The room was a battlefield, still echoing with violence. Broken glass from the beer bottle lay scattered near the wall. The curtains swayed slightly from the force of the slam that had come just moments before.
On the floor, Samuel's mother struggled to breathe, her hands cupping the swell of her belly as though trying to hold the baby inside with sheer will. Samuel stood frozen for a second, blinking, sweat dripping from his brow, his heart hammering so loudly it muffled everything else.
The man lay crumpled beside the wall, groaning, blood rising in a welt where Samuel had struck him. But Samuel's eyes were on his mother. Her face was barely recognizable—purple blooms of swelling around her cheeks and eyes, a thin trail of blood trickling from her nose.
He dropped to his knees beside her."Mama," he whispered, his voice dry and cracked.
Her lips moved—a wince, then a whisper—but no sound came. She didn't respond. She didn't speak at all.
His mind was chaos. All he knew was that he had to get her out.
His eyes darted around the room, wild and frantic, and then they landed on the car keys glinting on the table beside a stained beer ring. He lunged for them, snatched them with trembling hands. The metal clinked in his palm like it was mocking him.
He turned back to her. He tried to lift her the first time and couldn't. Her body was limp, dead weight. She winced and moaned, clutching her belly. He adjusted, hooking his arms beneath her thighs and back, then heaved.
He was only seventeen, and she was seven months pregnant. His arms burned. His legs trembled. Her blood soaked into his shirt. His knees nearly buckled at the front door, but he caught himself, muttering beneath his breath.
Outside, the short stairs seemed to stretch like a mountain. He took them slowly, one step, then another. Her head knocked softly against his shoulder as he adjusted his grip, mumbling another apology.
The SUV sat in the compound, just where the man had parked it hours ago. Samuel dragged the door open with one hand and carefully placed her into the passenger seat. Her head lolled. Her eyes fluttered. She moaned something he couldn't make out.
He slammed the door shut and ran around to the driver's side. His hands were trembling too hard to get the key into the ignition. Three tries. Four. Then it clicked. The engine roared.
Just then, a sound behind him—a groan.
The man was stirring now, sitting up and clutching the back of his head. He turned and saw them in the car."Samuel!" he shouted, stumbling to his feet. "What the hell are you doing?"
Samuel didn't answer. His jaw was clenched. He locked eyes with the man for just a second through the windshield, and in that moment, something changed.
The man staggered toward the passenger door, trying to yank it open."Get out of that car! That's my car! Get out!"
Samuel's mother moaned.
Samuel floored the gas. The tires screeched. The SUV lunged forward. The man barely jumped out of the way.
"You think you can just walk out of here?" the man roared after them. "You think this is over? I took you in, you little bastard—this is what I get!"
Samuel didn't look back. His eyes were locked on the road, his mother's shallow breathing the only sound in the car.
He missed two turns. Almost ran a red light. A bus nearly swerved into his lane and honked. But Samuel didn't flinch.
"She's not gonna die. No. No. Move, move, move."
The edges of his vision darkened. His shirt was damp with sweat and blood. The smell of it filled his nose.
His mother was silent now.
"No, no, no, no. Mama," he said, glancing sideways. "Just hold on. Okay? Please. Please, just hold on."
Her head turned slightly. She groaned.
Samuel wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, but the tears wouldn't stop.
When he screeched into the hospital compound, he didn't even park properly. He jumped out, ran around the car, yanked the door open.
"Help!" he screamed at the entrance. "Somebody help me, please!"
Two nurses ran out with a gurney. A man in a white coat followed them. They lifted her gently. She cried out in pain as they moved her.
One nurse touched Samuel's shoulder and told him to stay outside, that they'd take it from here.
"Wait—wait. What's going to happen?" he asked, his voice trembling. "She's pregnant. She's seven months."
"Please, just give us a moment, sir. Please stay outside."
He followed them in anyway, up to the emergency desk. A woman in scrubs handed him a form and a pen.
"We need this filled out."
"I don't—my mother—her full name, her address, date of birth, how many months pregnant… Has she had any previous complications?"
Samuel stared at the form. The words swam. His hands were shaking.
"I don't know her blood type," he shouted. "I don't—I don't know half of this!"
"Sir, calm down."
"She's dying, and you're asking me to write?"
Another nurse placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. Just write what you know. Sit down. Take a breath."
He looked at her, then at the hallway. The doors had already shut behind the gurney. He dropped into a plastic chair.
His hands were slick with blood—hers. His shirt was soaked through. He stared down at his feet. No sound. Just the hospital hum and the hammer in his chest.
It felt like forever when the doctor finally walked out. He was young, glasses, calm face.
"She's stable," he said gently. "We've stopped the internal bleeding. She's resting now."
Samuel exhaled sharply, nodding."Can I see her?"
"In a while," the doctor replied, then hesitated. "I'm sorry. We couldn't save the child."
The words didn't register.
Samuel blinked. "What?"
"The trauma caused a placental abruption. The fetus was in distress. We attempted delivery, but there was no heartbeat."
The hallway got quieter.
Samuel just sat there, still staring past the man like he didn't exist. The doctor said something else, but Samuel didn't hear it.
He heard the last scream his mother had made. He heard the man's voice again.
And then he heard nothing at all.