Okay, so I write really sporadically and never much at a time, but figured I'd throw them all on here just as separate chapters because nothing I write should ever be considered a fic by itself. Also, I wrote them all while intoxicated and am far too lazy to go through and spell check and what not. You've been warned. Some of them are mean. Sometimes I kill characters. Those I hate and those I love more than anything.

"Mama"

It's her favorite word to hear because Ella says it so enthusiastically now, pudgy hands in the air, demanding to be swung up into her arms and she grabs her up and tickles the tiny girl until they're both giggling. She loves her daughter. She does. But she hates her life. The stress is something she wasn't prepared for, the feeling of constant death lurking around every corner, the fear of not knowing the future of her daughter. Mark tells her to calm down. She'll get hurt. She'll break a bone, get her heart broken, and they'll put her in a cast, kiss it all better, and he'll find the boy who breaks her heart and break his bones, but it doesn't feel like simple worrying. She's scared. All the time. She can't breathe with all of the thoughts that swirl through her brain.

What if someone takes her from the park when Mark isn't looking?

What if she gets sick?

What if she gets to the cleaner under the sink?

What if she can't do this and she's ruining her daughter's life?

That's the question plaguing her this week, less focused on the now of Ella's life and more the future. What if she can't handle this? What if Ella hates her forever?

"Mark, we need to talk."

But he's just gotten home from work and all he wants to do is cuddle up to the baby and check up on the latest Yankees game he had to miss.

"That was an awful pitch," he informs his daughter, catching the highlights. "After this, okay?" He glances up and offers her a smile and she tries her best to smile back.

"Okay."

They both fall asleep on the couch, identical snores falling from their lips.

"I'm sorry."

The bag she packed is light. She'll be giving up a lot of designer clothes and most of her shoes, but she can't stay, not when her chest aches every second of the day. She wants to kiss them both goodbye, but she can't risk it, so she grabs her coat, wipes a tear away and closes the door as quiet as she can manage.

She wants to get far away. He'll check Savvy first, so that's out, but the idea of leaving New York or heading home to Connecticut is too much to bare, so she takes money from the ATM, pays for a hotel room in cash, ditches her phone. She can't hear his voice, not when it will be frantic and worried with Ella crying in the background. They'll be better off. She'd never wanted to go through with it in the first place. She would ruin them both.

A week goes by in the hotel room, hours of just thoughts crowding her mind. She hopes they'll stop looking for her, that Mark will teach Ella to be strong, confident, that he'll forget she ever was a part of their lives, that Ella won't remember her at all. She's small. It's early. She'll come out of this whole situation unscathed.

When she sees her picture on the news, she knows she has to call.

I'm fine.

Stop looking.

Take care of her.

I love you.