Roses Are Dead Like Violet In Bed

The Rush

The trip to the ER was horrible, but getting Mom into the car was even worse. She fights well for a pregnant woman. I mean, if she is still pregnant. Anyway, she kicked, bit, flung, swung, and any other fighting technique you could think of. Dad had to wrap his arms around her from behind, and slide backwards into the back seat of our BMW. Even though she knew she couldn't win against my Father, she continued to strain and hassle. I hopped into the driver's seat, and grabbed the car keys that were dangling from my Dad's pocket. Mom is still fighting, her red hair flying everywhere as she furiously flings her head from side to side.

This looks like an exorcism.

I push the key into its rightful place and turn. The engine awakens with a loud roar, then it settles down to a low hum. I grab the wheel. The vibrations pierce through my skin and find their way into my bone marrow. I've never actually driven before.

What if I crash? What if we die?

No. Now is not the time to question my abilities. My biggest concern is the life that is growing in my Mother's womb. I flip the car into reverse and head to the nearest Hospital. John Hopkins Medical Center.

The Hospital I was born in, and the Hospital that might give a name to my new sibling; Dead.

No matter how high I turned up the music, or how many times Dad put his hand over her mouth, you could hear her. Screaming. Crying. I could tell by her sobs, the reason why she didn't want the baby. She wanted to save it. To protect it. She didn't want Dad to abuse it like he abused us. How he tortured us. How he broke us.

It almost brings tears to my eyes, thinking about how she was trying to give her unborn child a better life.

By not giving it a life at all.

I was doing good. Driving wasn't as hard as it seemed. Just had to focus on the road, not be tense. Just go with the flow. Mom was calm now.

Weakened from a fight she would never win.

Worn out.

She laid still on my Father's stomach. Her breaths became more and more balanced.

I was approaching a green light, ready to cross over to the road that would bring us to the Hospital. I was happy. We were all safe. Most of us anyway, the health conditions of the baby were still unknown to us.

Boom.

Shatter.

Metal on Metal.

Tire against asphalt.

We crashed. It was going so well. I don't know what happened. The light was green, it was my time to drive. I had the right of way, It was my tur-

"Violet!" My train of thought is broken by my Dad's yell of urgency. It was faint.

Ear damage.

I bring my hand to touch the inner parts of my ear, but cringe at the feeling. I feel the liquid covering my ear. I don't have to look at my fingers to see what it is.

Blood.

"Violet! Help me!"

I turned around to look at what was going on in the back seat, but I covered my mouth in horror. I almost let a scream escape my lips, but I'm stronger than that. I reach over to pull it out, but my Father grabs my wrist. I look at him as he shakes his head.

He's right.

If I pull the shard of glass from her stomach she will surely bleed to death, and the baby will surely die. Mom was out cold so at least she couldn't feel it.