Before I share this, I just want anyone that reads this to know that I love my wife. I love her so much.

We have been having troubles for the past few years. She desperately wants children..I do as well, I guess. We went to clinics and doctors and therapists. And she cried and moaned and I held her because I knew that this must be so hard for her. I stroked her hair and kissed her and promised her that we would find a way.

But I found something.

I made her a small shed in our garden, sort of a studio, for her painting. She loves to paint. I didn't like to disturb her though, her studio is her place. Just like my "man cave" is mine. I don't know why I was so curious, she was away for the morning, driving to a gallery a few hours away. So I went in.

God I love my wife, but those paintings. They were... creepy. That's the only word. Each one was a family; a father, a mother... and a baby. And I realized that each one was us, huddled together, smiling. But the resemblance wasn't what scared me. It was the baby itself. On each canvas the baby was a deep red, aggressively painted against the serene family behind it. Yet still noticeably a baby, so tiny.

I didn't stop looking around, I opened the door in the studio to the tiny cupboard sized room that usually held all the
paints and brushes. I opened it and I could hardly comprehend what I was seeing. I don't think I ever will. And I don't know what to do, I feel like I don't know her anymore. I feel like I married a stranger. And I'm scared. I'm fucking scared.

I love my wife... But those tiny bodies. Those crushed fetuses, smeared with that deep crimson blood used as a... as a fucking tool. There were so many twisted little babies... all rotting in the cupboard.