There’s no time. Between Betsy’s moaning and writhing, all I can do is pat her hand and wipe sweat off her brow. The doctor gears up, and they remove the lower half of the bed. I’m thankful Betsy keeps pulling me closer to her head. I do not want to see what’s happening down at the other end.

The doc says push, and Betsy screams. Though I’ll be deaf as well as fingerless by the end, I just keep murmuring sweetness like Auntie would. There’s a grunt and a scream, and suddenly there’s a new noise in the delivery room. A mewing cry. The doctor holds up a gooey, purple baby.

“Oh God,” Betsy cries. Fat tears trace her puffy cheeks. “I did it,” she whispers. “I really did it.”

I watch the baby wriggle and cry in the nurse’s gloved hands. It’s amazing, really, how we’re brought into this world. Red and squalling, but so, so beautiful. I feel the corners of my eyes dampen as I watch a fresh life take her first breaths. A real-life miracle.

“You did it,” I whisper. “You were amazing. I couldn’t have done that.”

Betsy smiles up at me. “When it’s your time, you will.” Then she turns her smile toward her baby.

The room chills suddenly. I can’t do what Betsy just did. The pain, the torture. Not to mention the nine months of agony beforehand. And Betsy’s already done this three times. I step back, shaking my head. I’m not thinking about Betsy or the baby. I’m thinking about escape. I glance around the room and realize no one’s paying any attention to me. The doctor tends to Betsy. Two nurses clean off the mewing baby in a heat tray. Two steps and I slip unnoticed into the quiet hallway.

Then I take off running.

Time has slipped away while Betsy was pushing. The hallways are dark and empty. As I creep down the hall, I hear the murmur of someone’s TV set, the steady hum of the air ventilators. Other than that, it seems everyone’s asleep. If I can find the stairs, maybe I’ll have a chance at getting out. I pull up to a corner and peek around.

There’s a guard at a desk twenty feet away. His half-lidded eyes watch the flickering surveillance screens in front of him. I watch, barely breathing, as his heavy lids slide down. I can’t believe this is the best security the government can offer. They must think that their patients are as easy to tend as mindless sheep. Well, tonight I’m more wolf than sheep. I slink past his desk and into the stairwell. I fly down the stairs at an amazing clip. The only sounds are my footsteps and the beating of my heart.