Chapter 1

Once again her eyes fixed on that one dark spot on the peeling green paint of the room. The spot she'd already passed by 47 times since she'd seen the sun go up in the grey-blue sky. 47 times she'd walked from the wall with the fake wooden cupboard to the wall with the window. And she imagined she could already see where her footsteps had left marks on the flimsy brown carpet. If she continued like this for another few hours, she was convinced she'd wear a hole into the material. 48, she counted, as she turned once more, away from the wall with the window she's just reached. Actually she had no money to pay for a room with a window. But the manager of this motel was a nice guy and she suspected he'd taken pity on her. She hated it when people pitied her. But she was grateful for the window, nonetheless. At least seeing the colours of the sky change from black to red to blue to red and finally to black again gave her some kind of idea about what time it was. And looking at the open sky kept her from simply going crazy.

She concentrated on keeping her footsteps even, trying to make her heart beat to the deliberately slow rhythm. One, two, one, two… But she failed and her heart kept racing. Because the baby in her arms was still crying. She'd been rocking her for the whole night and all of this morning, and still the baby kept crying. She'd read her her favourite stories, she'd tried to cheer her up with that little, stuffed dog she loved so much, she'd sung to her, cradled her in her arms while laying down on the bed, still softly rocking the child. She'd spoken to her in that soothing voice that never failed to calm her. Never, until now.

Inside, Stevie was silently, desperately pleading with her daughter to stop crying. To just go to sleep, so she'd know her precious, little girl was alright. But the baby kept screaming and by morning, Stevie'd run out of ideas on what to do. Everything inside her was shaking with fear, her gut seemed to consist only of nothingness, a nothingness that made all the muscles around it clench and twist, trying to fill that void. She didn't know what to do. Why wouldn't the baby stop crying? What if she was sick?

She looked down at the one-year-old in her arms and she just couldn't help the tears that filled her eyes. She was so scared that maybe Rose might really be sick and she wouldn't know what to do to help her. What if something was seriously wrong and she didn't recognise the sights? How could she live with herself if something happened to Rose because she didn't take care of her well enough?

She wished she could call someone, anyone, to tell her what to do. To tell her everything would be alright, that Rose would be alright and that she was worrying too much. But there was no one she could turn to.
Not her parents. Surely not her parents, because they had made it quite clear they didn't want anything to do with her anymore, the moment she'd told them she was pregnant. Not her sister, because Michelle had had that look of disgust on her face. Disgust and envy, because her fiancé and her already knew that despite their wish for the contrary, they could never have children. And now, there was her sister, a girl of 15 years that still went to school, standing in front of them, shaking with fear while she was confessing what would've been Michelle's greatest dream come true. It just didn't seem fair. Stevie could understand the resentment and anger she had read on Michelle's face. And she'd understood the jealousy. She'd felt the blame, the disappointment and the shame they piled on her sink deep into her heart. There was no way she could call them.

Her father had told her in that cold, emotionless voice to go and get her things, because he only had one daughter and he didn't want a stranger in the house. To this day she still heard his voice resonating in her ears when she lay awake at night. And she still remembered her mother's hateful stare and the contemptuous twist of her lips that had burned deep into her, scalding her as the woman had turned her back on her youngest daughter without a backwards glance. They'd probably hang up as soon as they recognised her voice, anyway. And even if they didn't, she could already hear her mother's words in her head:

"We knew straight away that you wouldn't be good enough for that baby, Stephanie. You better just leave her with us before you do any more damage."

The words were only in her head and still, they stung. Because it was almost exactly what her father had said to her, shortly after she'd given birth to Rose. He'd come to her hospital room and for a moment she'd almost dared to hope that he'd come to talk things over. The past eight and a half months had been hell for her and she would never forget the cruel words spoken to her by the very people she'd come to looking for support. But if her father was here now to offer some kind of truce, an agreement for the baby's sake, then she was prepared to move past all of that. Because in spite of everything that had happened between them, she was still little more than a child herself and desperately looking for some sort of guidance and safety, now there was this little person in the world she wanted to care for so very much.

The baby in her arms shifted and Stevie looked down at Rose. Her beautiful, little Rosie. And she was glad she'd refused her father's demand to just give the child to Michelle – "… because we both know you don't have the first idea on how to be a mother, Stephanie. Just admit it to yourself, that child would be much better of with sensible, reliable people like Michelle and Tom instead of you."

That precious little fluttering of hope had been extinguished so immediately that she would've doubted it had ever been there if it hadn't been for the painful, crying void that now sat in its place. She'd already felt that once, when she'd been standing on that hill eight and a half month ago and said goodbye to everything she'd known so far. She'd been sure she had hardened her heart against her parents then, but now it turned out she had been less successful at that than she'd originally thought. Well, she wouldn't make that mistake again. Her own parents hadn't only sent her away, they despised her. Held nothing but contempt for her. Contempt and shame. Still, she'd looked at the newborn sleeping peacefully beside her and she'd sworn to herself then and there never to feel shame for her own daughter. Yes, maybe she had been foolish and careless. She definitely had been. But in spite of what everybody wanted to make her believe, the baby beside her was a blessing. Her blessing. Not a mistake, whose existence should be regretted and denied.

And so she'd sent her father away, convinced that somehow she and Rosie would make it. Because she loved her child.

Now it suddenly didn't seem so simple anymore.

What if Rose was sick? She barely had enough money to pay for their room anymore, how was she supposed to pay for a doctor? Or for medicine, if it came to that.

Please, Rosie, don't be sick. I promise it'll be alright, I promise, ok? Just don't be sick, please. And part of it, she repeated out loud.

"Shh, Rosie, it's alright. Mommy's going to make it alright, don't worry. Mommy's going to take care of you. It'll all be alright, I promise."

Her voice cracked on the last few words and she had to look away as she tenderly stroked the child's wet cheek, because she didn't want her daughter to see her cry. She had to be strong. She had to be strong for Rose. Now more than ever.

She just didn't know how she was supposed to fulfil that promise.

One, two, one, two, she counted in her head. Round 51, one, two, one, two. Desperately, she tried to cling to those numbers, to find solace and security in the steady rhythm of her counting.

But still, her heart kept thundering against her ribcage.

And the baby just wouldn't stop crying.