A CHILD MADE TO ORDER: gripping psychological suspense

by Piotr Ryczko

  Yet, right now, everything escaped her. Despite no drugs being used during the procedure, she felt her mind was eroded, barren of thoughts. Her emotions were blunted. Whatever happened back there, one thing was sure, something broke. Inside her.

  Despite the numbness that seemed intent on consuming her, she stared at her necklace, and remembered something crucial.

  She had done all of this for a reason.

  Soon she would find Marianne and get her home. Not only that, but she would get the women out of this place. Lead them to someplace better. She had no doubt it would all be worth it.

  And as her consciousness began to slip away, her lips repeated the words. Again and again.

  It would all be worth it.

  Chapter 37

  Late evening

  There was some part of her that was still aware, even though she was sleeping deeply. This part didn’t cling onto the suffering. Maybe because it wasn’t her. In this place, this other self couldn’t quite comprehend why Viola struggled so much; what all the drama was about. Yet there was no judgement in her observation. Instead, an all-encompassing warmth radiated from her towards Viola. And she called out to Viola, to burst open that gaping hole in her chest. Open her heart and fill her with the only thing that would heal – an endless ocean of silence. Something that had always accompanied her, in her heart, but which she had buried so deep, and tried so hard to forget.

  When she finally woke up, the vague memory of Her, the one that was filled with the permeating silence, became a distant speck in her consciousness.

  Only to be replaced by a cellular camera lens aimed straight at her. And behind the camera was a woman Viola thought she would never see again.

  Marianne.

  * * *

  Viola rubbed her weary eyes again, her mind still adjusting to who sat in front of her.

  She had never met Marianne, never seen her in real life.

  But here was a young woman, with unusually self-assured body language, a demanding gaze, one maybe even bordering on conceit. She was nothing like what Viola remembered. Or imagined.

  Or maybe Viola just assumed way too much? Maybe she had created the perfect artifice.

  Viola was about to speak when some movement from behind Marianne’s bed caught her attention. Was there someone else behind Marianne? Viola wanted to get up from her bed but was interrupted by the Blogger’s hands which shoved her cell phone camera right in front of Viola’s eyes.

  “Get that thing out of my face,” Viola said.

  “Don’t you see? I am here to get you out.” She repeated herself, and hoped the words would in some way realign Marianne’s behaviour.

  “Me? Out? You kidding me?” Marianne chuckled back at Viola. And her face strained with impatience. Marianne shut off her phone and leaned across the bed.

  “Do you still not get it? I need you to do the story,” Marianne said.

  “A story? There is no story here,” Viola protested and hoped she made her point succinct enough so they wouldn’t waste more time on this.

  “Not a story. The story. About me and my future children.” Her eyes bored into Viola.

  “What are you talking about? What children?”

  Marianne scoffed at Viola, swivelled around on the bed, reached down and dumped a small child onto her bed.

  Right this moment, everything clicked into place. Before her was the boy that she had endlessly scrutinised in the video snippet on Marianne’s blog.

  Tobias.

  Before she could adjust to this fact, Marianne jerked him awake despite his moans of protest.

  “Isn’t he lovely?” Marianne twisted the boy’s head like a race-horse to present his best profile. The boy groaned at the abuse but Marianne immediately proceeded to hush him down. When he refused, she disregarded him and faced Viola again. “And my soon-to-be wonder. It’s official now! My latest IVF cycle is successful and Helen will become a reality!” The blogger pointed to her currently flat stomach, then flashed Viola with her grin again.

  “I don’t get it. Why would you do this? Risk these children’s lives? And what about the recording on your blog? And the photos taken in the kindergarten? Is that blackmail?” Viola demanded.

  “Blackmail? Silly! That’s motivation. Just in case you didn’t see it my way. And from the looks of it, you have some problems adjusting to my perspective, huh?” The blogger’s stare shifted, jerked around the room, agitated that Viola didn’t share her enthusiasm.

  “You can’t be serious?”

  “Honey, I am damned serious. I’ve gone through too much pain not to get ahead in life. There are girls here who’ve already had their CRISPR kids. But if you ask me, they are too stupid to see the obvious, the opportunity this represents. So it is only my god given right to be the first one to go public with this. Huh! Right? That’s not a story? That’s history, baby! Me and my little ones.”

  Viola’s mind ground to silence upon hearing the words. Somehow she had hoped they would leave room for ambivalence, another interpretation. Something that would give her hope. Anything. Any reason would be a good reason.

  But no matter how she turned Marianne’s words in her head, there was no doubt about Marianne’s motivation.

  And when Viola laid her eyes on the blogger again, it was all too obvious.

  Marianne’s eyes demanded Viola go along with her. And when they were met with zero response, the young woman’s face twisted in anger.

  “Don’t you see? You are exactly who I needed. From the very beginning.” Marianne spat out the words, losing her remaining patience with Viola.

  “From the beginning? You staged this whole thing? Didn’t you? The comment, the video? Those pictures? A set up?” Viola uttered the words half-hoping she was wrong.

  Marianne only shrugged her shoulders, her innocent gaze neither denying nor accepting the accusation.

  “Uh-huh... Maybe not too bright, but from the best paper, right?” Viola heard Marianne mutter.

  What had she done for this girl? It wasn’t just some sacrifice. She crucified her job, her relationships, everything that she believed in. For what? For this girl?

  “Do you have any idea what they will have to go through in their life if you turn this into a story?” Viola struggled to grab onto something, to look for some shred of humanity in Marianne’s actions. Maybe a shot in the dark, but at this point, one last appeal had to be made.

  But Marianne brushed Viola off, grabbed her Tobias and squeezed him towards herself. Then aimed the cam at her own stomach and him.

  “I know damned well what they will go through.” She smirked as she made a gesture with her cam. And soon enough, she started recording yet another chapter in her story.

  “They will be my small, shining starlets.”

  Chapter 38

  Night

  She couldn’t recollect how she got here. Wherever here was. But as she jerked her head around, she realised she was in a toilet, in one of the cubicles. Her bones ached all over; stiff and bruised. She couldn’t recollect how long she had been here.

  Had she been searching for someone?

  She would have been just as happy with staying there, if not for a distant sound. Her eyes jarred towards the thumping resonance. And only now did she understand, it was someone knocking on the door to her cubicle.

  She barely managed to get up to her feet, and as she unhinged the door from its lock, she was greeted by Rene.

  Despite all the fuzziness clouding her head, Viola remembered the woman, an outcast from the northern part of Norway. This recollection brought an inner glow to Viola.

  Rene’s face turned bleak, as the woman’s eyes ran up and down Viola’s body. Viola didn’t quite understand what the fuss was about; after all, she felt a little shaky, but otherwise was just fine.

  But when Rene realised Viola didn’t comprehend what was going on, the woman moved away from the mirror behind her.

  A glimpse is all it took. In the reflection stood a woman whom Viola d
idn’t recognise. Surely this wasn’t her. This wretched-looking thing in the mirror had smeared and dried mascara across her face. It was a bleak phantom, ready to hunt the halls of some mad Luna Park. She rubbed at her eyes, but the apparition still stood and eyed her with a quizzical expression.

  Then Viola’s eyes ran to her fingers, and she realised she had blood caked under her nails. As if she had tried to dig at the floor tiles, and shredded her nails and skin to pieces.

  Maybe this sight was sufficient, maybe it grounded her just enough, since suddenly, everything flashed back into her mind, reigniting her neurones, putting all the missing pieces back into place.

  She remembered how she had scuttled in here after Marianne’s revelation. She recollected now that she had torn her fingers up against the tiled floor until her nails bled. And as she emptied out her aggression, she had lost track of time, she forgot where she had been, or what had happened.

  If her mind had stayed long enough in that place called the past, she was bound to melt down, beyond any recovery.

  And she almost had.

  * * *

  Rene jumped closer to Viola, and with all the nurturing of a distraught mother, supported Viola’s mangled body.

  “Oh my god, hon. Come. Come now. Only your body acting crazy after those damned IVF hormones,” Rene whispered and slid Viola down onto the floor.

  As if by a sudden realisation of where Viola was, her body lost all strength, and gave into Rene’s hands, then folded onto the woman’s knees. This got even more sympathy from Rene, who began to caress Viola gently.

  Despite that this was the last thing Viola wanted at this moment, her senses immediately gave into this tenderness. She couldn’t recollect what it was like to be touched, at least not in this way. Even if Ronny soothed her, this was something else. It wasn’t the intimacy of a lover, or a man’s hand, but a mother’s delicate strokes barely touching her child’s forehead. This sensation spread through her whole body. And all of sudden, Viola’s body quivered with a radiant energy. A surge of warmth rushed into her heart.

  Peace.

  As she felt Rene’s nurturing fingers, she couldn’t help remembering her Markus. How many times he had lain in her lap, and although he was way too uninhibited, had just way too much vibrancy in his body, she still savoured those few short moments when he was tired enough to be caressed. When he just snuggled into her hands, and made the sweetest purring sounds, something that lulled her heart into a wholeness.

  But as Viola’s eyes moved back to Rene’s face, her mind was drawn back to the here and now. She glanced into her eyes, and realised that maybe not everything was lost. Maybe this woman might be able to help her. If Viola couldn’t do anything about Marianne and get her home, maybe Rene could convince her.

  This woman would surely see that Marianne’s reckless actions were about to rip apart everything she and the others had fought for. And Viola felt as if she finally found a way out of this seemingly impossible situation. With the help of Rene.

  This was her last chance; yet this time, she sensed she would succeed. She would make things right, because she understood why she fought so hard.

  It wasn’t only for those women’s children. If she could rectify one thing in this screwed up world, it would be that Markus didn’t die in vain. It would be for the moments when he had placed his sweet face in her lap.

  Late night

  “Rene! I need your help. Please.” Viola’s intuition rang with a reinvigorated zeal. She raised herself up on her arms and locked gazes with the woman.

  “Marianne intends to go public about this place. About everything.”

  “So? Is that a problem?” Rene shrugged her shoulders and returned Viola’s gaze.

  “Don’t you see what you are risking? Your child, the other children, police – they will take the children from you!” Viola’s mind scrambled in search of the reason why she wasn’t reaching Rene.

  But then Rene moved into Viola’s face.

  “Just because my Trond had an M1 and M3 CRISPR neurodevelopment modification done to him, you wouldn’t understand any of it. No one in my hometown did. Not my family, nor my friends, and least of all my husband. My ex-husband, that is.”

  “What do you mean M1, M3?” Viola pressed Rene to explain herself.

  “That’s a group of about thousand genes, responsible for our intelligence quotient. Don’t you see, I don’t want my kids to go through the things I had to. Do you know what it is like to work ten hours a day at the cash register, just because I never got past high school? Do you know what it is like to become everyone’s laughingstock, just because you can’t make it past the most basic math tests? For some, university is a dream. For me it was high school, but I didn’t even make that. That’s why I am here. I am not going to let that happen to my little Trond. You see that? He is never going to be called a slow coach, a poor learner, or just plain retard. No one is going to take away his future from him. Most of all not you.”

  “I... I don’t...”

  Viola was now the last person to take a moral stance on anything. Was the young woman making the right decision? Was she giving her child a better start by taking this wild chance? Or was she simply hurting him? Maybe Viola was just narrow-minded. Maybe the lack of the insight that intelligence gave could be deemed a handicap, just as mitochondrial disease. And maybe Rene’s Trond, of all people, deserved a better life than what Rene had been given.

  Viola’s mind reeled in the face of these questions. And however shocking Rene’s actions were to Viola, the young woman’s perspective wasn’t. This reached Viola’s sensibility. Weren’t Viola’s choices grounded in the same reasons, which drove her to do things, reasons many people would have trouble accepting? This didn’t magically set things right, nor did it excuse Rene’s actions, but it made Viola question what was right and wrong in this matter. And if that happened, she always paid careful attention.

  But however much she empathised with Rene’s life story, it got Viola nowhere closer to a solution.

  “Please. This is exactly what I am trying to tell you. If you don’t help me, everything you’ve fought for will be in vain. Including your son’s future. Do you want to lose custody of him?”

  “Take your fear and spread it somewhere else. I would be crazy to want to go back. With those kids kicking the shit out of my son and my family trying to lock me up in an asylum.” Then the woman jumped up and raced out of the toilet.

  Chapter 39

  Sunday, 21st February 2016

  Dawn

  She felt people swarming around her, maybe the staff, circling her, observing her like some cornered animal. They had been watching her for some time, but after she hissed them off, they all kept a safe distance. Probably until Magda arrived.

  She had been wrong about a few things. She had to admit that to herself now. She was wrong about Stine. She was wrong about Marianne. She was also wrong about this place. She thought it to be important, and the very idea that these women were fulfilling their dreams seemed to be something to fight for. Actually, when she thought about it now, she had been wrong about everything.

  Only this time it was different. This time it was too late.

  For some time she thought she heard church bells somewhere in the distance. It was Sunday, and just the proper time for the believers to gather around the church’s warm fire, lit up by their faith and hopes. She thought this to be a poor joke, to be reminded of such people and their faith. If any of them lost everything and still came out smiling, still convinced it was God’s generous hand, that it was all for the better, she would call them a bunch of liars.

  Her incessant stream of thoughts ended as she saw Magda approaching.

  “I will take it from here,” Magda whispered to her staff despite their warnings. Everyone thought the clinic’s security would be a better fit for this situation.

  “You okay?”

  “So, you plan to...?” Magda prodded Viola one more time for a reaction. Searched V
iola’s eyes, for some contact.

  Then she felt herself utter some barely audible words.

  “It’s all... This place. The women... you. It’s all lies.” Viola forced the words out of herself. Yet they didn’t feel liberating. No relief was to be had.

  Still, if there was something she could do, it would be to confront Magda with her own deceit. Was that why she was here?

  “Before you pass the final verdict... Please, I think you need to see something.”

  * * *

  Viola followed Magda with hesitation.

  Magda’s eyes passed another fingerprint scan, which unsealed the doors to a more secluded space in the facility. The tight security, coupled with surveillance sensors, suggested they were entering a section that held importance for the older woman.

  And with every unsealed door, another layer of her mask would fall away. Until they reached their destination and Viola glanced into her eyes. Magda’s transformation was striking, her granite features replaced by weariness.

  As they made their way inside a simple patient room, Viola realised she stood in a teenage boy’s room. There was a huge TV screen accompanied by a games console and all the latest games to play. Cupboards with private clothes and a general mess only a boy his age could accomplish. If Viola didn’t know better, she would have thought she had entered someone’s private house, not a clinic.

  Amongst all of this everyday normality, the room was populated by one simple bed, and a host of medical scanners, vital signs monitors, and respiratory analysers. Between these instruments, Viola also noticed a nurse present behind the bed.

  Yet what struck Viola the most, was the lone stainless steel bedpan that rested against the bed. It wasn’t the urinal itself that was so extraordinary, out of place. It was the stains of blood that blended in the urine, swirled by themselves and told a whole story – one Viola wasn’t sure she wanted to be a part of.

  Before Viola saw who lay in the bed, she somehow sensed it. Her sixth sense whispered to her that it would be the boy. The same one she had met twice in this place. The frail-looking thing who had revealed one of the most well-kept secrets of this place.