The man passes something to the woman, then leaves. When he’s gone, she turns and approaches me with…
“What the f**k? Is that a syringe?” I shrink back against the wall.
“Something to slow labor. We need more time.”
“No!” I knock her hand away when it gets close. “You’re not giving me anything. I don’t know what’s in that.”
Her face hardens. “Don’t be stupid. This will help.”
“Help you, maybe. Not my baby.” I cradle my belly. “Nothing goes into my body unless a real doctor tells me what it is.”
She lunges for my arm, but I’m faster. Fueled by maternal instinct and sheer desperation, I grab her wrist and twist. The syringe goes clattering to the floor.
“Touch me again,” I snarl, “and I’ll make you regret it.”
Something in my eyes must convince her because she steps back, rubbing her
