Chapter 7

I gently caressed my slightly rounded belly, and for the first time, it wasn't because of hate or uncertainty.

"Baby," I whispered, as if talking to him, but also making a vow to myself. "You need to stay strong. When the time comes, we'll reclaim everything that's rightfully ours."

*****

The moment my water broke, I was slumped over the table, eating cold bread.

Out of nowhere, a sharp, tearing pain stabbed through my belly, and warm fluid soaked my thin pants in an instant. I didn't have time to react before my body crumpled to the floor.

I used every bit of strength I had, crawling to the door and pounding on the rickety wooden door.

"Help!" I called out.

My voice was as faint as a kitten's whimper.

I have no idea how long I lay there before the lady from next door, who usually acted like I didn't exist, finally stuck her head out. When she spotted the mess on the floor, she cursed and grudgingly called for an ambulance.

The hospital lights were harsh and blinding.

I lay on the cold delivery bed, sweat and tears blurring my vision. The contractions came in relentless waves, threatening to drown out my sanity.

"Where's her family? The mother's bleeding out. We need someone to sign the forms." The nurse's urgent voice echoed in my ears.

I clenched the sheets so tightly, my nails dug into my palms. Through clenched teeth, I muttered, "I'm alone."

As my mind started to blur, right before I passed out, one thing kept echoing in my head.

I couldn't die.

My baby couldn't be left without a mom.

*****

When I woke up again, it was to the piercing sound of a newborn's cry.

I turned my head and saw a tiny, wrinkled face, flushed and red, bundled up right beside me. The nurse brought him over, placing him gently next to me. "Congratulations, it's a boy. Six pounds, two ounces," she said.

I reached out with a trembling hand and softly touched his cheek.

He was warm and soft.

A wave of unfamiliar, overwhelming emotion crashed into me. This was my child, my flesh and blood, the only family I had in this world.

I named him Tommy Walters, named after a historical soldier.

I hoped he lived a safe and peaceful life, and every time I say his name, it would remind me of the fight I would never forgive nor forget.

But reality came crashing down on me.

Because I couldn't afford the hospital bill, three days after giving birth, I had to carry Tommy back to that cold, damp basement. There was no hot soup, no supplements, just cold bread and plain water, same as always.

Tommy was hungry and wailing for milk, his cries tearing at my heart. But I didn't have enough money for the cheapest baby formula.

I fumbled with my clothes, trying to nurse him the way the nurse had taught me. But my body was so weak, my milk was thin and barely there. Tommy tried so hard to nurse, but he couldn't get enough, his little face turning red with frustration.

As I watched him wail, so hungry and helpless, it tore my heart to shreds. More than once, I found myself clutching him on that freezing floor, drowning in despair, wondering if it would be better if we'd died.

But then he'd cry out, his tiny fists waving blindly until they held onto my finger. And that pure, absolute trust and dependence would drag me back from the brink, refusing to let me give in.

I couldn't surrender.

For Tommy, I had to keep living, like weed that refused to die.

*****

During the coldest months of winter, the basement was like an icebox with no heating at all. I wrapped Tommy up in every thick piece of clothing I could find while I just wore a thin sweater, clutching him tight and huddling under the covers.

Most nights, I'd wake up shivering, my hands and feet cracked and burning from frostbite, itching and hurting all night long.

To make ends meet, I'd leave Tommy with the woman next door. She was tough on the outside, but soft-hearted underneath. I worked myself to the bone, hustling from one job to the next all over the city.

I'd spend hours in restaurant kitchens, scrubbing dishes until my hands were raw and swollen from the grease and dish soap.

At office buildings, I'd be on my knees, polishing the spotless marble floors, all while overhearing those well-dressed white-collar workers gossiping about the latest luxury handbags.

Every now and then, I'd catch bits of gossip floating my way.

"Look at that cleaner. She's so young, and already has a kid."

"Tsk. She must be pretty loose. Bet she doesn't even know who the baby's dad is."

"And she thinks she can pass the bar? As if! Women like her should know their place."

I'd keep my head down, pretending I didn't hear a thing, and hurry up my work, trying to slip away as fast as I could.

Back in the basement, the moment I closed the door, all the toughness I'd been holding onto fell apart. I clutched Tommy close, buried my face in his blanket, and wept in silence.

I couldn't let Tommy see my weakness.

I was the only one he had.

At night, after Tommy fell asleep, that was the only time I had for myself. I'd switch on a secondhand lamp I'd picked up at a flea market, and under its warm, yellow glow, I'd open up my copy of "Fundamentals of Jurisprudence."