I rub my hand along the back of my neck, the tension is getting to me. I can feel a hell of a headache coming on. I need my fucking head examined. Somehow, I’ve gone from this morning where I was done with all things Hayden to now, a few short hours later, where I find myself waiting in a dark room while she has a sonogram. A sonogram of the child she’s carrying. I never thought of myself as a masochist but fuck, maybe I am.

“Let’s see what’s going on in there,” the nurse says, watching me instead of Hayden. I don’t respond. This whole place is fucked up. When I heard the way that woman talked to Hayden, I had to put a stop to it. Hayden had been in the hospital. She needed to be monitored closely, and I don’t care what the fuck the problem is between her and Hayden, that child is innocent.

That’s the only reason I did it, too. It didn’t have shit to do with the look of hurt on Hayden’s face—not at all. Hayden is looking up at me now, and the look on her face bothers me. It’s almost like hero worship, and I’m no one’s fucking hero. I should tell her flat out! Tell her that I couldn’t care less how people treat her. I start to. I really do. It’s just when the nurse raises her sweater up and reveals her stomach I get sucker-punched.

I’ve seen her stomach through her clothes. I’ve never seen it revealed like this. It’s smaller than I originally thought, which means Hayden is a fuck of a lot skinnier than I realized. But, her stomach does have a noticeable bump with the skin stretched tight accentuating it. With all the times I’ve seen her in those oversized clothes, somehow, I expected her stomach to be larger. Right now, it seems so small…delicate…something in need of…protection.

I watch as the nurse squeezes out a jelly-like substance on Hayden’s stomach and proceeds to spread it around. I watch her move the wand around and adjust buttons on the machine. All at once the noise blasts from the machine. My body stiffens as I hear it. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that noise. The last time was when Jan was pregnant…with my daughter. This isn’t my daughter…this is Hayden’s…but still it does something to me. It’s a clear sound, strong, steady; the sound of it hits me. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to hear it. This child is nothing to me. But…hearing the heartbeat causes a warmth to hit me. I want to write it off as nothing, but before I can attack the emotions that are being unleashed Hayden reaches out and grabs my hand. Now it is shock that courses through me.

The other day in the car, Hayden moved her thumb over my scars. I still hadn’t processed what her touch did to me. Here she is, reaching out grabbing my hand, holding it tightly in hers, and she’s doing it all while her child’s heartbeat is echoing around us. I look down at our joined hands. Mine are scarred and inked. Hers are pale, small, with long slender fingers, and the nails trimmed short and unadorned. It looks wrong. It feels wrong. Yet…at the same time it feels…right. Fuck.

I should pull my hand away. Yet, for some reason I don’t. Then the nurse turns the screen around. Her words get lost to me. They’re drowned out by the beating of the child’s heart and the roar in my ears. But my eyes are glued to the screen as she points to different areas on the screen. She shows the head and legs and inside the body you can see it. The small, flickering beat of a tiny heart.

The sight on the screen shouldn’t mean anything to me. The child is not mine, but instead, there’s this warmth inside of me, spreading through parts that have been cold for far too long. A purpose. A sense of duty comes over me. I wasn’t able to save Annabelle. I failed. This child, I can protect her. God knows the woman suddenly clutching my hand right now needs a protector. Which means so does her child. An innocent child. In a world of darkness innocence should be protected.

I can do that. It won’t set right my failures of the past. Yet, it might help me to breathe without feeling like I shouldn’t. Perhaps this is why I was spared. To be here in this exact place for this child.

“It’s Maggie,” Hayden whispers, and I look down at her. There are tears streaming down her face. Silent tears, but tears of joy. She’s a puzzle. I had her pegged to be just like Jan, but there’s no doubting that she’s happy. There’s no doubting she cares for this child. I don’t know what to do with these urges to protect them. I don’t know what this means. The only thing I can be sure of is that I can take care of Hayden and this child. I can make sure they’re safe. That’s my reason.

My purpose.