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“As the shape of misogyny grows, she remains trapped by men and their acts and declarations that this growth inside her must be revered and protected. Ania is sixteen, barely a child herself, but she is still expected to protect this life that is growing inside of her. And if that means she must sacrifice her own life, then so be it. This is how a horror story grows.”
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“The ones who scream for the baby are men, of course, because they wear suits, and suits show that they have power, power to decide what girls should do and not do, how they should behave, and what they should do about a life that grows inside them. They create the rules even though they would never suffer a similar fate; they would never have to watch something growing each day as they wait for it to tear its way from their body.”
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“A glitch in the matrix, a glitch in the algorithm, everyone stuck on repeat. Or maybe in retreat.
“I’m not really here,” Ania muttered again, and then she wasn’t.”
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“I’m not really here,” Ania muttered again, and then she wasn’t.”
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“Maybe that’s what this place is. A place for the scapegoats, the truth-tellers, and the ones who don’t play the game. They always end up in the jails and the hospitals and camps like this. And if you tell too many truths about the people who are keeping you against your will, they’ll manacle you to a bed frame, forcibly medicate you, electro-shock, and even lobotomize you.”
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