It's been six years since the finale of Pretty Little Liars. It's been five since Ashley Benson was kidnapped. The same four walls have kept her prisoner over the years, never to escape, never to see the outside world. The heavily-locked door holds...
Anthony finally leaves the room, the sound of the locks clicking to finalize it. As usual, he came to rape me, to use my body for his own sadistic form of pleasure. And though it's something horrible on its own, there's another factor that makes it that much worse; I'm heavily pregnant.
I can't be sure of exactly how far along I am, considering I fell pregnant one of the times Anthony raped me what I'm guessing is around nine months ago now. I don't think my belly can get much bigger, and I'm getting to the stage of uncomfortableness where it feels something has to happen soon. I don't know if it's just my mind and body playing tricks on me, but for the past day or so I've been feeling what I think might be light contractions. There's not really a pattern to their occurance, but I could still be in the early stages of labour.
I'm horrified, not only to give birth alone in this concrete room, but also to raise a baby given the circumstances. I just want to do as much good as I can for my baby, I want him or her to feel loved and nurtured despite this desolate life.
I let out a deep breath as yet another contraction rolls through, although this time a little stronger than the last few. I'm nearly positive I'm going into active labour, and by how it seems so far, it's going to be long and slow.
13 Hours Later
Grabbing fistfuls of the blanket I laid on the floor, I give another push with the strength I get from telling myself that it's bringing me closer to finally giving birth. I've been labouring for what seems like forever now, yet I still don't know how close I am to actually getting the baby out.
A bloodcurdling scream fills the room, and it definitely hasn't been the first to escape my mouth. I'm in so much pain, I'm exhausted beyond any point I've been before, and I don't know how far off it is until I have the baby. I just want to give up.
Despite what I want, my body still knows exactly what it wants, and at my next contraction I find myself pushing again. I throw my head back in pain as the tears pour down my face, both from sheer pain and frustration. I don't feel like I'm getting anywhere.
"Come on," I cry to nothing in particular, not knowing how to cope anymore. The pain is too much for me to push, but the pain won't stop unless I push and get the baby out.
In the corner of the concrete room, I move myself into a squatting position with my back against the wall. I feel like I've tried everything, but at this point I'm just trying it all again. Blood trickles from between my legs and onto the blanket, reminding me of why I chose not to give birth on the bed.
Another contraction, sending my body into a state of pain I didn't know was possible. I try my hardest to push as hard as I can through it, reaching my hands down and feeling for if I've almost got the baby's head out. To my utter frustration and disappointment, I haven't.
What must be another hour or so goes by before I make any notable progress. By this time, my throat is raw from screaming and my body feels like it's being torn apart from the inside out. I've tried every birthing position possible in hopes that it'll be the one to get my baby out, however none seem to quite help in the way I expect. But eventually, when I reach down in my delirious state to feel if anything's changed, my hands are met by the head of a baby. This gives me a surge of strength, and I give another push while holding the baby's head.
"You're almost there, you've got this." I say to myself through gritted teeth. I can't help but scream again as I feel the shoulders come out, but knowing how close I am to being done with this gives me hope. With more to grab onto, I try and pull my baby out, my eyes filling with more tears as I do so. Finally, I feel the baby slide out of me, a big gush of blood and other birthing fluids following.
I immediately burst into tears as I bring my blood-covered screaming baby up to my chest, relieved that I did it. I sob lightly in the corner of the cold room, looking down at the tiny infant in my arms. Once I've calmed down a little, I look and realize it's a girl.
"Lennon," I breathe, beginning to cry again. Looking down at my baby girl, with a sparse dusting of light hair and round little cheeks, I realize that I'm already willing to die for her. This life that I brought her into is less than safe, but I'm never going to let anything hurt her.
End of Flashback
"Oh Lennon," I say playfully, reaching up into the cupboard "Look what I found."
"What's that Mommy?" She asks, pointing to the jar of Nutella in my hand.
"Come over here, you'll love it." I tell her, grabbing a spoon from the drawer and getting a little bit out. Lennon's hesitant to try it once I give it to her, looking sort of disgusted by the sticky brown substance.
"Just try it, I promise it's delicious." I urge, licking some off my finger. Finally, she gets enough courage to take a lick, and by the look on her face she's not disappointed.
"Yummy!" Lennon exclaims, a bit of Nutella on her upper lip.
"See, I knew you'd like it." I say.
"More?" She asks, holding her spoon out.
"Just a little bit." I reply.
"Thank you!" Lennon grins excitedly, her blue eyes gleaming.
"No problem Len," I smile "I love you."
"I love you too Momma."
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