Authors Note: swear words, violence, and general horror and gore warnings on this.
"Sam, oh Ra, please tell me you are home, Sam!" a scream at the door says.
"Janet?" Sam says in surprise as she opens the door.
Janet pushes past the open door, and closes it behind her. She pulls the oversized timber they use to protect the door from intruders, over the door.
"What's going on?" Sam asks, staring in horror at Janet's bloody dress.
"Are all the other doors locked? I can't let him find me! Not now."
"Just a second," Sam says, running to lock the back door. "Are you ok?" she asks again.
"You have to help me have my baby," Janet pleads.
"I'll get Sha're… or someone who knows what they're doing," Sam says.
"No, there isn't any time. Sam, please. You need to get some alcohol, and drop a needle, some thread, and a knife, too."
"It's too early for you to be having a baby."
"I know. You know what, I'll get the stuff sanitized. You get some blankets you don't care about."
"Janet, I can't do this."
"Sam, please, I need you."
"Right, blankets, needles…" Sam says, trying to calm herself.
-0-0-0-
Janet is sitting on the edge of the bed, on Jack's side. Sam sits on the floor beneath her. Her two kids are in a crib (although Charlie informed her he was too old to be put in a crib during the day) in the hallway right outside the room. Sam wanted something that was far enough away that they couldn't hear Janet's yells, but close enough that she could hear any sound they made. Unfortunately, no such distance exists.
"I see the head," Sam says.
Janet's only response is a gutteral yell.
"What am I supposed to do?" Sam pleads.
"You need to catch it, Sam."
Another push, and the head is in her arms. Sam can already tell that there is something wrong. Something horribly wrong. The baby isn't moving. Janet pushes again, and Sam catches the still and silent baby in her own dress. She suddenly doesn't want to touch the death.
"Bring it up to me," Janet pleads, extending her hands toward it.
"Janet…" Sam says, trying to figure out how exactly she is going to tell Janet that her baby is dead.
Sam looks at Janet's face, and knows that she already knows, "Sam, give him to me now. I might be able to save him."
Sam is sure that's isn't true. This doesn't feel like a fresh dead. But she hands the baby over. Janet starts alternating between touching its tiny chest with her fingers, and putting her mouth over the baby's mouth.
"Janet, there is something else coming out of you," Sam tells her with terror.
"I know, Sam, it's just the afterbirth. It's normal."
By the time Sam catches the afterbirth, she's getting pretty concerned about Janet's actions with the baby. Janet has to know that it's not going to work. She does know that, right?
Sam isn't sure how much blood loss is normal, but she figures it's got to be less than this. This certainly can't be a healthy amount.
"Janet, you're bleeding. You're bleeding a lot."
There is no response.
"Janet," Sam says, pulling Janet's face to focus her eyes on Sam. She leaves a trace of blood across Janet's cheek, but neither notices. "Look at me. You're bleeding way too much. What do I do?"
"Get the needle and thread from the alcohol. And you have to sew me up."
"Sew? I don't know how to sew."
"You're kidding me. You don't know how to sew? You've got to be the only wife in the history of wives that doesn't know how to sew," Janet says with a laugh.
"It's not funny. You're going to die, and it's going to be my fault," Sam says, barely holding her hysteria back.
"I'm not going to die. You're going to go get the needles, and you're going to stich me up. You're going to be awesome at it."
Sam nods, even though she doesn't believe a word of it. She grabs the needle.
"Janet, I literally don't know how to thread one of these things," Sam protests.
"Ok, I'll thread it, you pump on his chest three times, and then breath into his mouth," Janet instructs.
Sam nods her head and takes the baby, even though she's certain the action is futile. A few seconds later, they trade back, and Sam is in possession of the needle.
Janet lays back on the bed. "Ok, Sam, you have to look for the place where the blood is coming from."
"Look… just like look inside of you?" Sam asks in horror.
"Sam, you just delivered my baby. You've touched me there, you can look at me. You can look inside me, and find where I'm bleeding from."
And Sam notices that in Janet's efforts to help her stop the bleeding, she's stopped the strange actions on the baby. Instead, she's just holding him close to her heart.
"Ok, I see it," she says.
"Now, you just sew it closed. Just stick the needle in one part, and through the other part you want to go together," Janet says, miming the action in the air.
"Ok," Sam says, tentatively putting the needle through the tender flesh. Janet flitches. "Oh, Ra, I'm so sorry, Janet, I did it wrong."
"No, sweetie, you didn't do it wrong. It's going to hurt. You still need to do it."
"I don't want to hurt you."
"But you need to," Janet says, locking eyes with her.
"Right," Sam says, realizing her squeamishness is wasting time. Time that Janet might not have. She deliberately shoves the needle through more flesh, drawing the rip closed. Another stich, and another, and the cut is closed, and the bleeding has stopped.
"You did it," Janet says.
"I did," Sam says in shock.
-0-0-0-
Five minutes later, the umbilical cord is cut, and the bloody blankets are soaking. The children are checked on. Sam takes a blanket. "Janet, can you hand me the baby?"
Janet shakes her head.
"Janet, I just want to wrap him," she explains. She already knows that for some reason she isn't going to be able to separate Janet from her dead son.
"He doesn't need to stay warm," Janet says coolly.
"I know, but if you're going to hold him, he might as well be fuzzy," Sam says. Desperately trying to make something that was not funny into a joke.
Janet nods.
Sam takes the baby, and wraps him with reverence. Then she hand him back to his mother. "Janet, can I ask you… about the locked doors."
Janet sighs, "He's going to kill me."
"Yeah, he better not, after I saved you," Sam jokes. Then she looks at Janet's face, "Oh, Ra, you're not kidding. Who?"
"My… husband. He caused me to go into early labor."
"How?" Sam presses.
Janet didn't answer.
"He beat you?"
Janet lets out a little sob.
"He killed your son," Sam accuses with anger.
"Next time it's going to be me."
"Janet," Sam says in shock, "You're not going back to him."
"He owns me, Sam."
"I don't care, he's not going to kill you."
"My baby died, it doesn't matter what happens to me," Janet says, tearing up again. Sam put her arm around her friend and tires desperately to think of something that would help this conversation.
She thought delivering a baby was hard, but that's nothing compared to this.
Her thoughts are interrupted by a voice coming from the other side of a thick door, "Sam, let me in! What's with the locked door?"
"Janet, I have to…" Sam says.
"Right," she nods.
"You're alone, right, honey?" Sam asks through the door.
"Yeah," Jack says, his stomach sinking. What is his wife afraid of?
He opens the door and sees her dress soaked in blood. "Sam," he says in a panicked voice.
She falls into her arms crying.
"I should get Janet, right?" he says, trying to push her away.
"Janet's here," she says confused.
"It's… over?" he asks.
She nods.
"You should rest," he says, pulling out of her grasp, and lifting the heavy bolt to escape into the backyard.
He collapses on the deck. He stares into space willing himself not to think.
Sam sits down next to him in silence for a while. She wants to give him time to process. But they've already left the kids alone for longer than they should have. And she really needs to make sure that Janet's bleeding hasn't started again. She doesn't have the time to pussyfoot around her husband's emotions right now. "Honey, I need your help. Janet won't let go of the baby. I need you to go get it from her."
"I can't see it, Sam."
"Ok, but she can't keep clinging to it. It's not healthy."
He stares at her, confused.
"Why is Janet clinging to our baby?"
"Oh, Ra, Jack! No, our baby is fine. Janet lost her baby."
Jack starts to cry, and she wraps her arms around him, "I'm so sorry, Jack. I didn't even think."
"You're covered in blood," he points out.
"I know, there was a lot of blood. I had to sew her up, Jack. It was terrifying. I almost lost her, and the baby was gone before it was born. But listen, we should probably get inside, in case her husband shows up."
"Her husband?"
"Yeah, he's the reason she went into premature labor."
"How?" Jack asks with concern in his voice.
"He beat her," Sam says, as if that were obvious.
"He beat her, does he do this regularly?" Jack asks.
Sam nods. Janet made her promise not to tell, but she doesn't care.
Jack stands up, and starts walking toward the street with deliberation.
"No, Jack, no! What are you planning on doing? Jack, stop! You can't… Stop!" she pleads, running in front of him until he hits the property line.
She can't go farther, because there are two tiny children and a women who just gave birth depending on her. So she just goes into the house, bolts the door, and starts taking care of them.
-0-0-0-
"Hey, you're Janet's husband, right?" Jack asks the man who answers the door of the address he'd memorized in case of emergency. He kicks himself for never having visited Janet's house before. Maybe if he had seen her at home, he would have known. Then he could have protected her.
"Yeah, you know where that bitch is?"
Jack holds back his tongue. "I want to buy her."
"Dude, she's pregnant."
"I'd give the baby to you," Jack replies, knowing this is standard procedure for buying a pregnant wife. And having every intent to follow through in the most shocking and offensive way possible.
"Depends what you're offering. That bitch is a healer. She cures all kinds of sickness."
Jack holds up an offer. He knows it's high enough to end objection.
The man grins at him, and pulls out a form to make the transaction. The second that it's, signed the man sneers. "You just made a raw deal, man. That bitch sobs every time you fuck her."
And then, with the contract safely in hand, Jack punched him in the face. It's hard enough that, even with perfect form, Jack worries he might have broken his hand. The man is unconscious on the floor.
It's not enough. Nothing will ever be enough.