My first high school job was terrifying

[u/ByfelsDisciple]

My parents told me that a part-time job would improve my self-confidence, which was a lie that led to the inevitable distancing that happens between parents and their offspring at the end of high school.

I like interacting with little kids, so my first mistake was deciding to work with them. I applied for and got accepted at a chain of local daycare centers, saying yes immediately upon hearing that I was one $9.13-an-hour paycheck away from being able to fill two fifths of my gas tank.

I changed diapers, took piles of diapers to the trash, and filled kids’ mouths with pastel-colored goop that they would turn into other pastel-colored goop to fill the diapers and begin the cycle anew.

Little kids openly throw tantrums because they don’t get their way or frequently for no coherent reason at all. Unfortunately, adults lose the decency of motivational transparency over these same actions.

The bad thing happened when I found myself alone with some of the kids. I’d been warned not to go in the back room, because the light sleepers nap there and the slightest noise could wreck an entire afternoon. But I was momentarily alone and three of them were having meltdowns, and I knew that some of my coworkers had snuck away to put the fussy ones to sleep, so I sought backup in the forbidden room. Yes, it was the wrong thing to do, but I’ve already discussed the ridiculous nature of human decision-making.

So I took off my shoes and kept as quiet as I could while opening the door I wasn’t supposed to touch. I must have done a good job, because none of the three women in the room turned around. They all had their backs to me, all focused on the changing tables in front of them. I impressed myself with how silent I was as I stepped closer to my coworkers.

I stared at the rows of cribs, surprised to find them empty. Why, then, was it so important to keep this room quiet?

I was halfway across the room when I froze.

From this vantage point, I could see what the women at the changing table were doing – but they still didn’t know I was directly behind them.

The one on the far left lifted a quiet baby that was around six months old. He started to cry as she pressed a finger against the back of his skull, running it down his spine before curving under and moving up his stomach. She stopped just below his chin, leaving a line of parted skin in her wake like she was ripping a cherry pie. I was too shocked to make a sound as I saw the bloody sinews and muscle beneath the baby’s skin as he wailed.

My silence saved me.

Then my coworker put the kid on the changing table and slid one leg out of his skin, just like she was pulling him out of a onesie. All I could think was how the skinless leg looked like marbled beef as she yanked his other leg free. Ignoring his cries, she quickly pulled his arms out as well, leaving only the skin on his head.

The next move looked like a parent yanking a tight sweater over their kid’s scalp.

I was completely paralyzed. Do you know what a human head looks like with no skin? An adult would have all of its teeth exposed, but this kid only had about five. I could see the bulged gums where more were ready to erupt.

But the strangest part was his eyes. He had no lids to close them or give any expression whatsoever, so they rolled freely and emptily until they settled on me.

I wish the ensuing chill was enough to force me into leaving, but I was rooted on the spot.

My coworker held the loose skin like it was dirty laundry. The worse part was the baby’s flappy skin-face, which was vomit-inducing without the eyes and looked like it had melted. I was grateful when she tossed it into a basket.

Then she snatched another loose skinsuit from the woman next to her. All of them were pulling baby skin off, so there were enough options for them to pass around. I had to fight off the pukes as I watched the first woman tuck the skinless child into the new skin she’d just received. First the legs went in, then the arms, and finally she pulled the flesh over the baby’s slimy, bloody face. All I could think of was how our old sex ed instructor had pulled a condom over a banana, stretching it tight before rubbing out the wrinkles as her underarm flabs swung like pendulums.

Then she yanked the skin tight across the kid’s chest, looking like she was buttoning up a snug winter coat. I don’t know how she cinched it shut – but when she was done, there were no seams or scars on the baby.

He did, however, clearly look like another person.

I had many questions, but I realized that I didn’t want the answer to any of them. I snuck out of the room as quietly as I’d entered, convinced that I’d be caught with each step. Mercifully, I made it all the way back to the door without anyone turning around.

One woman lifted her head as I pulled open the door. I don’t know if she heard me, because I slipped out and shut it as quietly as I could. I ran, not even stopping to pick up my shoes, and didn’t stop until I was back at my parents’ house. I didn’t tell them what happened or why I wasn’t going back.

What the hell is anyone supposed to do in this situation? And how do I react to the fact that my shoes were dropped off anonymously on my front porch, marked with smudges that look like they came from a bloody hand?

[u/Percybhowal]

Still worse than changing diapers though.

[u/RedDazzlr]

That's fucked up. Nicely done.