A/N: So I've never done a chapter like this. I'm nervous about it. Let me know what you think…

ALSO - for my lovely reviewers, yes. I posted two chapters in one day. So take a look at the last one, too. I was in a writey mood, guys.

Strong

Blythe

The world swam in my vision. My hair was stuck to my forehead in a mask of sweat, beeping and yelling going on all around me. All I could feel, or think, or see….was him.

My baby. My baby boy.

I'm sixteen, and my name is Blythe Taylor.

And I will have to sell my child in a few seconds.

No one can know.

The nice doctor from the Institute for Higher Living assured me weeks ago that he'd be fine. He'd grow up strong, they promised. So strong.

Be strong, little one.

The injections started early on – the only ultrasound appointment that my baby's father would go to. The first one. He had grimaced.

"That's it?" he had said, pointing to the little shape that was you. You, my child. So precious. I started crying, tears welling up in my blue eyes. His onyx ones turned on me as he rubbed a hand across his forehead like he did when he was nervous.

"Give it away. I can't – I can't do this." He said, leaving the room, the hospital. It had broken my heart, but I promised to keep my baby safe. Though he wasn't wanted by his dad, his mother would love him, I vowed. Wherever he was, whatever he did, whoever he knew. I prayed that he would have my olive skin, my dark hair. His eyes should be his father's, never for him to forget. Oh, he'd be so beautiful.

So amazing.

And he was. I clutched the newborn to my chest, crying and rocking his silent body. From his back were two little black feathers – the beginning of the deformity that the doctor's told me he had. I refused to believe it.

He was flawless.

My parents had abandoned me. My friends had left me. Literally, all I had was the memory of this tiny person as soon as I left this hospital. My child whimpered softly, yawning before opening his gorgeous eyes – his thick, black lashes and endless blackness in his iris. I could see the flecks of gold in them, too. The flecks that he had – his father's. I instantly forgave him for leaving. I felt pity- he'd never see his son, the one thing he got right. This miracle. My miracle.

The door in my hospital room opened to reveal Dr. Jeb Batchelder, the representative who was here to, here to….take my baby away.

I watched him go, waiting until he left with my baby. Tears spilled over my cheeks. I gripped the blankets where he had laid on my lap. I was left with nothingness. Blankness. No regret, no. Not for you, love. You're my gift.

I was so tired. Exhausted.

My eyelids dropped closed. The nurse in the room, I heard her screaming.

"Blythe! Blythe! Can you hear me?"

Oh, but I could. The peace swam around me, infinite graceful figures skating rings around me. It felt so….serene. The nurse's high-pitched yelling faded, leaving me with a smile drifting on my face. Yes, I heard the machine flatline. I heard myself die, felt the water wash over me as I left this world for good. It was okay, though.

I gave all my strength to him.

Be strong, my little one.