It took five such breaths, but finally he let out a brief wail. Celina heard her mother sigh in relief. If the boy could breathe on his own, there was...a good chance he would live. Celina washed the child’s body, the cold water drawing a few more weak howls of protest, then tied his umbilical cord and wrapped him in a soft, new blanket. She rocked him softly while she watched her mother with the woman. She hadn’t immediately sewn her back up. She had taken a very small blade and held it in her. “Just,” she mumbled, almost so softly I couldn’t hear, “take me away. Please. Away.” I carefully led her to the car and opened the door. She slid in, seeming exhausted and dazed. I moved around the car and got behind the wheel. As I drove off she rested her head back against the seat, but she wouldn’t respond to any of my questions. I was totally conflicted as to what I should do. Take her to the hospital? The police? I couldn’t decide, not knowing what was wrong. All I knew for sure. More

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