And so it was with love for this unborn child, a tender, knotted, fierce affection that bubbled up within her, a yearning for this tiny seed to experience something that Annie herself had only possessed for a short time—at least one parent who would cherish her, give her every ounce of attention a child deserved—that made her decide to leave home. Once her baby was born, the two of them would vanish in the night. She only had to figure out where they would go.

All she knew is that wherever they landed, she was going to be the best parent, give her little one the stability she hadn’t had. The maddening murk that always clouded Annie’s mind would fade away, and her child would love her, admire her, with no reservations. No conditions.

She talked to the baby. She could see her. A little girl with yellow hair, lively eyes, chubby legs. The child tucked herself in next to Annie at night, rested her little body like a missing puzzle piece against Annie’s chest. In the dark, Annie felt her hair, smelled its perfect scent, light and milky, almost rosy.

After Easter dinner, spent at her aunt’s, her dad’s sister’s, Annie gathered her father and siblings into the car, driving them up the empty Taconic State Parkway as her brothers, Silas and Louis, fought over their Game Boy. The moment they got home, Alice headed to some friend’s party. The boys passed out on the sofa, full from the giant meal, and her youngest sister, Gabby, was curled asleep like a cat in her tiny twin bed across from Annie and Alice’s bunk. Their dad, still asleep in the car, had grunted with derision when Annie had tried to coax him into the house. He would be fine, though, even in the cold. He was wearing a good coat.

Annie fell asleep quickly. But in the night, she woke with a sharp pain pinching her abdomen. At first she ignored it and lay back down, still as the mattress, making her body stiff as if that would ward off the pain. She kept her hands on her stomach, though, to keep her future in place, to secure it with her freckled hands. Gabby snored softly as another wave of clenching, hot agony seared its way through Annie’s body. She yelped, covering her mouth with her hand so as not to wake her sister.

The crescendo began again, an orchestra in her organs, and she tasted blood on her lips as she sliced her teeth through them, little dribbles of it falling onto her pillowcase. She closed her eyes. If she couldn’t see, maybe it would go away, ripple down through her legs and feet, and exit through a toenail.