I saw the waste laid down towards our people. Starving Mothers with dry breasts killing their suckling babies because they couldn't listen to their crying anymore. Their malnourished agony. The saddening, maddening agony of the creature you gave birth to. You were supposed to care for. And your once strong baby boy is now weakly crying, gasping for air, and you can see every one of his fragile ribs poking out from his paper-thin skin. And it is all your failure. He had so much potential, and you wasted it all. Dash his brains with a rock. Life won't get better. Everyone is starving. And his misery is the purest form of it, because he has no conception of why this happened. He only knows pain and suffering. He doesn't know the choices that we made. The choices that brought him into his current, uncomprehending Hell. Maybe, maybe if we kill him while he doesn't understand... He will die And go to Heaven. While we are stuck in Hell. This is my last sacrifice as a Mother. Killing him. Because it is for the best. After all, What sort of life would he lead?