Samwise Gamgee would never leave Frodo like this. No hero would ever do this. But books were only a reflection of real life, not the thing itself. They didn’t tell you about boys who broke their bodies and had their brains sheared down to the stem, who couldn’t talk or move or say your name. Or about mothers and daughters who made terrible, irrevocable choices. Or about babies who deserved better than the messed-up lives into which they were born.

She put her hand on her stomach again. The life in there was as small as a frog’s egg, too small to feel, and yet she swore she could hear the echo of a second heartbeat running alongside her own. All she really knew was this: she had to be a good mother to this baby and she had to take care of her mother. Period.

“I know how much you wanted kids,” Leni said quietly. “And now…”

You stand by the people you love.

Matthew’s eyes opened. One stared straight ahead. The other rolled wildly in the socket. That one staring green eye was the only part of him she recognized. He struggled, made a terrible moaning sound of pain.

He opened his mouth, screamed, “Bwaaaa…” He thrashed, bucked up like he was trying to break free. The halo made a clanging sound when it hit the bedrail. Blood started to form at the bolts in his temple. An alarm went off. “Hermmmm…”

“Don’t,” she said. “Please…”

The door opened behind her. A nurse rushed past Leni and into the room.

Leni stumbled back, shaking, flipped her hood back up. The nurse hadn’t seen her face.

He was bellowing in the bed, making guttural animal sounds, thrashing. The nurse injected something in his IV. “It’s okay, Matthew. Calm down. Your dad will be here soon.”

Leni wanted to say, I love you, one last time, out loud, for the world to hear, but she didn’t dare.

She needed to leave, now, before the nurse turned around.

But she stood there, eyes glazed with tears, her hand still pressed to her belly. I’ll try to be a good mom and I’ll tell the baby about us. About you …

Leni reached down for her pack, grabbed it, and ran.

She left him there, alone with strangers.

A choice she knew he would never have made about her.

*   *   *

HER.

She’s here. Is she? He doesn’t know what’s real anymore.

He has words he knows, words he’s collected as important, but he doesn’t know their meaning. Coma. Brace. Halo. Brain damage. They are there, seen but not seen, like pictures in another room, glimpsed through rippled glass.