“Okay, do you have that in your kit you brought?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, before reaching for the red bag next to her.
She unzipped it, grabbed a little foil packet, and a small white wrapper. She opened the foil packet and rubbed some ointment onto my head before pulling open the Steri-Strip. She placed it on one side of the gash, pulled it tight to close the wound, and pressed it down on the other side.
“You know they are going to ask about this,” she said.
“Yeah… she slipped and fell—”
“And you opted not to notify them right away…” she said.
“Will you help me?” I pleaded, staring into her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes dropping to the floor.
“You wanted to get me out of here earlier…” I whispered.
“Before Quinn told me more while you were passed out, and I think it’s wrong and… but… I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes remaining fixated on the floor instead of me.
She looked over at her bag, grabbed it, and zipped it closed. Then she moved to a stand and walked over to Quinnlyn, who had been standing against the wall near the door.
“We need to take care of your head, because they will put it together thatsomethinghappened down here,” she said.
He nodded before leaning forward and kissing her forehead.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Chapter 5
Thirty-eight days had passed. The midwife had clothing, coloring books, and crayons sent to me that same day she saw me, the day I tried to escape. No one else other than Quinnlyn had entered the room since that day, and Quinnlyn and I hadn’t spoken about it again. I didn’t try it again, but then again, he was more cautious around me. My meals had changed to include larger meat proportions, and more protein-type snacks were brought in. A few days later, she sent books and a small television with a VHS player. It sat on the floor, plugged into the one outlet that was in the room.
I drew a calendar on the back of the last coloring page. Each day, I’d mark off another day. Not only was I keeping track of the days, but I was also keeping track of my pregnancy. It was September twenty-fifth, making me exactly thirteen weeks. One of the books she sent wasWhat to Expect When You’re Expecting. I read almost every page of it. Hitting thirteen weeks meant I was now in my second trimester. The point at which the risk of miscarriage went down.
My stomach was mostly flat, although sometimes I looked a little bloated—not really pregnant. I hadn’t felt any movement, but the book said that it probably wouldn’t happen for another several weeks.
Each day had been the same. Quinnlyn brought me breakfast to start his babysitting shift. He said very little to me. I’d eat whatever they brought in. It wasn’t for me—it was for this baby I was carrying. I might not make it out of this cell, but this baby would, and I needed to give it the best chance at life.
After breakfast, I’d either read something from one of the books I had or color. Once I got bored, I’d watch one of the VHS tapes that were in the room. Most of them I’d watched a few times.The Lion King, Mrs. Doubtfire, andForrest Gumpwere among my favorites.
After about two weeks of watching those, Quinnlyn brought more options in. I was pretty sure he’d gotten tired of hearing me say,“My mama always said, 'Life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get,'” and“Lieutenant Dan!”in the voice of Forrest Gump. It didn’t stop me, though, just made me randomly say more movie quotes.
Around midday, footsteps came down the hall, and Quinnlyn brought lunch. The evenings followed the same pattern—after supper, he'd swap out with the night guard. I tried to interact with them, but they ignored me. On occasion, they would look in through the bars.
I’d cried less over the last few weeks, but I still missed my family. I even missed my mom. I’d catch myself daydreaming about the day I’d see Aspen’s little face again, about her running and jumping into my arms. My brother and me holding each other so hard we couldn’t breathe.
A single knock landed on the door, breaking my trance.Batmanwas playing, but I was in my own head. I watched it so many times before I was trapped in this cell, and then it was one of the tapes he’d brought me. He only knocked when food was coming up the hall, but he’d brought me breakfast not long before.
I could hear chatter coming near. I immediately stood up and pressed my back against the wall. Whoever brought food had never talked. They walked down the hall, and then footsteps walked away—that wasn’t what this was. As they got closer, I recognized the voice of the midwife who had seen me weeks prior.
The door opened, and she came in. Unlike the last time, only she entered the room. I stood frozen against the wall. I decided that I’d be quiet and compliant if anyone came in here. Fighting them got me nowhere, except with a gash on my forehead and being dragged back to the cell by my hair.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
I shrugged my shoulders.
“May I check your vitals? Listen to the baby?” she said.
I nodded. I tried not to get excited at the thought of hearing the baby. Part of me was excited, but also terrified. What if we couldn’t hear the heartbeat? I tried to distance my emotions from the baby. I knew that they would separate us as soon as I delivered, and I was trying to prepare myself mentally. I walked to the bed and sat down. She sat down next to me, took my blood pressure, and listened to my chest.
