Annabella was in the hospital bed with her husband, Hank, by her side, letting her squeeze his hand.
She was giving birth.
"Come on, baby! I know you can do it!" Said Hank, trying to hide his pain from his voice of her squeezing his hand. Annabella screamed as she pushed her baby out. That was it. It was over. She had done it. It was a mirical.
"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Smith!" The nurse said. "It's a girl!" He handed the baby to Annabella.
And she screamed.
It was the most horrible thing she had ever seen. Her skin was so pale, it looked like she could die at any second. "Are you sure it's ours?" Hank asked, a look of disgust on his face. "Yes, sir. She's your's." The couple couldn't believe that that girl, no, that thing, was their's. "I'll leave you two alone with the baby." Said the nurse. He left with a clipboard in his hand.
"What have we done?" Asked Annabella. Hank's unibrow formed into a canyon. "I'll take care if it." He said. He took the baby out of her hands.
And threw it against the wall.