She hugged her, crying and blaming, "Silly child, it's your baby, how could you bear to kill him!"
"Mom, he's not my child, he's not! I don't want him, I can't accept him, I hate his father, I don't even know who his father is, I really can't keep him..."
She curled up in her mother's arms, shaking all over, crying so hard she couldn't even make a sound.
Her mother hugged her, crying even more sorrowfully, and said nothing.
In a while, her stomach began to hurt, as if someone was cutting her flesh off layer by layer with a knife.
It turned out that killing your own flesh and blood really did hurt, hurt so much that death seemed preferable.
She clenched her teeth tightly, feeling waves of darkness before her eyes, and warm liquid flowing from below.
She felt the loss of the child; in that instant, her heart hurt even more than her stomach did.
She couldn't bear to let the child go, couldn't bear to kill him, she didn't want him to leave.
