Six weeks in, you wake up feeling sick.

On the morning of your forty fifth day, you roll out of your bed feeling more like shit than normal. You're head's swimming, and your stomach feels like a lead weight. At first, you wonder if you were concussed during your time in the showers last night.{if WolfmanRape =True} You also feel a painful ache in your abdomen, that spikes with pain every few seconds.{endif}

You stumble to your feet, swaying unsteadily, and half walk, half fall over to the faucet, wrapping both mechanical hands around the rim and dragging yourself up into a position of looking into the mirror. You're eyes are red, and your blue hair is unkempt. You blink a few times, staring at yourself, before a sudden burst of nausea hits you.

Several minutes later, you're sitting on the ground next to the toilet, trying to figure out what's happening to you without the assistance of your implanted medical systems, wishing you had access to a source of power, when it finally hits you.

Morning sickness. Fuck.

Cold terror fills your mind. You're pregnant. You've been pregnant for weeks. You don't know much about pregnancy, it's not something you ever thought you'd need to think about. You doubt that this place has anything in place for terminating things like this. You clench and unclench your fists, overwhelmed by a simultaneous feelings of rage and fear.

I need to get out of here. Fast.