As I made my way through the dark streets, the cramping worsened again, doubling me over with each step. I needed to find a place to rest, soon.
There was no way I could trust any doctor in this city. I was going to have to birth this baby myself. Thankfully, I'd helped my father with a few deliveries in the past. I remembered enough.
I think…
I ducked into an alley, leaning heavily against a grimy brick wall. The stench of rot and smoke assaulted my senses, thick and nauseating. I tried to breathe through the pain, tried to focus.
When the cramp eased, I forced myself to move again. Step after shaky step, I searched for a place, any place, to hide. To give birth.
DRIP.
I stopped cold. I felt warmth spill down my legs.
Oh no. Either I'd just pissed myself… or my water broke.
"Shit!" I hissed, panic rising. I broke into a half-run, scanning for shelter. The cramps came back with vengeance, a crushing grip around my abdomen.
I'm out of time!
The doctor had told me I had days. They were wrong. My son, he was coming now.
Around the corner, I stumbled into another red-light alley. Neon lights flickered overhead. Girls lined doorways, calling out to passersby with painted smiles. Broken dreams wrapped in lace and glitter. Not ideal… but it was better than the street.
I grabbed the nearest one. She was young, barely out of her teens. Shorter than me. Blonde. A fading bruise on her cheek peeked out from beneath layers of makeup. Her arms were masked by cheap bracelets, but I could see burns. She wore a glittery blue bikini top and matching bottoms.
I pulled her inside her room and slammed the door shut. Then I locked the back one, the one her pimp probably used, and shoved a battered dresser in front of it.
"What would you like to buy today?" she stuttered, pointing at a laminated menu taped to the wall.
"Your silence," I grunted, teeth clenched against the rising pain.
I tossed her one of the stolen cards. She blinked, confused.
I shrugged off my coat onto the bed and collapsed backward, yanking down my boxers, spreading my legs. My whole body trembled. Each contraction felt like something was clawing its way out of me, tearing me open from the inside.
"Umm… no. Not here. Go out." She shook her head, tossing the card back, terror in her eyes. If she got caught, she'd pay for it in blood.
I met her gaze, sweat pouring down my face. My body was on fire. I didn't have time to argue.
"You help me," I rasped, pointing to her bruises and burns, "and I'll take care of who did that."
She looked uncertain. Probably thought I was bluffing.
So I proved I wasn't.
With a grunt, I slammed my fist into the brick wall beside the bed. Dust exploded outward as my arm sank into the wall up to the elbow, leaving a gaping hole to the alley beyond.
"Believe me now?" I growled, panting through the pain.
She froze, then gave a silent nod. Quickly, she grabbed a shirt from the floor and draped it over the hole.
"What I do?" she asked in a panic, her eyes darting between me and the blood pooling beneath me.
"Knife. Alcohol. Cloth or towel. Something to clip the cord. Move!"
The urge to push was overwhelming now. My body was no longer asking, it was demanding.
She scrambled to gather what she could, laying it all beside me. Her hands trembled, but she moved fast. No alcohol sadly.
At some point, the world around me dimmed. Her voice became a muffled hum. My whole focus narrowed to one thing: push.
I knew this pain, this tearing, this raw moment, would be the start of something I'd treasure for the rest of my life.
Even before you were born, son, I would do anything for you.
A flicker of light broke through the haze.
"I see head!" she shouted, her voice high-pitched with fear.
She dropped to her knees, towel in hand, waiting.
"Catch him!" I cried, as I bore down again, every muscle straining, every nerve on fire. I felt like I was tearing myself open, I suppose I was.
With a sudden release, the pain stopped. My body sagged in exhaustion.
He was out.
The girl cradled the newborn awkwardly, coated in blood and gunk, silent.
Why isn't he crying?
Panic surged. I leaned up, grabbed him, flipped him gently over, and gave a light smack on the back.
"WWWWAAAAHHHH!"
Relief washed over me like a wave. He was alive. He was breathing.
I laid him on the bed, clipped the umbilical cord, and cut it with shaking hands.
And then… I looked at him. Really looked.
My heart swelled. All the pain, it was worth it. More than worth it.
Then I saw it.
"Ha!" I laughed hoarsely. "Guess modern tech isn't so great after all."
She wasn't a boy.
"She's a girl," I whispered, scooping her into my arms. "Hello, little one."
I leaned against the wall, cradling her against my chest. Her tiny body trembled against mine. Her soft brown hair stuck to her sticky forehead. I wiped her clean, tears slipping silently down my cheeks.
She's perfect, Bucky.
Our daughter is here. Safe. Alive.
I held her close, the girl was kneeling on the floor, hands stained with blood, a strange kind of reverence in her eyes.
I tossed the card back to her "Charge the card for a few hours," I said softly. "No one will know. I need to rest."
She nodded, ran the card, and handed it back. "I did two. That's all I'm allowed."
"Keep it," I told her. "You'll need it."
She didn't understand, but she tucked it away carefully and sat beside the bed, knees to chest.
I tried to feed the baby, but my chest was useless. No milk. Thankfully, she fell asleep almost instantly on my skin, so I let her rest.
I had formula in the bag for later, just needed water to mix it.
Then I felt it, my body healing. My womb shrinking. Torn muscles stitching themselves back together. Within an hour, I was whole again. Like it had never happened.
I hadn't taken a poison dose since yesterday… or longer. Time had blurred.
So, I was able to heal fast.
I think more women would have babies if it worked like this. Maybe. But the pregnancy I'd endured? It made us even.
When I was ready, I wrapped her in the shirt the girl had used to cover the hole and tied her gently to my chest. Her heartbeat thudded softly against me. Peaceful. Safe.
I threw on my coat, zipped it up over her. Blood and grime soaked the fabric, but I didn't care.
"Where is he?" I asked the girl.
"Who?"
"The one who did it. I keep my promises."
She hesitated, eyes flicking to the hole then me again. Then she pointed, the blocked door.
I shoved the dresser aside, revealing a narrow hallway. Dim. Silent. The only light came from other girls' rooms.
"Show me." I gestured for her to lead.
She grabbed a shirt, slipped it on, and led me down the hall, stopping at a staircase leading up.
"He's up there. Please don't say I help you," she begged, eyes wide.
"I won't." I handed her my daughter. "Hold her. Stay here!"
I turned, climbed the stairs, and threw the door open.
Three men inside. Two on the couch, one at a big desk. The one at the big desk, definitely in charge, looked like a shaved gorilla, heavy and hairy with a gut spilling over his chair.
"Who the fuck are you?" he barked. "You want a job, bitch?"
The two on the couch drew guns. I didn't flinch.
I grabbed a pipe from the wall and hurled it at the boss, it hit him dead center, punching through his chest like butter.
They fired. I took two bullets to the gut. Didn't matter. Too tired to dodge. Too angry to stop.
I leapt, grabbed the coffee table, and smashed it over both men. Guns clattered to the floor.
One tried to flee, the other came at me. I caught his punch, twisted his arm, and threw him into the other. They tumbled down the stairs with a sickening crunch.
I snatched up a pistol and followed.
At the bottom, a crowd had formed. The blonde girl held my baby tight, standing in the corner, eyes wide with horror. The others, maybe a dozen girls, watched in stunned silence.
One man groaned, trying to crawl away.
Bang.
I shot him dead. The other? One more shot for good measure.
"There," I said, retrieving my daughter. "You can all leave. Do whatever you want."
"We… we have nowhere," the blonde girl whispered.
They stood there, frozen. Waiting for orders. For a leash. They had nowhere to go. No one to protect them.
I guess they had become used to this life, plus the moment they leave here someone else will just make them their bitch, or worse.
"Any of you know how to make cocaine?" I asked.
Several hands went up. No surprise.
"Then stay here. If you want to work as hookers, fine. If not, we're going into business. Anyone who stays is under my protection as long as they work."
I needed a home. They needed a protector.
Maybe this was a start.
Maybe this… was the closest thing I could do to a good deed.
So I guess we found of home little one.
Looking down at this little face I finally heard it, her introduction.
Welcome to the world, Mira.
Born January 14th, 2014.