Given

by Ashlynn Monroe

  “Sorry,” Brax grumbled at the man, but he never took his eyes off Krista’s face. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated.

  “Don’t be sorry. This is my fault, not yours.”

  “I know I’ve been…distant.” As he said the last word he looked away, guiltily. She said nothing. He still wasn’t looking at her. “I’ve just been so conflicted. I’m happy it’s mine, but I’m also upset.”

  “What do you mean?” she questioned, anger in her voice.

  “Sir, we need you to stop talking now. You’re upsetting her. You don’t want to make the situation worse, do you?”

  “No.” He sat back, saying nothing, but still gripping her hand.

  “Butt out,” she growled at the paramedic. His eyes flew open in surprise. She squeezed Brax’s hand. “Tell me, now!” she ordered.

  He grinned a little. “Fire. That’s what I love about you. I love you, Kristannie. So much that it kills me to know I gave you this child. If this is a girl, it’ll destroy us both. I’ve been so worried that we’ll lose the child when it’s older. I didn’t even worry about what might happen now. You made the doctor swear not to tell us the gender for fear we’d tell you. It’s been eating me alive every night. I have terrible nightmares about my daughter being snatched away and thrown into a crowd of crazed men. I couldn’t do it, couldn’t allow them to take her away.”

  “I know just how you feel,” Krista whimpered, fighting her tears. “That’s why I wouldn’t let the doctor tell me. I didn’t want to lose my hope for a boy.”

  The radio crackled loudly. “You need to bring her to door ten. We have to save this baby girl. The mother is arriving under a code red, so treat this as an emergency,” ordered the disembodied, static-filled voice over the radio as it spoke to the driver. The radio was so loud they heard the words clearly. The siren blared and the ambulance lurched forward as it picked up speed. Krista’s eyes filled with tears. She noticed Braxton’s lip tremble.

  “Denyse, for my mother.” He spoke so quietly she wasn’t sure she heard him correctly.

  “All right, and Alicia for mine, Alicia Denyse,” she replied.

  He grinned, but there was sadness in his expression. “Why does your mother get top billing?”

  “Because I’m the one strapped to the gurney,” she retorted.

  “Touché, my lady. Okay, you win. Now I have to learn to deal with the fact she belongs to the state.”

  “I’ve been dealing with that for a lot longer than you, it doesn’t get easier. I’ve known since my teens that if I have a daughter she’ll be taken away.”

  “I never thought about it before the paternity test told us I was the father.” He spoke quietly, and she could hear the apology in his voice.

  Krista reached up and touched his cheek. “We’ll get through this. We have ten years to love her.”

  “Ten years won’t be enough.”

  “We’ll have to make it enough.”

  The ambulance came to a stop. Fervor erupted as the commotion began. She couldn’t see Brax as he was pushed aside for the rushing paramedics and doctors. They ran with her through one white, sterile hall after another. Hospital security flanked the gurney, and she heard her own private guards shouting as they caught up with the rushing medical workers. The elevator doors remained open and the moment they all crammed inside, she looked around frantically for Braxton.

  “Where’s Braxton Bray?” she questioned the paramedic she recognized.

  “He’ll have to wait until we have you stabilized and roomed. He’s been detained to fill out paperwork.”

  “I want him with me, please.” She hated begging, but her panic and terror grew to overwhelming proportions.

  One of her guards, a man she knew from the compound, stepped closer to the gurney. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Miss.”

  His words brought her only slight relief. “Then get Brax here as quickly as you can.”

  He looked at the other guard and nodded. “We’ll do our utmost.”

  She sighed. She’d take what she could get. She’d spent so much time secluded and under guard, the sensation of being in the hospital was disturbing. She’d come to think of her six’s home as her home, and right now she just wanted to return there.

  The expediency didn’t end after they had her transferred to a hospital bed. She was in a private room, and each time her door opened, she saw her guards silently keeping watch outside the room. There was a twisted comfort in knowing they were there. She waited, still no Brax. A nurse came in and took her vitals.

  “I’m your nurse this evening. My name is Brad. I’ll be with you until five AM, and then Richard will take over.”

  “Where’s the man who rode here with me?” Krista asked. She didn’t bother to introduce herself to Brad.

  He gave her a nervous and surprised look. “You’ll have to speak to the doctor about visitors.”

  Krista’s heart pounded in her chest. “So I assume that means he’s not allowed to come in here?”

  “You need to stay calm. I’ll see about having the doctor come and speak with you.”

  Krista nodded, feeling ill. What would she do if she never saw him—them—again? She hadn’t considered they’d pull her from her six so abruptly. “Please have him come soon. I really would relax if I’m allowed to see Braxton.” Brad put an IV needle in her arm. “Is that really necessary?” she questioned with irritation.

  “Yes, if we run into an emergency we need to know you’re prepped. This is just going to be sterile water to keep the vein open.” He walked around to her other arm and put an automated blood pressure cuff on her arm. Another nurse came in and handed him a tray. “This will only hurt for a moment,” Brad said as he uncapped the needle and flicked out the air bubbles.

  “What’s that for?” Krista asked with worry.

  “Steroids, for the baby’s lungs, just in case,” he replied.

  Just in case… She began to panic. Do they think I’ll go into labor early? Krista wanted to ask, but was afraid of the answer, so she remained silent. She looked at the bandage on her arm. They’d removed her tracker as a precaution as soon as she was settled in her room. If they defibrillated her for any reason the tracker could short circuit, interfering with lifesaving procedures. Her heart ached. She didn’t want to lose Braxton’s baby. She’d love any child that was hers, but knowing the daughter she carried belonged to Brax made her love for the baby even more intense.

  The nurse gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “I’ll do my best for you.”

  The way he said the words didn’t fill her with hope. She shivered. He mistook the gesture and added another warmed blanket to her bed. It didn’t dispel the chill in her soul. Were they trying to find an excuse to take her child away and relocate her? She’d seen enough government finagling to believe the worst.

  The doctor didn’t come. Darkness fell outside and Krista sat staring at the window, afraid and alone. Deep down, she worried about the drastic change her life had taken. She’d been helpless to stop the terrible turn of events from unfolding.

  Sleep was a long time in coming. When she finally fell asleep, her hand on the swell where her child lay, she dreamed of men in white coats ripping her baby from her womb and leaving her for dead. A clattering noise woke her. Krista cried out as she opened her eyes.

  “I’m sorry I woke you,” said a different nurse quietly. He was a bit older than her night nurse had been, but his eyes were kind.

  “When do I get to talk to the doctor?” she asked, ignoring basic social pleasantries entirely.

  “He should be here to see you this afternoon.”

  Krista remembered his name was Richard. “Please, Richard, I really need to talk to him about my visitor situation. Could you at least let him know I’d like to see the father? Please.”

  Richard looked sad. “I’ll talk to him. Here’s your breakfast. You’re on a special diet, so you won’t be offered the menu, but if there’s anything special you’d like, I’ll see if I c
an get an approval.”

  She nodded, but said nothing else. Richard changed her IV bag and left without another word. Krista looked at the tray. Yellow, overcooked eggs and apple juice was all she’d been given. She drank the juice and ignored the eggs. Steve’s cooking had spoiled her. She’d become accustomed to her new life, and if she had to be Given, she wanted to return to her men.

  There was no TV in the room, the only sound was the dripping IV and the low hum of the monitors. Krista lay looking up at the ceiling, feeling hopeless.

  A man entered the room with a mop and bucket. He wore a white t-shirt and jeans. She noticed the blue sanitary booties on his feet and a badge around his neck. Krista went back to staring hopelessly out the window. She didn’t pay the custodian much attention until the hair on the back of her neck stood up. When she glanced over at him, he was gazing at her in a way that made her entirely uncomfortable. Fear made her put her hand lightly on the call button, just in case.

  “Are you here to mop or stare?” she questioned sassily.

  “I’m sorry,” he replied, still gazing at her. “I’ve waited a very long time to see you again.”

  She’d almost pressed the button when the word “again” caught her attention. “What do you mean ‘again’?” Krista knew she should just press the call button, but curiosity stopped her.

  “I’m here to help you, Kristannie. I’m your father.”

  Her mouth fell open and she fought the bubble of hysterical laughter that almost erupted. “I don’t have a father,” she replied, glaring at the interloper.

  “You did, when you were little. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me, muffin,” the stranger said. There was true sorrow in his voice.

  Her mouth gaped open at his admission. She wasn’t sure how to respond to him or his foodie nickname. No one had ever called her muffin. The slightest ghost of a memory tingled in her mind, but she blew it away, like a wisp of smoke.

  “I’ll call security. Two highly trained guards are right outside, all I have to do is scream once and they’ll be in here.”

  “I know.” He spoke calmly, but she could see the fear in his eyes. “I’m risking a lot for you, but I’ve been waiting months for a chance like this.”

  “I don’t remember ever having a father. I don’t know why you’d make such a cruel claim, but I’m not an idiot.”

  “I know you aren’t, muffin. You were a smart kid. Let me show you some proof.” He took a step closer and she held the call button up, showing him her finger was hovering above it, ready to notify the nurse’s station she needed help. He held up his hands. “I’m just going to get my wallet out of my back pocket and show you a picture. Okay?”

  She didn’t respond. He slowly moved his right hand back, keeping the left where she could see it. He brought a worn leather wallet out, taking a few steps in her direction, while holding the old leather out toward her.

  “Take it, look at my information. There’s a picture in there, just one. Take it out of the plastic and give it a good look.”

  She didn’t move. He shook his arm and she glared at him, but again, her natural inquisitiveness won and she snatched the billfold out of the man’s hand. His ID claimed his name was Todd Damiani and he was a forty-five year old Canadian resident. She flipped it and there was a picture, one that made her heart pound, the monitor attached to her made a bleep. He glanced nervously at the door.

  “I’ll be back later. Calm down. If you can’t make your body cooperate, there’s no way we can pull off an escape. Keep the wallet for now. I hope you’ll believe me, and if you don’t, everything I’ve worked for has been for nothing. I failed you once. I won’t do it again.”

  He hurried out of the room, keeping his head down. A nurse came rushing in a moment later. Krista tucked the wallet under the blanket quickly. Escape…is it even possible in my condition? “Are you all right?” the nurse asked as he rushed over to the machines and began checking settings while making adjustments.

  “I’m fine. I’m just worried about seeing Braxton Bray. Please talk to the doctor for me. Make sure he knows this is counter-productive to my recuperation.”

  The man nodded and left. Krista took a deep breath and pulled the soft leather from its hiding place. A father—she’d never imagined she had one who cared.

  Just because he showed her an ID claiming they shared the same last name didn’t make him her father, she reminded herself. Flipping back to the picture, she took a few calming deep breaths, forcing herself not to react.

  Her mother’s face, she was sure this was her mother. The woman held a little girl in her arms. It was a picture of her and her mother; she couldn’t have been older than two. She pulled the picture out of the plastic. There was more to it; it was folded to fit in the plastic rectangle. She flipped the hidden flap and a younger version of her visitor smiled back at her. She dropped the wallet and the machine went crazy. Krista scrambled to grab the wallet and picture, sliding it all under her leg. She lay back, breathing as deeply as she could.

  A man in a white coat rushed in. “I’m Doctor Barnes,” he said as he moved to the monitor and began punching in codes. He turned to the nurse who’d trailed in after him. It wasn’t Richard. “Have the requested information printed out. I want to compare the last hour with last night’s readings.”

  “Yes, doctor,” the man mumbled.

  “I’m fine. I’m just panicked because you won’t let Braxton visit me,” she lied. Maybe her shock would serve her in getting her visitation with the man she loved.

  “That’s not advisable at this time, Miss Damiani.”

  The doctor left without another word. Krista’s heart sank. She knew she couldn’t risk looking at the picture again until she’d had some time to think about the revelation; she did indeed have a father, and he cared about her enough to carry a picture of their little family around in his wallet all these years. The picture was very faded and creased. She could tell it wasn’t a recent addition to his wallet. She slipped the picture out of its hiding place. Flipping it over, she read the feminine handwriting. Her heart skipped a beat, she was looking at her mother’s delicate cursive. Although she hadn’t been able to read it as a very young child, she’d loved watching her mother write, seeing the artful loops and lovely tilts as each letter magically came from her pen. It simply read Our First Family Portrait, October 2017.

  That was just six months before the plague. She’d been just over two and a half years old. Why can’t I remember having a father? Her mind raced as she asked herself the fundamental question. Who am I? She began doubting her own memories. Muffin. The nickname sparked something, a feeling of love and security. She remembered her blanket, it had pictures of muffins and she’d taken it everywhere with her until the day they’d come and taken her away without a single possession, including her blanket, due to the fear of germs. It had been early, before the disease had done the worst of its damage.

  Krista knew in her heart, no DNA test required, that she’d met her long-lost father. Now she just had to figure out what he wanted to do. In her condition, she couldn’t exactly jump up and run out of the hospital. Her baby meant too much to her. Even if they took her child away, at least she would be alive if Krista stayed.

  Hours passed. Her nurse came in and she asked to use the phone, she’d memorized all the men’s cellphone numbers, starting with Brax’s, just in case. The nurse shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, you’re not allowed to use the phone for security reasons.”

  I call bullshit! Her mind screamed, but her mouth remained silent. She had a feeling things were going to get worse before they improved. She was under medical arrest, and her odds of ever again having back what she’d called her life since leaving the protection facility felt slim. She realized her child was better off dead than living the life she had. Her heart blossomed with love for her daughter.

  She watched the male nurse working, resentfully. He was as much a jailer as the guards at the protection facility had been.
The nurse left. A few minutes later, she heard the door. When she looked up it was her father, still dressed as a janitor.

  “Do you believe me?” He went right to the point.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Do you want to stay, Kristannie?”

  “Hell no, I don’t want to lose my baby,” she told him angrily.

  What they were doing made her want to scream and rail against the doctors, the politicians, men in general, even Braxton. He should’ve found a way to come to her. She had a feeling they’d be placing her with a new six and stealing her baby if she stayed. Too many red flags were in the air for her to accept that the authorities truly had her best interest at heart.

  “I’m coming back at midnight. That’s when there’s the largest shift change, including your guards. I know you’re worried about your baby, but we’ll get you to a hospital in Winnipeg, and you’ll be safe there. The women’s free immigration law provides you automatic citizenship and protection the moment you pass into Canada. I’ve spent years working with the survivors’ network, helping families flee to protect their daughters, and assisting women trying to escape The Giving.”

  “I don’t understand. If you knew I was alive, why didn’t you save me? Why did you leave my mother?”

  “We don’t have time for this now,” he said, glancing nervously at the door. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I didn’t leave your mother. I was incarcerated. I know what you’re going through and how it feels to be in jail, muffin. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, but my connection in your protection facility feared approaching you because you were so quick to obey the rules. She feared you’d report her as a snitch and then all the good she could do for so many other girls would be lost. Believe me, we had some heated words, but in the end she’d made up her mind. I’m sorry, Kristannie.”

  “Krista, you can call me Krista,” she told him, feeling a bit pathetic. This man was her father, and yet she felt the need for such a basic introduction. Her anger spent, she just looked at the tall, dark-haired man. There was silver at his temples, and she noticed deep worry lines etched in his brow. Did fear for me, a daughter he barely knows, put the lines there? He hadn’t abandoned her, but instead had been away by force, not choice. Somehow, it wasn’t as comforting as it should be, and she felt sort of deflated. So much had been taken from her by the cruelness of fate.