I sunk into my couch with a long sigh. Med school, the first month of it. "I want this, I want this," I reminded myself as I massaged my forehead. I looked over at my backpack with the bucket full of homework inside. I groaned and reached for the handle, dragging it over. I silently grumbled to myself about the amount of work, regardless that I headed into that career full knowing what I was getting myself into. Each textbook made a loud, slapping sound as I removed it from my back and placed it on the table in front of me.
I glanced down when my stomach growled. "Mmm. I shouldn't study on an empty stomach." Standing up, I walked the five steps it took to get to my tiny kitchen. My eyes roamed the cupboards and open shelves as if I had an abundance of choices when in truth, there wasn't. About a minute later, I settled for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I was surprised that I wasn't sick of it by now. I took a bite of it, not as annoyed as I might have sounded, although I knew at some point I would get sick of them. I quietly hummed to myself, leaning against the wall. I pulled out my ponytail and waited a moment for my curly black hair to fall around my shoulders.
As I moved toward the living room area, I glanced at my apartment kitchen window before doing a double take. I moved closer.
A woman- no, a girl, only about sixteen or seventeen, very pregnant, screaming for help as a man, packed with muscle, gripped her wrist.
I dropped my sandwich, opened my window, and slid out as I was only on the second floor. I used the fire escape to aid in getting down, but my bare feet slapping against the hard group sent a sharp pain up my legs. I ran toward the two, not entirely sure how I was to help her. "Hey!" I yelled.
The man turned just in time for me to kick his tender area.
As soon as he was on his knees, I grabbed his head in my hands and rammed my knee into his face.
He fell to the side, groaning. "You're going to regret that!" he snapped in an unfamiliar accent.
"Not gonna stick around for that long," I said, grabbing the girl's arm and pulling her inside my apartment building. Good thing my key to get into the building was still shoved in my pocket. I didn't slow until we were in the elevator. I took a few deep breaths. "I just did that; I can't believe I did that-" I shook my head and looked at the girl. Now that I was beside her, I realized that she was a good few inches taller than me. "Are you all right?"
Tears ran down her dirt, streaked cheeks. "Thank you," she whispered. Her accent was the same as the man's.
I offered a small smile. "No problem." It was then I noticed her clothes. They were torn and dirty, something that looked like gold stitching peeping out from different places. The style of the dress she wore was almost medieval. I thought back to the man before realizing that he was also wearing clothes similar to that period. "Nice dress..."
She looked down. "Not anymore..." She ran her fingers along the rips and tears, tears forming. Just then, her hand flew to her forehead, and she groaned.
I quickly lurched forward and caught her when she nearly toppled over. "Hey, stay with me now." I glanced down at her scrapes. Those did not look good- I shook my head. No, not again. Ever since I was young, I'd always wanted to be a doctor to help people. Also, because at some point, I thought at a touch or even just looking at someone, a tiny voice in my head would diagnose the person and tell me what was wrong. I slung her arm around my shoulders.
When the elevator doors opened, I swung my head back and forth, making sure no one was there before helping to my room, which thankfully was unlocked. I ensure to lock it behind us.
Once inside, I let her to my single tiny couch and helped her lay down. "Are you okay?"
She nodded.
"Did... did that man do this to you?" I whispered, glancing at her stomach.
She shook her head. "No." A small smile formed along with tears as she rubbed her stomach. "They're after my baby and I. I don't know where my husband is-"
"Husband?" My eyes slid to her left hand, where there was a ring.
She looked over. "Of course. Is there something wrong?"
"No, no, of course not. It's just, you may be very tall, but you could pass for a teenager," I said, getting up and filling a large bowl with warm water and finding a cloth. I carefully carried it back.
"I am a teenager," she said with a laugh.
I nearly dropped the bowl. "What?" A bit of water sloshed on my shirt.
She had a look of genuine confusion. "You look about my age."
"I-I'm eighteen. And you're how old, if I may ask?" I hoped she would say nineteen.
"I am seventeen."
I flinched. "Excuse me? That's a bit young to marry. No offense-"
"I was married at sixteen. Where I come from, that's normal," she whispered.
I choked on my spit. "Tha-that is quite young. Did you drop out of school?" I bit my lip, scolding myself for pestering a pregnant woman, who had been attacked, with questions.
To my surprise, she stared at me blankly before chucking. "Right, your kind is different."
I drew back a little, unsure of how to take that. Was 'your kind' a jab at my skin color as I was black? I inwardly frowned. That didn't make sense, as her skin tone was brown. "I'm not sure what you mean by kind."
She winced as I began to clean her wounds.
"Sorry." I visibly cringed at the sight of her cuts. Something rang in the back of my head, telling me they needed to be properly cleaned. I rose to my feet. "I'll be right back. I should get an alcohol swab."
"I shouldn't drink as I am pregnant. And the pain isn't that bad," she called after me.
I stopped and turned. "It-it's not a drink. It's something to disinfect wounds. You've never heard of it?"
She shook her head before pausing. "It likely is called something else where I come from."
I forced a smile. "Um, okay. Just a sec." I disappeared into my bathroom and began to rummage under my sink. I let out a deep breath. "Something's not right about her... I should probably take her to the hospital." I headed back and took a seat next to her. "You've clearly had a rough... last little bit."
She nodded.
"How long have you been on the streets?"
"Here, I am not sure. The days have blended together. A month at most-"
"A month!" I scrambled to my feet. "You need a hospital-"
She caught my wrist before I could make it far, her eyes wide with panic. "No! Please! They could find me there! They already have!"
I looked back at her. "Who could find you? Ma'am, you need a doctor. I'm only trained in basic first aid. I'm training to be a doctor but-"
"Please don't, please. They know about your world better than I do."
My heart stopped. "My world?"
"They might know to look for me there. If they get me, I'll be worse off than this, please." She shook, keeping a tight grip on my arms, tears streaming down her cheeks.
I slowly sat back down, trying to gauge what to do.
Her eyes were wide, and the only emotion I could pick up was fear in them. Even after I took a seat, she didn't release my wrist. "I beg you, please don't take me there. I-I should go-"
"No!" I took her shoulders and gently pushed her back down. "No, no, no. I won't let you go back out there, especially as you're pregnant." The next batch of words slid from my lips before I realized what I was saying. "You can stay here."
Her eyes widened. "Here?"
I nodded. "Yes. I-I'll do my best to treat you, so please don't leave, please."
She stared at me before wrapping her arms around me. "Thank you."
I nearly fell back. I slowly patted her back. "You should lay down and rest."
She nodded and allowed me to assist her in lying down.
"How far along are you?" I asked, continuing to clear her wounds.
She was quiet for a long moment. "I think about eight months... another two months," she whispered with a small smile, rubbing her stomach.
"One month. Pregnancy takes nine months," I said.
She stared at me before giving a nervous laugh. "Yes, right, nine months. I have two months left." She groaned and hit her head against the armrest, holding her stomach.
"Are you okay?" I asked, kneeling next to her.
She nodded, pushing herself to sit up before laying back down, taking rapid, deep breaths.
My heart began thumping. "Are-are you going into labor?" At a glance, the voice told me she wasn't, but I shoved it away.
She shook her head. "He's kicking." She bit her lip before letting out a long sigh. She reached for and squeezed my hand.
I leaned forward, trying not to cry out. My goodness, was she strong! "The baby kicking shouldn't hurt that like that-"
She kept a firm grip on my hand, preventing me from getting up.
"Ma'am, you need a hospital-"
She shook her head. "No, no, please. I'm fine." A moment later, she relaxed before tensing up again. She pulled my hand toward her stomach. "Feel it."
I glanced at her before placing my hand on her stomach. The kick of the child was amazingly strong. The longer I kept my hand on her stomach, the longer I became convinced that she didn't need a hospital regarding her child kicking. "I-if you change your mind, let me know."
She nodded. She took my head in both hands and gently touched her forehead against mine. "Thank you."
"No-no problem." I forced a smile before pulling my face away. "Are you hungry?"
She shook her head before adjusting how she lay there.
I shifted how I sat next to her and took her hand. There were multiple times when sitting next to my parents or siblings who were injured or sick and held her hand; it almost seemed like they improved faster.
She squeezed it and eventually drifted off to sleep.
I sat there for a while until I pulled my hand away. My energy levels seemed to take a nosedive, and my vision grew spotty for a moment. Rubbing the back of my head, I took slow breaths and relaxed my shoulder. I exhaled a long sigh before placing my hand on her stomach. I could feel the baby kicking a little. I frowned. That strength didn't seem real for a child.
Pushing myself to my feet, I headed into the kitchen, slipping behind the small wall to block me from her sight. After noticing my sandwich still lay on the floor, I scooped it up and placed it on the table. I leaned against the wall, squeezing my shoulder. "What just happened?" I glanced over my shoulder in her direction. I felt I should take her to the hospital, but I had a nagging feeling I shouldn't. Part of that was because of her begging. I picked up my phone and went into the phone app. For a long moment, I stared at the number pad before placing it onto the table. I took a seat at the table and put my head in my hands. I was scared that if I tried to take her, she would run and get hurt, but if I didn't, she wouldn't get the medical attention she needed.
I exhaled a long sigh and got up to make us something to eat and drink.