As I grow bigger, I can now hear what's happening in the outside world. Apart from my mother, there seems to be only one other person around. My mother has a soothing voice when she talks and sings. Her songs have a folk-like quality, reminiscent of tunes you'd find in a rural village. They are beautiful and create a sense of peace. That is, until the second voice joins in.

I can assume it's my father because he has a husky voice. He can't quite sing, but he always tries. Unfortunately, he manages to ruin the songs whenever he appears out of nowhere. I swear, once I get out of here, I'll use these tiny hands to shut him up. Then, finally, I'll be able to hear the end of my mother's songs, and maybe even join in one day.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

But for now, I listen and wait to be born with these tiny hands, longing to close my father's mouth. At least I can tell that they love each other, as they squeeze me gently after each song. It's either their way of hugging or my father's attempt at an old-fashioned abortion.

They express their love for each other, and my father eagerly anticipates my arrival. I feel the same way, father, I really do. He dreams of making me a warrior, while my mother doesn't seem too keen on that idea. She wants me to live in peace and not worry about fighting.

From their conversations, I can already sense that this world is messed up. My father insists that finding peace is impossible, no matter how much they desire it. He believes I have to become strong in order to protect myself. He even goes as far as saying he would give his life for me, but what happens then? As I listen to these discussions, I feel an overwhelming urge to cry, but I can't. The only thing I can do is make a promise. I will protect this world and restore order.