rhythm as the blood now dripping steadily from her skirts.
Patsy rushed to her side, holding her weight as she tried once more to stand.
"Tom she's sick, she's having your child. Please have mercy."
Tom turned his attention to his younger sister, slapping his palm across her cheek. Annabel shrank further into the wall, wanting to help but frozen in terror.
"Shut up," he growled. "Women have babies all the time, why did my wife have to be so WEAK!"
"It's not the same this time Tom, let her rest I beg you!"
He laughed, grabbing Hetty's shoulders and shoved her to the floor. Blood gushed from beneath her dress, soaking the floor. Annabel screamed, covering her face. Patsy knelt at Hetty's side, looking more desperate than ever. Tom bent down at the same time, flinging Patsy towards the wall where she fell against the water tub with a metallic clang. Gripping his wife's chin, he put his nose against hers.
"Clean your mess up and deliver me a son within the hour. If you haven't washed my clothes and served my dinner by the time I get back, I'll make you wish you'd never been born."
The sight of Hetty, her face set in pain, tears streaming down her cheeks, made something in Annabel snap. She slid the heavy water jug off the table next to her cowering form and rose to her feet. Drawing back the jug she smashed it hard into Tom's temple making him collapse to the ground. Patsy climbed indifferently over him to once again examine Hetty, whose legs were now curled at an odd angle beneath her body, her face paler than ever. As Annabel watched, Hetty's eyes rolled back into her head and she shook violently. Annabel seized the wet shirt once more, placing it back into position over Hetty's hot skin, holding down her shoulders as she tried to arch herself away from the pain.
"Come on Hetty," Patsy cried. "You have to try."
Annabel saw the tendons in Hetty's neck straining, until she thought they must snap clean in two, as she tried with all her might to deliver this child for her disgusting husband.
Patsy shook almost as much as Hetty. She was covered from head to toe in blood and wild with panic. Annabel's head snapped up as she saw another male figure filling the open doorway. She bent over Hetty in a protective stance but when she looked at him again Annabel noticed he looked nothing like Tom or his father. He was a tall man with a slim but strong frame. From the blonde hair that fell over his eyes, she knew this must be Daniel.
His eyes darted from Hetty's broken form to Patsy and finally to Tom, unconscious on the floor. Daniel checked his brother's pulse, if anything looking slightly disappointed when he found it, then scooped him up and carried him outside, closing the door behind him.
Hetty's body was growing weaker by the second. She had lost too much blood already and was still losing more. Daniel re-entered the room a couple of minutes later, his arms laden with roughly cut blankets. Hetty strained with every ounce of energy she had left, screaming louder than Annabel thought possible.
After what felt like hours, the baby finally slid into Patsy's waiting grasp. Daniel took the child from his sister, cradling its head in one large hand, staining his skin with blood. A beautiful high-pitched wail escaped from the infants purple lips. They all smiled in relief as Daniel wrapped it quickly in another blanket, gently rubbing its back with strong, sure hands that told of experience. Patsy sliced the cord with a kitchen knife and continued to tend to the mother. Hetty tried desperately to lift her head enough to see her child, yet no longer had the physical strength to do so. Daniel, noticing her struggle, held the baby against Hetty's chest so she could look upon its face for the first time. She smiled as if oblivious to her suffering and stroked a tender finger over the baby's tiny head.
"Beautiful," Hetty whispered, and then her head fell back with another groan.
Daniel snatched up the child in concern. Hetty's
Patsy rushed to her side, holding her weight as she tried once more to stand.
"Tom she's sick, she's having your child. Please have mercy."
Tom turned his attention to his younger sister, slapping his palm across her cheek. Annabel shrank further into the wall, wanting to help but frozen in terror.
"Shut up," he growled. "Women have babies all the time, why did my wife have to be so WEAK!"
"It's not the same this time Tom, let her rest I beg you!"
He laughed, grabbing Hetty's shoulders and shoved her to the floor. Blood gushed from beneath her dress, soaking the floor. Annabel screamed, covering her face. Patsy knelt at Hetty's side, looking more desperate than ever. Tom bent down at the same time, flinging Patsy towards the wall where she fell against the water tub with a metallic clang. Gripping his wife's chin, he put his nose against hers.
"Clean your mess up and deliver me a son within the hour. If you haven't washed my clothes and served my dinner by the time I get back, I'll make you wish you'd never been born."
The sight of Hetty, her face set in pain, tears streaming down her cheeks, made something in Annabel snap. She slid the heavy water jug off the table next to her cowering form and rose to her feet. Drawing back the jug she smashed it hard into Tom's temple making him collapse to the ground. Patsy climbed indifferently over him to once again examine Hetty, whose legs were now curled at an odd angle beneath her body, her face paler than ever. As Annabel watched, Hetty's eyes rolled back into her head and she shook violently. Annabel seized the wet shirt once more, placing it back into position over Hetty's hot skin, holding down her shoulders as she tried to arch herself away from the pain.
"Come on Hetty," Patsy cried. "You have to try."
Annabel saw the tendons in Hetty's neck straining, until she thought they must snap clean in two, as she tried with all her might to deliver this child for her disgusting husband.
Patsy shook almost as much as Hetty. She was covered from head to toe in blood and wild with panic. Annabel's head snapped up as she saw another male figure filling the open doorway. She bent over Hetty in a protective stance but when she looked at him again Annabel noticed he looked nothing like Tom or his father. He was a tall man with a slim but strong frame. From the blonde hair that fell over his eyes, she knew this must be Daniel.
His eyes darted from Hetty's broken form to Patsy and finally to Tom, unconscious on the floor. Daniel checked his brother's pulse, if anything looking slightly disappointed when he found it, then scooped him up and carried him outside, closing the door behind him.
Hetty's body was growing weaker by the second. She had lost too much blood already and was still losing more. Daniel re-entered the room a couple of minutes later, his arms laden with roughly cut blankets. Hetty strained with every ounce of energy she had left, screaming louder than Annabel thought possible.
After what felt like hours, the baby finally slid into Patsy's waiting grasp. Daniel took the child from his sister, cradling its head in one large hand, staining his skin with blood. A beautiful high-pitched wail escaped from the infants purple lips. They all smiled in relief as Daniel wrapped it quickly in another blanket, gently rubbing its back with strong, sure hands that told of experience. Patsy sliced the cord with a kitchen knife and continued to tend to the mother. Hetty tried desperately to lift her head enough to see her child, yet no longer had the physical strength to do so. Daniel, noticing her struggle, held the baby against Hetty's chest so she could look upon its face for the first time. She smiled as if oblivious to her suffering and stroked a tender finger over the baby's tiny head.
"Beautiful," Hetty whispered, and then her head fell back with another groan.
Daniel snatched up the child in concern. Hetty's
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