Now, more than ever, she regretted not having taken her father’s advice. But it was too late.

Eva had thought her father prejudiced then; greedy for not wanting to share his wealth with the poorer; old-fashioned for not believing in the possibility of a gentle and pacific society where money or position didn’t matter and sex was engaged in freely.

Her gaze wandered over the almost empty windowless ceremonial birth room, paused on the door for a second and went back to the woman. She knew she was trapped and could only rely now on the women in front of her. “Help me, please. Help my baby. I’ll give you anything you desire. Money—”

She stopped because she remembered she had no money. Her mother had left her inheritance tied in a trust and the trustee was her father. She didn’t even try to call him asking for money after she eloped from their home.

Her father had just foreseen the utopia that had been preached would never be realized when using psychedelic drugs and surrendering freedom of choice—and it goes without saying, all your wealth—were prerequisites.

But Eva wasn’t so sure she believed any of it now.

What she had anticipated happening in her life and what was happening now, well, they weren’t even close. He spouted words of reckoning, words that were bringing many to their knees in thanksgiving, but Eva was starting to think she was living in some sort of weird alternative lifestyle, one that was likely going to continue to ruin her life.

“Please,” she whispered, broken from what she had learned since her time here. There was no one to help her, no one that was willing to step out of the line that was drawn for them.

He clearly wasn’t going to help her any longer. He had gotten what he wanted—or rather, hadn’t gotten, and when she had disappointed him, he had turned his back on her and their baby.

The old midwife looked from Eva to the man, and lastly to his mother, fear as clear in her eyes as the blood was bright in the sheets she was hurriedly throwing in a basket and substituting for new ones. “We should take her to a hospital.”

Maybe the old woman would be more compassionate than the husband.

“Nonsense. What she needs is a cup of yagé. It’ll help the delivery,” the old woman said, and walked to a corner in the room and brought back a small silver cup, handing it to the midwife. “Make her drink.”

“But…”

“Make her drink.”

The midwife went to the bed. “It’ll calm your nerves and ease your labor pains.”

His mother nodded before asking, “And the baby?”

He shrugged. “Put it with the other orphans and find it a wet nurse.”

Eva cinched her arms tightly around her distended abdomen. She didn’t want her child to be born in such a place. She didn’t want her baby put up with the orphans.

“What is it?” she asked in a whisper, eyeing as the midwife.

“Yagé,” said the midwife.

But before she could help Eva drink the concoction, another contraction ripped through her body, tearing a scream from her throat, “I’m gonna die!”

The midwife looked up from where she was squatted. “She is going to die, my lord.”

“Well, we all have to die one day.” He looked from the midwife, to his wife convulsing on the bed, and up to his mother. “I’ll go and pray for her poor soul.”

Eva barely heard him, not caring if he was present for the birth or not anymore. She had thought he loved her, that he loved this child they had created together, but it was all an illusion, one that she had seen far too late to do anything about.

Another pain ripped through her body and she screamed, allowing all her frustration to escape through her.

Pain.

They hadn’t given her anything, they hadn’t taken her to a proper hospital to deliver this baby as she had anticipated. No, she was giving birth in the most horrid of conditions, with people that could care less if she or her baby survived.

The midwife shook her head as she peered between Eva’s legs, her hands coming back bloody. “The baby is tearing her apart.”

“Deliver it and be done with it,” the other woman snapped, her eyes on Eva’s face. “We don’t have all day.”

Eva wanted to tell them not to touch her, but she couldn’t find the strength, bearing down as the pain intensified, ripping her from the inside out. It wasn’t supposed to be like this!

“Push, girl,” the midwife urged. “Get this over with.”

“I—I can’t!” Eva cried out, her hands clutching the sweat and blood soaked sheets. “Please, help me!”

The midwife raised her head and locked eyes with Eva over her distended belly. “Push, or you and the baby are gonna die.”

No, not her precious child! She couldn’t allow that to happen.

With the last little bit of her strength, Eva beared down and pushed, screaming as she felt the baby pass through the birth canal, each frisson of pain urging her on, telling her it was going to be over with soon.

“That’s it,” the midwife coached. “Almost there!”

Eva let out a last, hoarse scream before she felt the pressure disappear, her vision blurring as she heard the first weak cry of her baby.

“It’s a girl,” the midwife announced, but Eva barely heard her, her consciousness drifting. She had done it. She had given birth. All was going to be well.

“Will she live?” his mother asked softly, watching as the midwife wiped the copious amounts of blood from the baby’s tiny body, clamping the cord with her quick hands.

“The girl or the baby?” the midwife hissed, clearly not happy about the turn of events.

“Either,” his mother grumbled, as the midwife attempted to stave the bleeding.

“B-baby,” Eva said weakly, barely able to lift her head off the pillow. “My baby. Please.”

The midwife could not answer, her throat had closed and there were tears in her eyes as she put the little baby girl in Eva’s arms. The new mother could barely hold onto the squirming baby girl and the midwife was forced to place her arms around the trembling mother’s to keep the baby from falling onto the floor.

“I—I’m not going to make it, am I?” Eva asked, her face a deathly shade of pale. She could feel the life draining out of her now, a horrible cold settling into her bones that seemed to be too hard to overcome.

“Shh, now,” the midwife said, wiping the young girl’s face with a wet rag. “Focus on your baby.”

Eva looked down at the tiny life in her arms, tears crowding her eyes.

She wished for her father to be here, Brenda, anyone that could take this precious bundle away to a better life. She didn’t want her child to grow up in this place! Looking up at the woman, she could barely make out her outline. “H-here,” she said, her voice faint to her own ears. “Please, take care of her. Don’t let these people destroy her.”

The midwife took the small baby in her arms, her expression sympathetic to the young mother. “I won’t, I promise she will have a good life.”

Eva nodded, a lone tear escaping down her cheek. “Thank you.”

The midwife bit her lip as she watched the young woman’s eyes flutter and close, as one last shuddering breath left her broken body before all went quiet.