The baby screamed. Its tiny voice quivered with pain. Brandy
jumped to her feet. Her algebra book thumped on the floor. She'd fallen asleep doing her homework, but the infant's
sobs weren't a dream. The cries echoed throughout the house.
"No," Brandy sobbed. She couldn't
stand another night plagued with the wails. She wanted to hold the baby, tell it everything was alright, tell it she
was sorry.
She didn't know if the baby was a girl or boy, and it didn't matter to her. It hadn't ever
mattered. The hiccupping wails continued, reverberating inside her mind. Brandy pressed her fists against her
ears, willing the sound away, but it grew louder. Her heart thumped in her chest. She had to find the baby.
She threw open her closet, finding rumples of clothes on top of shoes and jammed hangers full of sweatshirts
and sweaters. There was no baby. She dropped to her knees and swept an arm under the bed.
Someone had hidden the child, taken it from where it was safe. Brandy swatted at the tears swelling in her eyes.
She had to find some way to comfort the infant. She crawled along the floor, searching the corners and crevices.
"Honey, I hear you," Brandy whispered. "I'm coming."
Brandy jumped to her feet and yanked her bedroom door
open. The darkness of the house beyond blinded her for a moment, but she trudged ahead, down the hall and to the right.
The baby continued to scream its newborn wail. Brandy hit the bathroom switch with her fist. The lights burst to life.
She tore open the shower curtain. Nothing but the colorful fish decals were in the tub. The doors to
the linen closet flew open in her hands, revealing only freshly laundered towels, washcloths, and rows of toothpaste
and shampoos.
On the way to the kitchen Brandy heard her mother call to her, but she didn't stop.
She turned the overhead light on. The wood cupboards gleamed. She had let the child sob uncomforted for too many
nights, this night she had to hold the infant, soothe it.
"Brandy, what are you doing?"
Brandy whirled
around to face her mother. Anne's short hair was tasseled. One red strand drooped into her face. She brushed
it away.
"Honey, you look terrible," Anne stepped toward Brandy. "Are you all right?"
"No! Don't come any closer!" Brandy said. The infant wailed on. "Don't you hear it?"
Anne
squinted her eyes and wrinkled her nose with confusion. "Hear what, honey? Come on back to bed, you' re scaring
me."
Brandy turned from her mother. Fear of her own slammed her like a tidal wave. What
if she couldn't find the child? What if she couldn't stop the crying?
The doctors and even her
boyfriend had told her it would just go away, that it could be erased with a simple slice of a scalpel, but it hadn't
gone away. The baby was still there, only now Brandy couldn't reach it. She couldn't comfort the child's heart
wrenching wails. What had she done?
She had believed others over the feelings in her heart.
She had allowed fear to cloud her thoughts. Now she was cursed with that decision, not able to ever make it go away
or to correct it. But she had to correct it; she had to get the baby back.
The front door stood
ahead of her. Brandy threw it open. The damp night air washed over her face and blew back her long, red hair.
Would the child have had hair like hers? The cement walk felt like ice on her bare feet. Her skin slapped the
rough surface as she darted from side to side, looking behind the bushes surrounding the small stoop. No one was there,
but the baby cried on.
Hot tears burned into Brandy's cheeks. Her skin was raw; her heart ached with
a tormenting pain she had never felt before.
She heard her mother calling from somewhere behind, but Anne
sounded so distant. Sharp stones bit into Brandy's heels as she skipped across the sidewalk. Someone had to know
how to help her find the child. Someone had to have answers.
The asphalt felt smooth under her
toes. She heard someone shout. Her mother called her
name.
Brandy spun. Street lights streaked before her then
she saw horror in her mother's eyes. Had someone found the baby, was it all right?
The howling tires
echoed through Brandy's mind. She turned back.
The brightness of headlights burned into her eyes. Metal
slammed her legs and chest, snapping her head back. The stars in the sky seemed to brighten above her as if she flew
closer to them for a moment. Fire tore through her and then all was dark.
The baby stopped crying.
Comforting warmth
enveloped Brandy. She opened her eyes and the baby was there, a little girl so small and perfect with ten fingers and
itty bitty toes. Her tiny body was cradled in hands so big but gentle. Light glowed from all around. Brandy
reached out to the child.
"You've made your choice," a voice said.
Brandy wondered if it was the person holding her child, but
she couldn't see a face only the silhouette for bright light glowed strongly from behind the figure. The baby blinked
blue-gray eyes in amazement at the person who cradled it.
"It can not be reversed," the voice said.
"But I want her now. Please, I didn't know."
A hand brushed lovingly over Brandy's cheek. "What's done is done. Your child is with me now. But you can not be."
"I can't go on like this. Please!" Brandy cried.
The sobs wrenched pain from her soul. Despair didn't
begin to describe the awful hollowness she felt. But her child had stopped crying. The baby curled its little
fingers into relaxed fists. Its eyes drooped and then the small mouth opened in a perfect, tiny yawn, content as
it nestled down to sleep. The person cradled the infant against his chest. The baby would be okay.
A siren screeched through the silence. The stars were in the coal black sky above Brandy again. The
pain was back. Her bones hurt in a strange burning sensation that didn't seem quite real.
Anne appeared
above her, her eyes still wide with horror. "Oh my God, Brandy! Brandy, help is coming."
But Brandy
knew help was already there. Her child was safe even if it was far from her reach. She could only hope she would
hold her daughter again one day.
