Macie awoke in pitch blackness. Her hands were tied behind her, with what felt like thick twine cutting into her wrists. The gag over her mouth tasted like duct tape. She was lying on a cot, covered with a blanket that smelled of fabric softener. When she struggled to sit up, the cot wobbled and she laid back, hyperventilating.

            Where was she? How did she get here? The questions jumbled in her head, formed and re-formed answers. She didn’t remember anything after the gray car...the man at her door...It had to be the pro-life people , who else would do this?

            God, help me. Please, God. If you get me out of this, I promise I’ll go to church. I’ll go back to that Conley woman.

            The thought of Mary Conley reminded her of the book she’d sent to Macie, the pictures of babies reminding her that they weren’t just tissue.

            She had no idea of the time. Had she been there a few minutes? A few hours? Phil got home around six, six-thirty. If she wasn’t there, he’d take a shower and sit down to his paper. By eight, he’d be calling friends, looking for her.

            There was a squeak as a door opened, and someone entered her prison. Footsteps shuffled across the room . A face peered at her, grotesque in flickering candle light. The tape ripped from her mouth. Macie screamed.

            “Let’s not get hysterical, Mrs. Stone. No one is in the building now, so screaming won’t do you any good.” The voice was masculine, deep and threatening.

            “Please, let me go. I just work at the clinic. Please, I won’t tell anyone.”

            “But we want you to tell them, my dear, eventually.” His hand brushed her hair and a chill shot through her. “Until then, I do apologize for this ...inconvenience. If you’re a very good girl, someone will bring you breakfast tomorrow morning.” He fastened the tape over her mouth again, picked up the candle and turned to go, stopping at the door to taunt her again. “ Sleep well, Mrs. Stone.”

            The door shut and the darkness returned. I’ve got to get out of here. But her mind darted, wouldn’t stay on any thought. Macie focused on imagined movement in her belly. It’s okay, Baby. We’ll be okay. Daddy will find us. He has to. But what if he doesn’t?

            A rattle overhead sent her heart pounding. She froze and listened. Pipes. That’s all it is.Just the heating kicking in. Her throat ached and her eyes felt as though gravel lined the lids.

            What if Phil doesn’t find us? Maybe they’ll keep us here until they find a place to hide our bodies, then they’ll kill us. What if Mary Conley’s right? What if there is a hell? What if they kill us and I go to hell?

            Then the cramp tore through her abdomen. Oh, please God. Not now.

            She worked at the bonds on her wrists until she felt something wet there. Blood. The twine had cut through. Maybe that would make it easier to slide her hands out. Mace pulled her hands back and forth against the pain. Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on. If anything, the

ropes grew tighter. Finally she let her body go limp on the cot, breathing heavily.

            Please, God. Make the pain go away. Make the baby be all right. Make—

            Something moved on the floor at her side. Rustled. She held her breath. Nothing...Wait, there it was again. Then it hit the bed, a slight jostle, and she felt it on the blanket, over her legs to her chest. It just sat there. Macie was glad for the darkness. She waited for the rat to bite.