Disclaimer- Gilmore Girls and the characters associated with the show are not mine.

Chapter Thirteen: Saturday, Four PM- Jess

The weak crying woke him. He stayed put on his cot, hoping she'd wake up and take care of it. He didn't know what to do, how to help the tiny baby. Giving up, he wrapped his blanket around him and padded across the icy apartment to his mother's bed. Her loud snores drowned out the sound of crying, and the smell of her breath let him know she wouldn't wake up anytime soon. He poked her a few times, hoping she'd stir. Turning away, he moved to the bottom dresser drawer where the little girl slept.

"Shhhh, if you wake her, she'll be mad," he said, touching the baby on its back, trying to get it to be quiet. Startled by the wetness on his hand, he groaned. "I don't know what to do," he said, before moving to the bathroom and getting a towel off the rack. Folding the towel, he slid it under the baby's lower half, and pulled up the blankets she kicked off. "Go back to sleep, she'll take care of you in the morning," he said, before returning to his own bed, popping his thumb in his mouth and covering his head with his blankets and pillow. Trying to drown out the weak cry.

The next night, he woke to his mom crying. The little baby girl was cold when he touched her, lying motionless on his mother's bed. So cold. And then she disappeared from the apartment. Carried off in his drunken mother's arms to who knows where. He didn't understand what had happened till much later. Years later.

Jess rubbed his hands across his face, took a sip out of his water bottle, and after staring off into space for a few minutes, continued to type.

When it happened again, I was older. I was older and I did what I could to keep the little boy healthy and happy. For almost a month I warmed up the formula the hospital sent home with Liz, and fed little Willy. I figured out how to change the cloth diapers. I learned how to rinse out them out in the toilet before washing them in the tub with the wet baby blankets. I hung them around the apartment to dry after wringing them out by hand. I watched the laundry machines in the apartment building and would sneak baby clothes into other tenants' loads to get them really clean, pulling them out of the dryers before the tenants returned. But I was terrified whenever I left the apartment. I didn't like leaving Willy alone.

And it didn't take long.

Too drunk to move, Liz insisted I go get the mail. Willy was sleeping, so I thought it would be safe. I didn't think he'd wake for another hour. I ran down the steps, and was ready to head back up, when the postman walked in. So I waited. I knew Liz was expecting her welfare check, so I stayed while the man put the mail into the boxes.

It was only a matter of minutes before I knew it was over.

The screaming echoed down the steps, and when I pushed my way past the neighbors clustered in the small apartment, all I saw was the deep red blood on the floor before they covered my eyes. The same deep red in Miss Patty's scarf.

It had only taken a minute for a drunk Liz to decide to put Willy in the high chair we'd been given. Though, even I knew at ten, the baby was too little.

It had only taken a second for Willy to slide out while Liz's back was turned.

Raising his hands up from the keys, Jess felt his eyes begin to burn. He sank back in his chair and thought about being back in New York City, living with his mother again, crying for days after Willy died. Missing the brother he'd grown to love and tried so hard to take care of. He remembered the guilt, the pain, thinking if only he would have moved faster, not waited for the check. He remembered the hate he felt for Liz.

Liz who had been abused for years. Liz, who had her first baby at twelve.

Returning to the keys, he tabbed down.

"Hello, pretty girl. I live next door. Can I come into your playhouse?" the man asked, as he crouched in the Wonderland sized doorway, watching her brush her doll's hair. Liz knew she wasn't supposed to talk to strangers, but this wasn't a stranger, not really. Liz had been to his party just last week and everyone in town knew Mike. He was a hero. Like Superman. Shrugging her thin shoulders, she continued to style Nellie's locks. "Here, let me," the man said as he took the brush, and sitting behind Liz, began to carefully work it through her hair. "You have beautiful hair, pretty girl. It's soft and silky. We could play together, sometimes."

Jess continued typing Liz's story, trying to purge the events from his brain. Finished, he stood, and swiping his hand across his desk, he knocked the papers, water bottle and miscellaneous items to the floor. He paced back and forth, left the room, then left the house. His anger and despair carrying him down the streets. Putting himself into Liz's shoes made everything worse, but he'd been driven to type it out. Stumbling into Truncheon 2, he looked around for his anchor, his heart. Catching sight of Rory, he froze and lifted his hands in a silent plea.

Running to his side from behind the counter, Rory threw her arms around him and held him close as they sank to the floor, and Jess shook with tears he couldn't shed.

A/N- Thank you to all who have reviewed. Keep it up, I love them!

Lillybelle76- Thank you for your kind words. I do have a short story published, but not my novels. I may never let them see the light of day. I break a lot of rules when I write, and tenses are my weakness…but thanks for the positive thoughts!