"Okay, I'm cookie dough. I'm not done baking. I'm not finished becoming whatever the hell it is I'm gonna turn out to be. I make it through this, and the next thing, and the next thing, and... maybe one day I turn around and realize I'm ready. I'm cookies. And then, you know, if I want someone to eat--- or enjoy warm, delicious cookie me, then, that's fine. That'll be then. When I'm done."

She came out of the warmth into cold. Tugged out violently before she was ready. Before she was baked.
She came the way everything does in this world, through blood and through pain.

When her blue eyes opened to look out at her existence, take in the blurred shadows that were making strange noises at her, it was an alien thing and so she did like we all do when confronted by such strangeness; she screamed. Her tiny lungs almost bursting with the shrill sound that reverberated through the halls of the Hathian General Hospital maternity ward.
After that she slept, a lot, a tiny little thing the size of a bag of sugar rarely stirring except when the ravenous urge to feed left a huge abyss in the pit of her tummy.
Then she would scream again, until she had her fill.

When her eyes were closed they would twitch, as she was lost in an endless dream. It was dark there, with things fluttering, shadowy wings of unseen birds and echoing sobs that ricocheted off of nothing but emptiness.

Like Alice, she'd fallen down a rabbit hole and didn't know how to get out, and when she was awake, when she tried to tell someone about the dreams, they didn't understand, and they just cooed at her and said, "isn't she adorable?"