Chapter thirteen - radical carrot

Credit for the title goes to my loyal skittle child, @velvet_sharpie xoxo

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I couldn't believe they'd let her in. Maybe they'd taken pity on us. I could certainly see why.

Donna had been quickly wheeled off to a proper room to give birth in, Gerard scurrying after her, but Mikey couldn't go without Ray (and Ray wasn't a relative so wasn't allowed in), so the two of them were forced to stay in the waiting area with Bob and me.

It had been four hours. Nothing had happened. No one had even spoken.

Ray and Mikey were squished up together on one of the cushioned chairs, blankets wrapped around them, and Mikey had been asleep for about half an hour. Ray had been humming quietly for about forty five minutes.

Bob was staring at the wall, bored out of his mind. I was staring at the floor, not quite as bored as Bob. I was trying to be positive.

"I'm so fucking fed up," Bob groaned, breaking the silence.

"This is pretty boring," I mumbled. "But it beats double maths with Mr Collins, right?"

Bob snorted, recalling the shitty hours we'd spent face down on the desks, trying to tune out Mr Collins' rambling, droning voice. We hadn't learned anything this year except for how to fall asleep in thirty seconds.

"I guess," Bob agreed.

"How bloody long does it take to have a baby, though?" Ray asked.

"It took my mom twenty two hours," I mused.

"Jesus Christ," Ray mumbled.

"But she's having a caesarean, it could be faster."

Ray sighed, and Mikey curled closer into his chest. It looked comfy, but there was no way that would make up for the soul crushing boredom. "I should hope so."

----

It took five more hours, but finally, after what seemed like forever, Gerard appeared at the doorway of the waiting room, with tired eyes but a radiant smile on his face. "You can come in," he murmured.

Ray gently woke Mikey up, and we all stretched and slipped into the recovery room that Donna had been moved to. She lay in a clean, comfortable bed, looking exhausted, her hair plastered to her forehead and a sheen of sweat over her skin. But she was smiling too, holding a tiny fragile child in her arms. The baby wasn't crying, but it was gurgling and making small soft little sounds, squinting its brown eyes and flailing its little hands.

"Oh," Mikey said softly, and Ray smiled and kissed his shoulder.

"You're a big brother now," Ray said quietly.

We all stood around the bed, our hearts warmed from the scene before us. The other women in the ward were all looking at us, frowning at us in disdain, but we didn't care.

Well, we didn't care until a rather angry looking doctor marched up to us and informed us that we had to leave.

"My mom is still recovering," Gerard said. "Can't we stay with her for just a few more hours?"

"I'm not sure you understand," the doctor said unhappily. "She has to leave too."

"What? Why?"

"This is a white hospital. This woman is not white, and neither are you. Only you two are white," he glanced at me and Bob, "and you have absolutely no need to be here whatsoever."

"Well, we're not leaving!" Gerard insisted. "Hospitals are supposed to help people, and she needs medical supervision until she's recovered."

"She can get medical supervision at a black hospital," he sneered.

"No! She can't get the help she needs there, and we aren't leaving."

"I'm sorry, I'm going to have to call the guards over to remove you if you don't–"

"We are not leaving," I said firmly.

The doctor stared at us, the irritation on his face clear. He pulled a pager from his pocket and tapped on the keys, then smirked and put a hand on his hip.

Within a minute, a large guard and a man in an expensive suit with a briefcase appeared in front of Donna's bed.

I wasn't sure what was happening. I kept my mouth shut.

"You're going to have to leave now," the man in the suit said in a very nasal voice.

"No," Gerard said through gritted teeth.

"I'm not sure you understand."

That was the second time someone had said that. It was starting to infuriate me. "We understand perfectly, thank you very much, but we're not going anywhere."

"And why is this?" the man in the suit laughed mockingly.

"Because my mom needs to recover before we can leave."

"It is illegal for your 'mom' to recover here before she leaves."

"What?" Gerard asked confusedly.

"Illegal. That means it's against the law," the man said in a patronising voice, as if Gerard was four years old.

"It's not illegal!"

"It most certainly is. We just passed a law."

"No! She can stay here if she wants. We're not leaving."

"No, she can't, and neither can you. You're going to have to come with me now."

"What? No!"

Five more huge men appeared, coming in from all the doors around us. It was like in a movie. Each guard grabbed one of us, trapping us completely. Even Donna had a guard clutching so hard at her shoulder it left red marks.

No white marks, though. The men wore gloves. Gloves and masks, as if breathing the same air as a black would physically harm them.

The man in the suit efficiently snapped on a pair of plastic gloves, and lifted Donna's baby from her arms. Her mouth fell open in shock. She was frozen. Horrified.

"Take them to the Council," the man ordered, holding Donna's baby tightly.

"The white ones too?" one of the guards asked.

The response was a simple but serious nod.

And then they dragged us away.

----

"I should lock you all in jail," the president mused.

We had been thrown right in President Steel's office. Not in front of the Council. Not in front of someone we could argue with. In front of the president.

"I've already spoken to one of you about a different crime," he said, words dripping with venom as he shot Ray a look.

Ray swallowed and looked down.

"But I'm a reasonable man. Persuade me."

"Persuade you what?" Bob asked bravely.

"Plead your case! Explain why you're innocent."

Gerard stuttered, trying to force out simple syllables and failing. He hung his head and broke eye contact with the president, ashamed.

"Blacks and whites should be equal," I spoke up. If I was willing to die for the cause, I should be willing to do this. "We're all people. We're all alive. We should have the same rights."

"Elaborate," the president said slowly.

"Segregation is pointless. Maybe it's the reason blacks stain whites' skin. Spending so much time apart."

Steel raised an eyebrow. He looked like he was really thinking about it. But then he chuckled. "Blacks and whites are not equal, and they never will be. You're disgusting creatures," he spat at the Ways. "And you two," he nodded at Bob and me, "you're just as bad for siding with them."

The guards approached us again, coming up from behind and clamping their hands over our mouths.

"Lock them up," the president stated, then marched over to his desk and sat down, continuing with his paperwork as if we had never even been there.

We were handcuffed, shackled, dragged through corridors, up and down about a hundred staircases, and we were starting to think we would never even get to jail. If it was all the same building, it was one fucking huge place.

At some point in the journey, Mikey had a coughing fit, a really awful one, and the guard slapped him in the face. "Shut it, you fucking rat," the guard growled. "You make another sound and you'll really get it."

Mikey held his mouth shut, but couldn't help the hacking coughs escaping.

"Right," the guard spat, pulling his fist back. He lunged at Mikey.

"Don't you dare touch him!" Ray screamed frantically, scrambling to break free of his shackles and protect Mikey.

"I'll do what I want," the man snarled.

I turned away. I didn't want to see. I could still hear the whole thing, anyway. The sound of a fist hitting a face. Mikey sobbing and choking, Ray crying and screaming for the guard to stop, and his chains scraping across the concrete as he desperately tried to escape the tight metal grip of the cuffs binding his ankles and wrists.

The screams echoed in my head, burning into my heart. This was all my fault. It was all because of me.

It was all my fault.