Sisters Three (Completed)

46. Morna (1/2)

The fog of the treatments obscured all sense of time until all Morna knew was the fear of the shocks and the stretches of silent waiting in between the session. Somehow the waiting was worse, locked in the small room with the sound of the water her only companion. She'd forced herself not to look out the window, hoping somehow this might appease Doctor Joseph and cease the treatments, but it never did. So she curled in her bed, staring at the wall, for no reason other than to try and dull the fear that never left her gut as she waited for that door to open and the gurney to be wheeled in.

The only way Morna had of knowing that it hadn't been months was that the size of her stomach did not grow very much. She'd check on it daily, pressing her palms to the mound, whispering to the child within. Sometime during those dark hours between the gurney, she decided that it should know its father, so that it would know him when he came for them. She thought up all the stories she could of Afton, summoning him from the corners of her mind where'd pushed him to protect herself. Now that she had a purpose, though, she found that she could carefully pull those memories out and unfold them. She told their baby about Afton's smile, the way he walked, how he rushed off to find help for his father when everyone else had given him up for dead. Then she told it about how Afton would come back for them. And as she spoke, she wasn't quite happy, but she felt a bit of the dread fall away for a few moments.

It was while she was whispering to the baby about Afton asking her to marry him that the door opened. The screech of the doors was almost like a scream to her ears, and she screwed her eyes shut, hoping against hope that if she pretended to be asleep they might leave her alone for once.

But a hand pulled at her shoulder, turning her over to face the room. She kept her eyes closed for a moment more before braving the sight of the man crouched in front of her. He was backlit by the lights in the hallway, the dark of Morna's room obscuring his face from her view. She couldn't help the whimper that escaped her lips, her arms curling around her stomach instinctively. How many more of the sessions could the baby take if Morna herself was already beginning to fade?

The man, surprisingly, didn't haul her out of bed immediately. Instead, he pulled the small box of her belongings out from under the bedsprings and flipped it open. He stuffed her extra dress and her underthings into a fabric bag, and then tied it closed in such a way that he could wear it slung over his chest and under one shoulder. Morna watched him with wide eyes, slowly adjusting to the dark in her room so that she could just make out dark hair and the white coat.

"Esmond?" she whispered. Her voice cracked, as she didn't have much use for it other than to scream as the electrical shocks tore through her body.

The man paused and then came to her side, dropping to his knees and taking her shaking hand in his. He felt warm and calm, though he must have known he wasn't allowed into her room anymore.

"I need you to get up," he said, keeping his voice low. "And put these on."

He pushed a pair of boots into her arms, and then a wool coat. As he stood and went to the door to peer into the hallway, Morna summoned her strength to push herself up and pull the boots on over her rough stockings. The laces gave her shaking fingers some trouble, but she finally tied them off and wiggled her toes in the boots. They were a tad big, but more comfortable than the thin slippers she'd been wearing since her arrival. The coat was a welcome change. She slid it over her shoulders, the oversized sleeves falling well past her hands, and the hem ending somewhere near her ankles. She almost melted into the warmth and the soft silk lining.

When she blinked her eyes back open he was approaching, his hand reaching for hers.

"I know that you're weak and tired," he said. "But I'm going to have to ask you to run, all right? Just until we get down the hallway and out of these lights." He jerked his chin toward the bulbs that flooded the tiled hall in harsh white light.

"What do you mean?" Morna asked, her legs already quivering under her weight. Her stomach grumbled empty, and she had to squeeze Esmond's palm to keep from falling.

"You have someone who cares deeply about you. When they tossed me outside after they did the treatments on you, he approached me and told me who he was," he whispered. "He wanted my help getting you out. I don't agree with what the doctor is doing at this place, so I agreed to help him. To help you. You don't deserve this."

Morna shivered. "But I can't leave. The water..."

Esmond shook his head. "You'll deal with that once we're away from this hell. You've been hurt enough, Morna. You're going to run away from here and you're going to fight for your freedom."

Tears swam into her eyes, though she was too tired to even let them drop. "I've been fighting all my life. I'm too tired."

"Then don't fight. Find another way to live with it," Esmond said. He put each of his hands on either of her shoulders, staring into her eyes. "But right now you need to get far away from Doctor Joseph and his machine so that you'll have a chance to make your own choice."

Taking a deep breath, she gave a short nod and willed strength into her legs. "I'll go."

Esmond sighed in relief, but he didn't waste much time with more talk. He took her hand, pulling her close as he checked if the halls were clear before darting into the light.

They ran almost immediately, dashing through the lights, their boots seemingly deafening on the tiled floor. Morna was surprised they didn't wake the entire ward with their noise, but no one seemed to be listening. Esmond took some path only he knew, cutting through other hallways and down stairs, all glowing bright. Morna lagged as they ran, feeling dispirited every time a new stretch of tiled floor opened up before them in an endless corridor. Esmond pressed her hand each time, and somehow a bit of his strength would flow into her and she would be able to push past the shaking in her legs and the quavering of her stomach.

After what felt like endless running, they finally reached a door Morna had never seen before. It nearly blended into the walls with its unassuming white paint, and Esmond only slowed enough to fit a key into the lock, before he threw the door open and the smell of night air filled the hall. He pushed Morna out with a hand against her back, and then followed closely, shutting the door and locking it once again.