Facing the consequences

The single lamp hanging above Bria was the only source of light Bria had. From her wooden chair, she could see the same table she just woken from. An empty wooden chair sat across from her. The floor, concrete gray, much like the walls that cracked and flaked. A wooden door was built in to the far wall. Next to it was a large mirror. She could see her own wary expression through its glass. A loose teal dress covered her body, and the shackles on her legs answered just about every question she had.

Standing right behind her, leaning against the wall, was a familiar police officer. The very same who arrested her, hiding her eyes behind a wide-rimmed shade. She turned to look at the eagle gazing eyes stare back at her. Her short black hair matching her dark reflecting lens. Any of her adoring complexion was lost behind her intense look.

The door creaked open. A middle-aged women entered wearing a very conservative outfit in a white long shirt, tucked under a deep gray skirt. She wore glasses with an old thin framing and her simple earrings shown through under her brunette hair.

"Is this your idea of foreplay?" Bria **** out her usual teasing personality, but exhaustion took away any of her charm.

"Bria Foster," The conservative lady spoke with a formality in her tone. "You are a hard woman to find."

"Find?" Bria said in her daze. "Wasn't expecting I was on someone's wish list."

The lady stared at Bria with a quiet countenance, then glanced over at the cop and nodded towards the door.

"Madam. I am under strict rules to keep watch. I cannot..."

"Yes you can and will." The lady shot back.

The officer, seemingly annoyed, relented and walked out. Bria gave a playful wave, succeeding in making her scoff as she closed the door behind her.

The lady herself moves and sits in the chair across from Bria. Bria watched her precise and calculated movement with some admiration. Someone who took things seriously, even in the small things, as well as moved with orderly fashion to get what she wanted...The perfect mother figure, Bria thought.

The lady opens up a packed folder, thumbing threw page after page. "Born in Detroit, Michigan, dropped out of college,...and high school over cases of pregnant women. A drifter. Unsustainable work for more than 3 months at a time. Wracked with debt and frequently moved and used several psuedo-names when relocating..."

Bria yawned. "Is that all?"

The lady looks. "From the past year, we had traced over 46 women with your dna inside of them, each of them are going to deliver your child. All expected to carry to term."

Bria gave a lax smile. "46?"

"In the last two decades, since your first date in high school on your birthday, over 400 women will be or have given birth to your children."

Bria's smile widened. "I would have liked to hear the exact count."

The lady straightened up. "Miss Foster, are you aware of the consequences of everything you have done up to this point?"

"Hardly," Bria responded nonchalantly.

"Hardly?" The lady kept her posture, leaning forward. "You don't find anything wrong with what you are doing? You don't hold any guilt for hundreds?"

The lady threw the folder onto the table. Several familiar faces spewed out in the form of photos.

"Literal hundreds of women that you abandoned in your wake, left to carry your problems."

A rush of memories came to Bria while glancing at some of the familiar faces laid out before her, the sudden recollection of every women she had laid and bred. They would live on, carry her children, some of those children who might just be old enough to begin their own legacy.

Bria stared back at the lady. Her eyes appearing darker with the lamp further back. She studied Bria, watching with utmost judgement, and her calm-like expression glazed over Bria.