(Helen's POV)
The motel room is dark except for the streetlight bleeding through the thin curtains.
I'm sitting on the edge of the bed with my phone in my hand, staring at the screen like it might tell me what to do.
Like it might give me permission for what I'm about to do.
Or tell me to stop.
It does neither.
The phone just sits there. Still. Like everything else in my life.
I scroll through my contacts. Stop on the number I called a while ago. My thumb hovers over his name.
Can I really do this?
Can I really go through with it?
I close my eyes. Let the memories come.
Rose. Tiny. Red-faced. Screaming in my arms.
The nurse saying: "She's perfect. Ten fingers. Ten toes. Perfectly healthy."
And me looking down at this tiny person I'd just brought into the world and feeling... n
