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The Blood of the Innocent

But I wasn't watching but instead was staring in revulsion at the tiny body, watched the life-blood pulsing through the little girl's veins, watched as her tiny hand moved slightly, her fingers curled than stretched. I heard her heart beat pick up speed-fluttering like a bird's fragile wings. She was beginning to panic. WARNING: THIS CONTAINS SOME GRAPHIC CONTENT AND MAY BE DISTURBING TO SOME VIEWERS.

Once again--this may be disturbing ti sine viewers so please proceed with caution. If you don't like it--tell me why and i counter you

1. The Blood of the Innocent

Rating 5/5   Word Count 2203   Review this Chapter

Hilter had killed 6,000,000 Jews and we call it mass genocide.

We, in America alone, have killed over 60,000,000,000 babies and we call it human rights.

Something is definitely wrong here.

And the numbers keep rising.


I was silent, unblinking, standing in the middle of the sitting room for the medical staff of Little Forks Hospital. I could hear the bubbling of the coffee pot in the middle of a fresh brew and the strong smell of the liquid evaded my nose. I could also detect the scent of baked oatmeal cookies-a day old and poorly made. No one had touched them. I waited till a young nurse with white-blond hair slammed her locker shut and left the room before I spoke again.

"You need what?" I asked, watching the other doctor intently. He didn't even look up from his file work.

"I need your assistance for a quick procedure-nothing major...no one else is available and I need another doctor in the room as a witness." He was a middle-aged man, with a severe face and sharp eyes. I knew him as chief of the OB/GYN department.

"My shift ends in thirty minutes," I countered slowly.

The man waved his hand in my direction; a rude, dismissive gesture. "It only takes a few minutes-we'll barely brush the end of you shift." He paused. "I need a witness. All you have to do is stand there, Dr. Cullen."

I nodded then. I had never seen this procedure before and wasn't sure that I even wanted to see it. But I followed Dr. Grey down the linoleum hallway, to room 266.

The room was brightly lit and starkly white-like any other hospital room. But to my eyes this room seemed to be more severe than the others. More... ominous ...than the others. A woman in her mid twenties lay on the only hospital bed, her stomach swollen beneath the sheet. She looked at me with wide hazel eyes, her pale face lined with nervous tension, her fists clenched in what appeared to be extreme anxiety. I was about to offer her some comfort but Dr. Grey spoke before I could.

"Everything is going to be fine, Mrs. Paige. I'll be numbing you with a light anesthetic. You'll barely feel a thing." His voice was assuring and gently. I watched the young woman nod but I could see that she wasn't exactly buying it. The nurse standing next to her patted her hand gently. Soothingly. I looked away from the woman and focused on the other doctor; he fiddled with a large machine he had wheeled to the foot of the bed along with a tray of stainless steel tools. A feeling of uneasiness swept over me and I clenched my cell phone in my pocket.

I felt it crack suddenly and I jerked my hands from my pocket.

Grey glanced up at the nurse. "Did you break her water?'

The nurse glanced up at the wall clock. "Fifteen minutes ago, sir." She answered.

"Good," he murmured to himself. Then looked up at me. "You've ever done this before, Dr. Cullen?"

"No I haven't, actually." I answered, feeling my stomach clench once more in morbid anticipation. A voice within me said that I didn't want to witness this and a gently hum of alarm bells began to go off in my head. The voice whispered in the back of my skull, this isn't right.

"I'll explain the procedure as we go along," Dr. Grey offered as he snapped on a pair of gloves. I knew I hadn't answered but he continued on anyway.

"First, you want to induce the dilation and numb the patient from the waist down but not too much. She'll still be able to feel-it just make her more relaxed when I pull the fetus out." The doctor gently spread the woman's legs.

I glanced at Mrs. Paige and realized that she didn't look that much relaxed at all. She glared unseeingly at the ceiling, her fist clenched, her heart beat rapid to my ears. She glared unseeingly at the ceiling, refusing to look down.

"Then you want to carefully insert the pliers into the vagina and up into the womb. The baby should be close to the cervix and the foot is easily found. Then, pull it carefully-you don't want to tear the uterus."

I watched the pliers reappear with wide eyes-within its mouth a tiny, white foot appeared, glistening with blood and fluid. What did he say about tearing the uterus? About making the woman comfortable? What about the baby within?

"When the torso becomes fully extracted, you want to stop pulling which will avertedly leave the head still inside."

Bit by grotesque bit the body slid out-first the other foot than the stomach with the rubbery umbilical cord protruding from its middle in bluish-green, pumping with blood.

The alarm bells grew shrilly louder; the twisted feeling in my gut grew worse. Behind my back, my hands curled into tight fists. The young woman grew paler and a sheen of sweat made her face shine. A wave of pity hit me, knowing that she too was listening to the procedure and I could see the horror filling her eyes.

"I know the procedure," I snapped suddenly, lying in a biting voice that made Dr. Grey hesitate. Then he shrugged.

"Fine." He said.

He tossed the pliers back onto the tray and grabbed a probe. But I wasn't watching but instead was staring in revulsion at the tiny body, watched the life-blood pulsing through the little girl's veins, watched as her tiny hand moved slightly, her fingers curled than stretched. I heard her heart beat pick up speed-fluttering like a bird's fragile wings. She was beginning to panic.

"Please just stop," I wanted to demand, to stop this atrocity. But I didn't. I couldn't. It was what the patient wanted.

Dr. Grey searched with his finger for the base of the skull, turning the baby's body slightly so that he could reach it. My breathing quickened and I could feel the venom flooding my throat. The air was thick with silence, and I could sense the rise of tension from the mother, the nurse, and myself.

He drove the probe in quickly, fluidly, and I flinched at the watery crunch that followed, that only I could hear. The little girl jerked violently, her limbs jolted and her legs kicked out. The gruesome sight sent disgust and anguish flooding my body; my eyes remained fixated as the tiny fingers groped the air what could have only been terror and pain. I wanted to reach out and take that tiny hand, to let her know that everything was okay.

He grabbed the pliers again and I watched as he stretched the wound on the back of the baby's skull, widening it to gain access for the vacuum.

The woman flinched this time, her lip trembling as the noisy sound of the suction tube grated through the silence in a perverse and sinister way. The baby jerked again-this time less noticeable, a jerk that was so much weaker than before. She was dying.

I tear my eyes from her and to the gray-pink matter flying into the clear suction tube and into the sack that was quickly filling with bloody fluid-thick and clumped into pieces.

I could almost hear the baby's silent screams for help.

But I couldn't do anything.

"You're okay sweetie," the man murmured to the trembling woman. "It's all done-see?"

Dr. Grey had no emotion on his face when he flipped over the vacuum. His face almost looked serene as the pulled the now lifeless baby out with a slight gush of blood and fluid.

"Cut the cord, Joy," he ordered in a near croon to the nurse who promptly did so. "Did you bring the bag?"

"No sir."

I watched the child, the infant in his arm. Her small arm swung like a pendulum, the fingers now limp, no longer groping in panic. Dr. Grey held the tiny soul callously and her head hung awkwardly to one side. The blood from her body began to drip onto the floor, splattering garishly on the white tile, creating a macabre pattern. Red on white.

Anguish and rage ripped through me like burning acid, creating one confusing emotion that nearly left me staggering. "Give her to me." I speak raggedly, my voice demanding.

"Her?" the woman on the bed echoed bleakly. "It's a girl?"

Dr. Grey shook his head quickly, his smile warm. "No, honey, it's just a fetus, just a ball of tissue."

That's not true!! I inwardly screamed.

"Give the baby to me-I'll take care of her." I still didn't comprehend what I was saying. I was only going by instinct-an instinct that was quickly going feral.

I ignored that confused looks from the doctor and the nurse and the shocked blinks of the was-to-be-mother.

The tiny girl was barely a feather in my arms, lifeless, her perfect lips and button nose perfectly angelic despite the blood and fluid. I could already see the tinge of red in her hair and I guessed her eyes would have been green or blue. Her fingers were long-promising a future musician. Piano? Guitar? Maybe violin?

I would never know now.

She only had to month to go before being delivered. She could have survived outside the wound. She was healthy and her heart beat had been strong. There was nothing wrong with her. She was perfect in every way.

I find myself beginning to breathe fast and my feet carried me sharply from the room and down the hall.

"Dr. Cullen?" I heard Grey shouting but I took no heed but walked faster.

"Dr. Cullen?" The elderly nurse that worked in the ER with me was jogging to match pace with me. "Are you all right? What happened?"

"What does it look like?" I snapped, my voice dripping with animosity and grief. She froze and I left her to stare after me.

Weren't doctors supposed to prevent this from happening? Didn't it seem oxymoronic for a doctor to be the cause of this? Wasn't a mother supposed to love and nurture her children? Not sentence them to death?

Had could something so innocent and helpless be murdered in such a savage and barbaric way?

I would give the angel girl a proper burial. One that she deserved. A burial that was too premature for a life that had barely begun to live. She never had a chance.

I ran, with the stench of death and the cooling of dying skin in my arms. The blood and fluid had dried onto my shirt. I would never wear these clothes again.

There was a clearing, a place of seemingly tranquil silence, laced with pastel flowers of every color and size. The smell of the rustic wood and the freshness of rain filled danced upon the scent of the flowers and the perfume was of heaven made as though God himself had woven it together with hands of purity.

I buried the little girl between the wild daffodils and lavender flowers and found a smooth stone.

What should her name be? She needed a name.

Zoe. I decided. For it meant life.

I left the tomb stone at that.

Just then the golden rays of sunlight broke through the shelter of trees, shattering off my skin, creating a golden halo around the tomb stone, filling the clearing with emerald light. Despite the horror, it was beautiful. Just beautiful.

I sank to my knees like a man run through with a sword. And I wept for all the children whose screams had been silenced.


"May I ask what possessed you, Dr. Cullen?" the angry voice made me stiffen.

Breathe, Carlisle. I inwardly coached. Just breathe.

I turned slowly to face Dr. Grey and realized I towered over him and I found some satisfaction in that. My eyes darkened and narrowed into a menacing glare. I wasn't shy of scaring this man. In fact, I hoped I had done just that. I watched with gratification as the man shrank back in fear, his once arrogant demeanor shattered.

My voice was cold and calculating. "Excuse me, Dr. Grey, but I am a doctor. I've committed utmost self to saving people's lives, not in savagely sucking it out of them with a vacuum." I drew in an uneven breath. "You consider yourself a doctor? I hardly see you as a man. And one day, you will stand before God and you will realize what you have done. Have can live with some much innocent blood on your hands?"

I pushed past him roughly, wanting to say more but knowing that I shouldn't. The hostility I felt continued to wage a battle within me and I struggled with my emotions. Never again will I stand aside and watch that happen.

My fingers snapped the metal clipboard I had been holding in half.

I am a doctor. Not a murderer.

And it was my turn to do something about it.

It's your turn. Say no to abortion. Save a life.

For Jesus said, "let the little children come to me for there is a place in heaven for such as these."

More than three hundred babies were aborted while you read this.

Every twenty seconds a innocent life is destroyed.

What are going to do about it?