Chapter 1 - THE WHEELBARROW IN THE EMERGENCY ROOMNobody in the emergency room of St.
My bare feet were raw, bleeding from miles of sharp gravel and asphalt along County Road 14. My arms, thin and trembling from hours of continuous exertion, shook so violently that my grip on the wooden handles felt as though it could give out at any second.
Inside the metal tray of the wheelbarrow, wrapped tightly together beneath a heavy, faded patchwork quilt, were my baby brother, Lucas, and my baby sister, Lily. They were too quiet. That was the thing that scared me more than the cold or my bleeding feet. Babies weren't supposed to be that silent for that long.
"Please," I whispered, my voice cracking into a dry rasp as a receptionist looked up from her desk, her eyes widening in sheer disbelief. "Help the babies."
For several agonizing seconds, nobody moved. The entire waiting room seemed frozen in time. Then, heavy footsteps echoed as nurses rushed forward from behind the triage counter. One nurse, her badge reading Nurse Clara, carefully lifted Lucas out from beneath the quilt, his tiny head lolling limply against her shoulder. Another nurse, gasping audibly, picked up Lily and immediately screamed for an emergency physician.
"Where is your mother, sweetheart?" Nurse Clara asked, her voice tight with panic as she pressed two fingers against Lucas’s tiny wrist.
May you like
I tried to answer, but my throat felt as though it were lined with sand. Nothing came out. I hadn’t eaten a single bite since the previous morning, when Mom had given me the last crust of dry bread and told me to stay strong. I couldn't even remember when I’d last slept, because every time I closed my eyes, I kept hearing the terrifying, hollow sound of Mom's breathing—or rather, the absence of it.
All I remembered was Mom’s absolute, unyielding rule, whispered to me the night before she stopped moving: If something happens to me, Emma, get the babies somewhere safe. Do not look back. Just push.
