Torn From the Womb (The Palpable Leprosy of Pollution) (2012)

Drag the nuns from their rooms. It’s finally time to extract the [bad word] from their wombs. Their hands are bound and then they’re
gagged for surgery. Punctured with [bad word] blade, then I force my
fingers in the wound. I stretch it till the flesh has torn; with my
filthy hands I rip it more. The mother’s screams are muffled by the
gag shoved down her throat. The tension builds as I unveil her [bad word] 
Her anaesthesia is my [bad word]  Convulsions overwhelm my patience - if
these persist ill have no choice but to kill her before she gives
birth. What a [bad word] shame. Death brings me joy, but I would rather
see her suffer as I rip her [bad word] child from her womb. I Press the
blade to her throat. Dull and with crooked teeth, I begin to saw
through her neck until I reach her spine. Now that she is dead her
body lays still. Now her unborn child is ready for extraction. I slice
open the [bad word] and the [bad word] out. Mixed with blood it pools
in her gaping wound. This carcass [bad word] of placenta and blood is
shared among assistants helping me birth the child. Once it’s gone the
severed [bad word] is bare and then the birth begins. I grab the child by
his leg and rip him from the womb. His mother’s entrails pull out and
spread upon the bed. I rape her body till she turns into a putrid
heap, then I remove the umbilical cord. I cart the child down the hall
to be classed and then sent to the nursery of rape.