“Rae?” I say, glancing over at her.

There is a lot of blood coming from her, and panic seizes my chest when I realize her eyes seem to be rolling back. I place the tiny baby in a bundle of towels and crawl over to her, placing my hands on her cheeks. “Rae!” I cry. “Rae!”

Her eyes flutter and roll a little. “D-d-d-don’t feel so good.”

I glance down. There is too much blood. It’s not normal. I know it as surely as I breathe. I take a few towels and press them between her legs. I know what’s happening. I’ve read these stories. She’s hemorrhaging. She needs a hospital. Now.

“York!” I scream.

Nothing.

“York!”

It takes me five solid minutes of screaming for the door to fly open.

“What the fuck are you yellin’ at me for?”

“She’s bleeding. Heavily. You need to call an ambulance ...”

York’s eyes flick down to Rae, and he says nothing.

“She’ll die, York!”

His eyes flick to the baby. Something twists in his face.

“York,” I cry out again, my voice cracking. “Please. She’ll die.”

He looks back at Rae.

“She’s your sister. Your baby sister,” I plead. “She’s done so much for you. You’ve always helped her. She looks up to you. Leave me here, if you have to. I’ll do whatever you want. Just please, I beg you, take her to a hospital.”

He hesitates. But there is something there in his face, something, maybe a familiar old feeling from when he used to protect Rae in foster homes.

“I’ll take her,” he growls. “But I won’t take the baby.”

“York ...”

“I said no!” he hisses. “That baby is a fucking burden. I’ll take her, I’ll drop her at the door and then I’ll be back to sort that ... thing ... out. After that, we’re leaving.”

“Please. He’s just a baby. Take him with her. Drop him too.”

“I said fucking no,” he snarls. “It’s too risky. I take her, or she stays here and dies, what’s it going to be?”

He’s delusional. Why he won’t take the baby, too, I don’t know. Why the hell won’t he just take them both? I don’t have time to argue, I know that. If he doesn’t take Rae soon, she’ll die. I swore I’d protect her and I will. No matter the cost.

“Take her.”

York steps in and walks towards Rae, leaning down and scooping her into his arms. There is so much blood. So. Much. I hold in my tears as he carries her limp body out of the room. Just as he reaches the door, she croaks out, “Take care of my baby, Maddie. I’m so sorry.”

My heart cracks in two as the door slams and locks.

Tears roll down my cheeks as I turn, lifting the bundle into my arms. He seems to be doing well and is already drifting off to sleep in his mass of towels. I look down at him, and something explodes in my chest. The poor, poor baby. I send a prayer out for Rae, and then I press the tiny form to my chest. I sob until my tears run dry.

I have to get out of here.

I just have to.

~*~*~*~

The baby is screaming.

He didn’t rest long, and I don’t know how long he can go on like this before he’ll die. My heart is pounding, and I keep flicking the kettle to boil over and over, keeping it hot as I wait for York to come back. I have to get free. I can’t let him take this child and do whatever it is he’s planning on doing to him. I can’t, and I won’t. I’ll save this baby if it’s the last thing I do.

It seems like it’s been hours, when in reality it has probably only been minutes. My heart hasn’t stopped pounding. Over and over, it feels like it’s being ripped from my chest and then stuffed back in again. I’m in pain, I’m tired, and I’m still covered in Rae’s blood.

Rae.

I hiccup. I pray that she is safe in the hospital right now, getting the treatment she deserves. I pray York took her and didn’t just dump her somewhere else. He wouldn’t, would he? It’s his sister, if there’s anyone in the world he cares about, even just a little, it’s Rae. Right? I don’t know anymore. I know nothing. All I know is I have to suck it up and get myself and this tiny, innocent baby boy out.

And I will.

The door clicks.

For a second, I think I’m hearing things. I glance quickly down at the wrapped baby. He seems a little pale, and I’m worried for his safety, but he’s bundled and ready to go. I clutch the kettle in my hand; it’s just finished boiling again. I know the damage it’ll do, and I hate that I have to do it, but dammit, I will. I will do whatever it takes.

I won’t be afraid anymore.

The door opens and York steps in, still covered in blood. He looks angry, wild even, and I know in that second, I’m making the right choice. I notice rope in his hands. I don’t want to know what he was planning on doing with that. I grip hold of the kettle handle so tight my fingers hurt, and I stand up. For a moment, York doesn’t pay any attention to what’s in my hands, because his eyes are focused on the baby, and he looks wild with rage.

I act quickly.

He doesn’t see it coming. I pop the top open and launch the water at him. The howl of pain he makes, I’ll hear for the rest of my life. It’s a scream of agony that I wish I never had to witness. He drops to his knees, hands clawing at his face as the water turns it instantly red, the skin already peeling off in places. It’ll damage him forever. Scar him for life. I wish I could say just like me, but I never wanted to become this monster.

I turn, reaching down for the baby when his hand lashes out, curling around my ankle. He jerks backwards, and I fall to my stomach, hitting the ground with a thump hard enough to knock the wind out of me. He moves quickly, even screaming in pain, and flattens me with his body. No. No. Please. No.

“I’ll fucking kill you,” he roars so loudly my ears ring. “Oh, God. I’ll fucking kill you.”

Something hits me so hard over the back of the head, I spin instantly. No. He’ll kill me. I have to fight. I have to get out of here, dammit. I take a shaky breath and start bucking with all my might, trying to dislodge his body from mine. I claw, I scratch, I kick, and I bite anything that comes close enough to do so. His fingers tangle into my hair, and he jerks my head back, reaching for the kettle.