Part Four
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Slowly at first, with a wet mess running down the insides of my thighs. My mom and dad were out of the house again, but I knew they would be back soon.

I had to act fast, had to get out of there.

It wasn't too bad for a few hours. I could still move.

Where was I going to go?

Out. Get out before they come back, or you are dead.

Welfare whore.

Out.

I scribbled a note, left it on the kitchen counter.

"Some friends came by. I'm going out. Be back later. Love, Claire."

Cramps. Bad cramps. I caught a local bus.

Should I tell the driver? Should I ask him to call an ambulance?

I don't know. Oh, God ....

Six stops later I got off near a convenience store.

I can't do this. I can't.

#

I had grabbed a blanket and some towels as I left home, had stuffed them into a bag, had them with me, held close. I still don't know how I had thought to do this. The contractions were coming quickly now and as the bus moved away I wondered if the driver would call someone about me, if he had noticed.

It was dark on the quiet street.

My belly rippled with pain. I had to stop, had to move. It hurt badly.

I didn't want to be alone.

Have you heard? Simon Camden has a dating service.

Virgin Camden?

Yeah.

Pain again. Somehow I knew it wouldn't be long. I kept thinking of all the horror stories I'd heard about breech babies, about mothers dying in labor.

I don't want to die, God. Please don't let me die.

There was a phone booth, up ahead. I got to it.

I punched numbers.

Simon Camden has a dating service.

His voice.

My voice.

Please help me, Simon. Please help me.

I'm coming, he said.

And he did.