sky and she ran as fast as she could, the little bundle wrapped in a blanket in her arms, her face streaming with tears as her lungs burned. She was sore and hurt between her legs, and she was pretty certain she was bleeding, but she wouldn’t have gotten another chance.
The bundle in her arms cried at being jostled.
She cried with him.
For the nine months that she had carried him in her young womb, the beautiful product of a ghastly, horrific act, she had vowed to herself that she would get him out. She knew what they did to the children born in this hell, how they took them and began grooming them before they could even speak properly. And she had vowed, no matter what happened, her child would not grow up in the hell she had. Somehow, someway, she would get him out or die trying.
And with the pain between her legs increasing, the weakness in her body from the aftermath of the delivery making her mind dizzy, she knew that was very likely. But if she had to die, she would die after getting him to some semblance of safety. She just had to stay away from the main roads they used, and hopefully end up on another. There had to be someone in the world who could help her.
Pausing to catch her breath, she leaned against a tree, swaying her little boy in her arms to calm him down a bit. She didn’t know a thing about being a mother, wasn’t sure if she’d ever make a good one, but there was one thing she could give her baby and she would die trying for it.
She held him for a moment, heaving in large breaths, and scanned the area for her next path.
Knowing she couldn’t rest for more than a few minutes, the risk of security already scouring the woods too high, she began to run again and run hard, the thin soles of her shoes barely any protection. She would have blisters on her feet but it would be worth it if he could be safe.
Get him out. Get him out. Get him out.
With the words repeating in her mind as a mantra, she kept jogging, feeling the wetness between her legs, noticing the woods thinning out eventually. It could mean there was civilization close by, which could mean there was help. A burst of energy filling her at the thought, she headed to the place where she could see the woods opening onto a street of some kind.
Stopping again to catch her breath, she looked around feverishly.
There was a street and one building, nothing more, and one car loitering. She recognized it as one of the complex security’s. They were patrolling, probably searching for her.
Pulling back into the shadows of the trees, turning to run again, she bumped into something hard.
Already dizzy from the weakness and dehydration and blood loss, she began to fall, her arms instinctively tightening around her bundled boy, just as two large hands clamped on her waist, steadying her.
“Easy, girl.”
At the sound of the voice, she tilted her neck up to see a tall man, probably in his late twenties, with mismatched eyes looking down at her. She’d never seen eyes like that on anyone.
“Help me,” she croaked through her dry throat, her weight leaning on him. “Help me, please.”
A visible shiver wracked his frame before he looked at her, properly looked at her.
“What do you need?” he asked, the seriousness of his tone making her feel a little more sure about her decision. She studied him as best as she could, an instinct within her telling her to trust him.
Lifting the bundle in her arms, she spoke. “Take him. Take him away from here, somewhere safe where he will grow up with love and care. Please. They’re coming for me, and he needs to be away when they find me. Please, please, please…”
The man’s mismatched eyes drifted to the baby swaddled in the thin blanket. “Is he yours?”
She nodded, her eyes tearing up again, the pain of giving him up a burden she would carry gladly for his chance at a better life.
The man stared at her then, deeper, so deep she felt he was searching her soul.
“You would trust me with your child?”
The question made her pause, but the instinct inside her, the one that had run with her baby in the first place, remained steady, unwavering.
Hugging her child one last time, she pressed a kiss to his forehead, her chin quivering, and handed him over to the man.
“I will trust you with him. But promise me—” she cried out as the pain in her insides increased, cutting off her words. She took a deep breath and continued. “Promise me you’ll keep him safe. If you can’t keep him, send him to someone who will love him. Promise me.”
Thunder rent the sky, rumbling loudly in the clouds, echoing her pain.
He held her son in the crook of his arms, his head tilted to the side as he stared at her with something close to fascination.
“I promise. He will be safe.”
Her knees buckled in relief and he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her steady with one hand while holding her baby with another. The support of his strong arm broke her then. She began to sob hysterically into the chest of this strange man, holding onto the lapels of his jacket, crying for everything she was losing and the unexpected support she had found.
“What’s your name, flamma?” he asked her softly, and she looked up at him, surprised at the word he’d used, not knowing what he meant.
“Lyla.”
“Endless night.”
Is that what it meant? Endless night? Fuck if it didn’t fit her life.
A shout from the woods made her straighten urgently.
“Please leave,’ she urged the stranger. ‘Take him. Now!”
Her eyes flitted to the round face peeking from the blankets, agony searing her as she leaned down to kiss his cheeks again, not knowing if she would ever see him again, not knowing what his fate would be but trusting the only choice she had.
“Be safe, little Xander,’ she murmured against his soft cheeks. ‘Be strong. Be loved, my beautiful baby.”
The man stayed still for a long second, watching her as she said her goodbye, before turning on his heel and walking into the darkness with the only thing she loved in the world.
