Life as a newborn (bearing witness to black market dealings and bodyslams via nurses)

In a bright room, lit by concentrated lights, there was a woman in the center suffering through labor with a team of healthcare professionals attending to her. The mother to be would be considered a beauty; what with her platinum blond hair, crystal blue eyes, porcelain skin, and aristocratic features. Although that wouldn't matter as her face contorted in agony from the pain.

"Keep pushing, I can almost see the crown!" A man urges the birthing woman.

She had been admitted to the hospital at 3 AM and had struggled to push the baby out. It had already been 6 hours since the contractions had started and the doctor in charge was getting worried. "Come on, push!".

"You're almost there!"

"Aaaaaaaaaaaah!"

The woman screamed and wailed from the tearing pain, ready to get this over with. She had known that she was expecting twins, but had never imagined the pain coursing throughout her whole body despite being under anesthetics.

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh!"

The first baby was out and was put in the ready arms of one of the nurses. He was tinted red from all the blood but was perfectly healthy. For some reason he had continued screaming; as if he had been ripped apart from something precious and was desperate to go back.

Shaking his head, the doctor momentarily mused the thought of the newborn being that coherent. "Yeah right," he scoffed to himself "As if that would happen." Now, all that was left was the younger twin.

In a similar fashion, the last newborn had been born and wrapped up in a blue blanket. No one had noticed, too tired after the exhausting labor, two things.

The first peculiar thing was that when the younger of the twins had been born, only then had the older stopped crying.

The other: the younger had never cried after the first wail.

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Well

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That was traumatizing.

Birthing is shit.

It was just like how fanfics described them. Uncomfortable, cold, and wet because of all the fluid and blood.

Currently, I'm in the nursery room at the clinic where my twin and I were born in. It was comfy and warm but I wish we were in the same crib.

I need my daily touch therapy.

Other than that, I had made some observations: Squishy and I are male twins—thank God for that, I don't ever want to experience body dysphoria being in a female body or having a period, I heard from the girls Before that those were hell—Squishy is older, I'm blind as a bat, we're in Russia and we are now officially orphans.

Yes, you heard that right. Mommy dearest had wanted to abort us but found that it was too expensive to do it safely. So, the moment she finished giving birth, she took one look at us, called us the devil's spawn, and then hightailed it out of the clinic before even naming us.

A nurse was peering in on us and murmured "Wow," she murmured in disgust "No wonder she just left. They really are the devil's children." After examining us further, as if we were cattle at an auction, she turned and left the room.

Fucking bitch

I'd give her my best glare if I could, but that would look either ridiculous or too cute on my baby body. As for my failing sight, I would attribute that to my underdeveloped body of a baby.

And for how I knew where and when we were: there was a flag of the Soviet Union smack dab in the middle of the nursery room me and Squishy were in. It goes to show how big the flag was if my poor eyesight could comprehend it.

The Soviet flag wasn't used until the twenties and didn't change back until the early nineties. This gave me seventy years between the two to guess what timeline I'm in.

There's also the fact that the nurse was speaking Russian the whole time.

How I knew?

Thing is, growing up on the mountains was a bit boring so I looked for ways to entertain myself. My grandmother wasn't one for toys so she shoved me into the library we had. Being in the library was a constant thing because it held my only source of entertainment.

There was a vast variety of books to choose from so I simply read them all. There were books about mechanics and books about psychology, others were about how the human body worked and then some about marine life. One of the sections I frequently visited was the language books.

They were pretty interesting to read and I learned a lot from them. Grandmother had actually encouraged me to read and had ordered more books so I had more learning material. It helped a lot whenever there were foreigners visiting the library.

So upon hearing the familiar tones and words, piecing it together took a couple of seconds. I suppose it helps that I had watched a vast amount of international dramas after work.

My grasp of speaking those languages would be described as adequate. I wouldn't know for sure though since I never had a chance to actually have a conversation with a person that goes past telling someone their book was overdue over the phone. They'd probably never notice I was talking to them unless I touched them but I was too unused to doing that so that's pretty much a moot point.

According to the gossip I heard from the nurses, the whole pregnancy was on the down-low so our existence was hush-hush. This meant that we were going to eventually be sent to a nearby orphanage because "The mother had died during childbirth and the father had previously died in an accident".

Honestly

These people are shady as fuck: there were men with bullet wounds casually talking to one of the nurses walking past the room while exchanging wads of cash; some of the staff had guns strapped on themselves; and, at one point I saw a doctor sucker punch a patient unconscious because they ran out of anesthetics. Again, may I remind you, all of this occurred in the hallway in front of a nursery room: as in, the hallways were big enough for them to be treated there.

This was supposed to be a clinic.

The staff referred to it as a clinic.

So why is the hallway the width of a classroom?

I swear, the nurses here have no chill. It's as if there's no such thing as proper conduct. The nurses who passed through the hallways would be talking about who nabbed who's cigarette or would be straight up drinking from flasks they hid on themselves. I'm pretty sure I saw two nurses shacking in the room across the hall.

Exhibitionists.

You know how they are.

I wish they'd at least do it when I'm awake. I'm losing sleep from waking up to their.... coupling.

The sound of giggling fills the air. "Oh Vitya, you naughty boy!" a fake and plastic voice tittered "We can't do that here; leave that for the staff room."

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I'll vomit on her the next time she holds me, I promise to myself, face completely serious. I don't want them anywhere near Squishy and me, who knows what they have.

As the days pass my eyesight got clearer. A bit curious, I observed my brother's face. We were twins, so in a sense I'd be finding out what I looked like too.

Each day when we were to be fed—the food was horrible by the way— the two nurses that held us always made it so that we were faced towards each other. At first, all I could see was a purple blob, which was strange; now, I figured out why.

His hair was purple.

I...I don't remember purple being an option for hair color in the human gene pool.

It took me a moment but I got over it surprisingly quickly. I shouldn't be surprised at this point anymore, seeing as I'm now a baby.

Too tired to process this with my baby mind, I simply roll over and quickly forced myself into a nap.

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Other than the obvious color, he had extremely silky and fine hair; the pastel purple had surprisingly complimented his hair type. Squishy was pale as snow and had a small pointed nose on his delicate face. His dusk colored lips contrasted quite a bit and brought a lot of attention to them.

His eyes were what got me though: they were shaped wide and droopy at the ends. Amethyst orbs seem to bore into my own whenever he sees me. Those vibrant gems seem to have different shades of purple all clustered inside of his eyes; it was mesmerizing .

He was pretty cute for a baby and I could tell he would grow up to be a beautiful adult.

I would definitely need a big stick to keep others away from him.

(Maybe a couple of bombs and bullets too.)

When put together we seemed to always stick to each other like glue and would always be disappointed when we were separated.

Squishy always has a smile for me that I would do anything to protect. I swear, he'll give me a heart attack with how sweet his smiles are. We usually end up in a nap pile with him on top of me. I'm at peace the most when we have our holy nap time. I don't think I'll ever stop nap time in the future and I have an inkling he'll never grow out of it either.

Squishy and I had thankfully been put in the same crib after the staff figured we wouldn't stop being difficult unless with each other, so that was a major upgrade.

I had missed being able to touch him. The separation had hit me hard after being close to him for so long. Although the string between us had assured me of his state of being, it wasn't the same as checking it out for myself.

For now, I shall take compensation for the deprivation of my Squishy's sacred cheeks and squeeze my money's worth out of them.