The cold air hit me as I burst out of the building, my legs screaming in protest. I didn’t look back. The sound of shouts followed me, but I pushed forward, my baby’s safety the only thing on my mind.
I ran until my lungs burned and my vision blurred. When I heard their voices getting closer, I spotted a large, empty barrel and crawled inside, curling up and trying to quiet my ragged breaths. The voices passed, and eventually, the night grew silent.
When I emerged, the world was still and dark. I stumbled forward, every muscle aching, until I saw the silhouette of a field house in the distance. With the last of my strength, I made my way inside.
The pain started soon after.
It hit fast and hard, and I knew—I was going into labor. Fear gripped me, but there was no time for it. I had no choice but to deliver my baby alone.
Hours passed in a haze of agony and determination. And then, finally, the cries of my baby girl filled the air.
Tears streamed down my face as I held her close, her tiny body warm against mine. For the first time in what felt like forever, hope blossomed in my chest. “Chloe... My baby...”
But exhaustion won. My eyes closed, and the world faded.