm seriously depressed from being in this spooky environment, but then to be harassed almost every hour by that British nut case... It's just too much to bear!
November 1, 1972
Dear Diary,
When I was lying in bed this morning I heard that creepy British doctor come in with another doctor. They were both talking about a man named Big Boss and this Les Enfant Terrible project. I couldn't make out the entire conversation, because they were whispering so low and they were speaking in French. But I know I've heard that name Big Boss before, but I'm not sure where or when. I think I heard it from my husband when he came home from Vietnam, but I'm still not sure. One thing is certain though, I have to get to the bottom of this and soon.
November 3, 1972
Dear Diary,
I think something is wrong with this entire experiment! I finally got to be alone with the doctor who originally informed me of this experimental fertilization project. I asked him, what is Les Enfant Terrible. He assured me that he didn't know, but he would try to find out. I don't believe him at all, I can see in his eyes that he's lying. If he was the one who set me up with the project to begin with, he should know all the information about it. This whole set up is just rubbing me the wrong way. And worse, I'm due in about three weeks. I wish I could have just a little more time to find out what was going on around here.
November 10, 1972
Dear Diary,
I've been trying to keep myself clam, but it really hasn't been easy. That British doctor comes in my room every thirty minuets or so asking if I've felt any contractions yet. When I say no, or tell him to fuck off and die he just goes away and comes back thirty minuets later with the same stupid question. He seems like he's waiting for something and he can't wait to get his grubby little hands on it. I asked my real doctor was he going to be in the delivery room with us and he said yes. So I asked him did that guy have to be the one to catch the boys, and he said that catching the boys was his (My doctors) job. That was a relief to know. I also asked the doctor what was up with this Les Enfant Terrible project that I kept hearing the other doctors speak so much about. He said it was another project some of the other doctors were working on, and it had nothing to do with me and my pregnancy. He must think I was born yesterday. I can still tell he's lying to me, but I can't worry about this too much. Lately, I've been so tired. I know that happens late in pregnancy, but it makes it hard to try and discover what the hell is going on if you're too tired to care.
November 24, 1972
Dear Diary,
I've been so exhausted lately. All I can do is wake up, eat, go to the bathroom, and go back to sleep. All the doctors come in every half hour or so and ask how am I feeling? I tell them I feel fine and they leave me alone. Even that creepy British doctor doesn't bother me, which is completely surprising! One would think he would have taken up residence in my room since I'm so close to the due date. I guess they are taking the wait and see method. Oh, I'm so tired, even though I just woke up from a nap. I guess I'll go back to sleep...
November 26, 1972
Dear Diary,
Right on schedule. My contractions started about an hour ago and they're about ten minuets apart. I've been reluctant to tell any of the other doctors, because I don't want that creepy British doctor running in here attempting to deliver these children on his own. I wanna wait until my doctor comes in, but I don't know if I can hold off screaming for much longer.
December 16, 1972
Dear Diary,
I'm sorry I haven't written to you in a while. I've been in a coma. I didn't know myself until last week when I woke up in my old maternity ward. One of the nurses told me that I had serious complications in child labor and I almost died. When I asked what happened to my sons I was told that the first two died, but one is still alive. I begged to go see the other two, but they said that they had already performed the funeral and were already buried. So, I went to go see my other son, who I named David, which means Beloved. When I saw his tiny little hazel colored eyes stare up at me... I knew he was my beloved child.
December 24, 1972
Dear Diary,
Christmas eve. Usually this is the worst time for me. I've hated Christmas ever since I was a child. Mainly because I had no family to spend it with, but last year I had my husband and this year I have David. We're both still in the hospital. He's too tiny to take out of the incubator and I'm to sick to return to my house. I sent one of the nicer nurses here in the sick ward out to get David a special present for his very first Christmas present and when she returned she had brought back a adorable blanket with both his name and my name embroidered in the top right hand corner. At first I wasn't thrilled about that kind of gift for him, but I kinda like this gift now.
December 29, 1972
Dear Diary,
I'm getting worse. And even scarier is now I'm starting to remember some of what happened to me the day I gave birth to David. I remember struggling against all those doctors, because I wanted to be awake during the delivery, but the doctors had tied me to the bed and placed a gas mask over my face, that's when I lost consciousness. But that's not all I can remember. I remember waking up for a brief moment after the delivery. I could hear that creepy British doctor say that he was taking the middle child with him and the other doctors agreed. I don't know? Maybe I'm just extremely grief stricken over the death of my other two sons and I'm inventing stories to make myself think they're still alive? But I do, however, remember struggling with all those doctors. But why would they gas me if I wanted to be awake for the delivery?
January 1, 1973
Dear Diary,
It's a new year and both David and I are still in the hospital. He's getting bigger and stronger everyday, but as for myself... Anyway, last night something odd happened. I left my room last night to go visit David (Oh, I forgot to mention, at my request, I was placed back in the old maternity ward so I could be closer to my son.), but when I went to the nursery were he was, there were two men standing over his crib. I had no idea who these to characters were. I'd never seen either of them before. The one guy was skinny as a rake, he was rather short and undistinguished looking, he couldn't have been any older than twenty or so, but the other man was tall, kinda handsome (Especially for an older gentleman), he had a beard and a mustache, light brown hair and an eye patch over his left eye. He was really sexy for an older guy. He must have been another doctor coming to examine my son. He could examine me anytime...
January 12, 1973
Dear Diary,
David was finally able to come out of the incubators today! I was so happy to hold him in my arms for the first time! The doctors want him to stay in the hospital for a little while longer, just to make sure that he'll be completely healthy. I had no objections to that, especially since I'll be in the hospital for a long time myself. No, don't appear to be getting any better, so I'm preparing for the worst.
January 23, 1973
Dear Diary,
David has been placed in my room now that it had been determined that what is wrong with me is not contagious to him. Apparently after the birth of my sons I was given an emergency hysterectomy. Not only that but it was a botched hysterectomy. Those stupid BASTARDS! Why would they do this to me?! It doesn't make any sense at all. I have to find my old doctor and ask him just what the hell happened in that delivery room?! All this time I've been losing blood and getting stick, was because they took my uterus and couldn't even do that properly! Something strange is going on, and I will find out what it is! I can't and won't die until I know the truth!
January 27, 1973
Dear Diary,
Remember a while ago, I told you about a strange older doctor I saw standing over David's crib on new year's eve? Well, he came back to the hospital where I was. This time he came to my room. I don't know what he was doing there or who let him in, but all he did was come to see David. Let me explain further.
Last night, I was having another one of my restless nights, when I heard my door open and a nurse whisper softly to him, "Try not to disturb the mother". So I pretended like I was asleep. So the guy walked over to David's crib and he just stood there silently, then he walked over to my bed and stared at me. I could hear him whisper to himself, "He looks just like you.". Then he turned and walked out the door. Who's is this man and why does he have such a fixation with my son?
January 31, 1973
Dear Diary,
I'm back from surgery. This surgery was to try and correct the damage that those other doctors had done to me. I'm praying that this operation is a success. I mean, I'll never be able to have anymore children, but at least I'll be able to spend the rest of my life with my cute and might I add smart little boy. I can see now that Momma's 180 IQ level has already rubbed off on my beloved son. For being born prematurely and being the "runt" of the group, he come on fast. He already kinda knows how to roll over. Which is extremely early for his age, which is about, three and a half months. But I won't push him over his limits. Him turning over on his own might have been an accident, all be it, a good accident.
February 15, 1973
Dear Diary,
He appeared again. That guy! But this time I caught him. I was coming out of the bathroom when I saw him once again standing over David's crib.
"Who are you and what the hell do you want with my son!?" I asked.
He turned and just stared at me a moment, then he answered, "You're Toby's wife, the doctor."
How could he have known my husband, unless he was a solider with him in Vietnam?
"So it was you they choose?" He said. "Wise choice. Your pretty, intelligent, a solider, and you have no past. It's almost too much of a cliché."
"How the hell do you know so much about me?!" I said trying not to wake David. "And my husband?"
"I'm not the man you should ask." He responded cryptically.
"The hell if you're not."
"Could I make a suggestion to you?" He asked. "I would advise that you go and talk to Dr. Franklin before they finish killing him off."
Then he turned and walked out of the door. I wanted to go and run after him to ask him what all this was about, but I'm still not fully recovered from the surgery. But what could he have meant when he said, "Before they finish killing off Dr. Franklin."?
February 17, 1973
Dear Diary,
As unwell as I felt today, I went out to see Dr. Franklin. At first I couldn't get past security, but then I remembered that I still have my doctor's badge which was good at any security level. When I entered his room I saw that he was in worse shape then I was in. He was so pale and pasty. He was also much thinner then I remembered him. This guy was dying (you could smell the death in the air) and he looked as if he was going to go soon.
When he saw that it was me he looked happy. I asked what the hell happened to him and he said, that he was sick from the poison they were sneaking into his asthma medicine, he also said he probably wasn't going to finish out the week. But what he did tell me was worse than that.
Diary, what I am about the reveal now is of the utmost secrecy! And I pray that David never finds out what I now know.
My pregnancy, the "miscarriage", the cover up about the death of the other two children, the reason why I was never informed about who the sperm donor was, and even my botched hysterectomy, all of it was apart of a bigger conspiracy called, Les Enfant Terrible or the Terrible Children Project. Basically, they took the sperm cell of a man called Big Boss (I think that's the man that's been hanging around David's crib), supposedly the strongest solider in the world and fertilized it with my egg. Then using some type of cloning method they let it divide into eight cloned babies, but to encourage strong fetal growth they aborted the other five babies and let three remain. What they wanted to do was artificially create the ultimate solider using genetics to do it!
So I asked him, where are my other two children? He said that the creepy British doctor, you know, the one that always would stare at my stomach greedily, he took the second born child, but he said he wasn't sure what happened to the first child. The decision to take him was made long before I gave birth, in fact he wasn't the doctor that delivered that child. So I asked what about David? He said that no matter what I was promised, David was going to become property of the government, just like the other two. His fate was predetermined before the day he was born. Then I asked him what was going to happen to me? He said that I was intentionally given a hysterectomy to prevent anyone else using the same (And I quote) "perfect test subject". He said that the hysterectomy was intentionally botched in order to kill me before I had a chance to bond with David, that way they could just take him and begin training him to be the perfect solider.
I couldn't bear to hear anymore. So I got up to leave, but before I left the doctor apologized and begged me for his forgiveness. I couldn't do it... I can't forgive a man who has ruined not only my life, but the future lives of three innocent children. So I told him what I thought of him and this entire string of lies. I said to him, "I hope you burn in hell for all eternity!"
February 28, 1973
Dear Diary,
I'm back from the doctors... Not surprisingly, the operation to correct the botched hysterectomy was a complete failure. So, it is inevitable. I'm going to die so the government can take my son. The doctor says that I have about a month or less to live. It's not fair!!!!! All my life all I've ever wanted was a family and some stability, but I never achieved it!!! I never wanted any child of mine to have to grow up living the same type of lonely nomadic life that I've had. And now, it seems that my little ones will indeed grow up having a sad chaotic life.
I'll never get to see David go up, go on his first date, get married... Or come to think of it, I'll never hear his first word, watch him cut is first tooth... Those bastards!!! I wish there was a way to make them all pay for what they have done!!!
March 3, 1973
Dear Diary,
I... I'm slowly dying. Yesterday, I was in my hospital room trying pick up David and I... I was just too weak to do it. I'm so pale from all the blood loss, and I'm so thin, 'cause I just haven't had the strength or desire to eat. They have me hooked up to an IV, but usually I end up taking it out. Nothing in this world is going to help me live, not even the antibiotics that the doctor keeps giving me (That's what's kept me alive this long). Poor David. He looks at me with those big hazel eyes he has, and he knows something's wrong with Mamma. It seems like he's almost afraid to go near me. I... I can't say that I don't blame him. I do look like the walking specter of death...
March 17, 1973
Dear Diary,
This is the end... I've held out for as long as possible, but... It's all over for me now. I don't know what will become of... David, but I do hope... He never discovers what I know. He's no "terrible child", he can become anything he wants.... Whoever reads this, please tell david... I... Love hi.......