Norma threw her clothes into a duffle bag. Dylan did the same. She had expected him to ask a million questions, but he remained silent.

   "Dylan, Honey, hurry it up. We need to leave before Sam sees us," she explained, pushing him out of the bathroom.

   The night before, Sam had started drinking and assaulted his wife for the third time. Norma tried to talk him down, and had even put some distance between the two of them, but he had noticed and taken hold of her anyways.

   "Sam...please, don't do this," she begged, grasping for straws at what else to do. Reasoning with a drunk man was hard, and she was still weak from giving birth to their son.

   Now, she was driving in the middle of a dirt road with a screaming newborn and a scared, still silent little boy.

   She pulled into a hotel and took the cash that was hidden in the seat to pay for a room. "We're all gonna sleep together in one bed, but we have to be really careful because of your brother, okay?" she'd told Dylan. He only nodded, still unaware of the situation but still too nervous to ask. They laid down together in the small bed that night, and Norma watched as her babies fell into peaceful sleep.

   She found herself staring at her hands, remembering how she threw out the wedding ring that Samuel had given to her before they were married. She cursed. If you'd had any wits, she thought, you would've sold the blasted thing.

   Norma imagined that her time with Sam was long gone. Although she doubted seeing him again, though, fear overtook her when she heard a tree branch tapping against the hotel window.

   The scared mother laid there, holding her sons close, knowing that time would escape her and that she would soon have to figure out how to feed all three of them. Putting all her money into the hotel might not have been the wisest idea, but she had no choice.

   Norma dreamed of Sam. He was waving his hands around in a fit of rage; half a bottle of beer was in his hand. Everything was blurry for a moment, then Dylan appeared out of nowhere behind her husband. She had no idea what he said, but whatever it was made Samuel mad and the drunken man turned on her child. The bottle came down on her son's head; she woke drenched in sweat.

   She glanced over her shoulder at the digital clock. It read 7:02. She sighed. Morning came too quickly.

   Norma knew she had to do something for her family. Once Dylan had was awake, she asked him to watch Norman before disappearing to check on the car. There was a hole in the seat that Norma used to hide money in, and she slid her hand through it carefully, feeling for anything that felt remotely like paper.

   Her heart sank, and she chided herself with a few choice words. There was nothing left.

   She only knew of one thing to do, but she couldn't leave her children in the hotel to do it.

   ~                                                                                                                                                                                              ~

   Norma glanced around the little shopping center. It seemed that every corner was filled with a camera or two; that left only one place for her to successfully shoplift.

   She felt that her luck was pretty significant, but knew that it would be soon to run out. There was hardly a soul in the store, and Norma quietly loaded a basket full of supplies before heading in the direction of the women's bathroom.

   It had been hours since she'd eaten. Norman was screaming at the top of his lungs. Dylan remained silent except for the growling of his stomach. She was starting to feel dizzy and feared that something might have been wrong, so she left Dylan standing outside the stall with his brother's carrier beside him.

   It was only a week since her son's birth, and a visit to the ladies room revealed that she was still bleeding quite heavily. She pulled off her undergarments, cursing at herself for being so careless. While Norma hadn't previously been so queasy at the sight of blood, her current plight was wearing her down, and upon catching scent of the thick, red liquid, she vomited and passed out all at once.

   She slipped. Her head hit the door, and Dylan let out a startled yelp. "Mom?"

   Nothing.

   "Momma!" he called. He thought that he could crawl under the stall to check on her, but was unsure of leaving Norman alone.

   A few seconds later, the fear in his gut encouraged him to crawl under the bathroom stall. "Mom?"

   He realized very quickly that his mother was unconscious and indecent, and he covered his eyes, letting out a scared cry. "Momma, wake up!" he sobbed, pulling at her arms.

   Dylan dashed out from under the stall. His mind told him not to leave his baby brother, but his gut told him that his mother needed him more. He busted out of the restroom and yelled for help with all the strength he could muster.

   Alex Romero was an aisle away.

   "What's happened?"

   "My mother, she's in the bathroom-- she fell and hit her head and has no clothes, and my baby brother is there by himself!"

   "C'mon," Romero said, leading the way back to the ladies room.

   "She's in here," Dylan said, pointing at the obviously closed stall. Norman was insisting on being fed at this point, and was screaming ever so loudly.

   "Is this your baby brother?"

   Dylan nodded.

   "And your mother, she's in here...she hit her head?"

   "She's not moving."

   Alex popped the door open, seeing Norma's awkwardly posed body. Her head had fallen with the moving of the door and now landed in the puddle of vomit; Romero's stomach churned but he ignored the feeling, noting that the woman's undergarments were covered in blood.

   He checked her pulse. Her breathing was relatively normal. He placed a hand under her head, hoping to place her in a safer position, before her eyes fluttered open and she took on a mortified stare.

   "What the- what happened? Where are my sons?" she asked, placing her hands flat against the floor in an effort to push herself up.

   "They're fine, they're right here," he assured her, holding her down for a second.

   "Momma!" Dylan cried, kneeling to hug his mother. His short little arms hugged her neck, and she held his hand in hers for a moment.

   "Are...are you feeling okay?" Alex asked, hating himself for interrupting the mother-son moment.

   "I- I'm sorry," she said, avoiding his question. "I just vomited...and slipped...I'll be fine, no need to worry about me," she piped. She stood and wobbled, latching onto the man in an effort to keep herself upright.

   "Listen, I think it'd be a good idea for you go to the hospital--"

   "Thanks for your concern," she pulled her floral skirt over her bare lower half, "but I'll be fine," she insisted, leaning over to grab Norman's carrier.

   "Sorry, but-- I'm not asking," he said, stopping her.

   She paused, then noticed the patch on his shirt that signified his rank.