She’s only been there two months when they do the medical screening. She doesn’t remember, until she does.
It comes to her in the night, in flashes, in fits and spurts and fear and cigarette smoke. What they did. What they wanted her to forget.
They took her eggs. There are cuts near her hip bones they tried to explain away.
She wants a second opinion. She goes to Planned Parenthood under a false name. She pretends she’s hiding from an abusive ex. That’s what it feels like. They tell her. They question more but she brushes them off and runs out before they can figure anything else out, before they can report the young woman with scars on her hips and nails bitten down to the quick.
She cries herself to sleep in her dorm. Those bastards, she thinks, and it only makes her feel marginally better.
She questions one of them, later. What did you do to me?
We took your eggs. We need them. We’re sorry we couldn’t tell you, but it’s for the greater good. You’ll see.
Why me? she asks.
No one answers