Tink woke to the smell of bleach and lemon cleanser. She kept her body still and unmoving while she tried her best to remember where she was and how she got there. Her arms and legs were loose, the ties from her nightmares no longer contorting her and it felt good.

Patches of memory flashes played and John came to mind. John being angry. John breaking her out. John carrying her across a dark lot...but to where? She heard nothing. Silence. The kind that was so loud it made your ears pound.

She opened one eye and was met with a wall of cinderblocks. No help really, that could be anywhere. She wiggled her foot, just a bit to see if anything stirred but the only sound was her foot against the crisp sheet.

There was no way to explain why she felt fear. John had gotten her out of a bad situation. He was going to take her somewhere safe. She remembered that. There were no ties on her now -and except for the fact that she was wearing new clothes and the deafening silence nothing seemed off. But even so, her mind raced and her mouth felt dry with fear. Maybe this was her new normal. Being afraid. She was in a world that was cruel and harsh and perhaps that scared her more than anything.

Without the ability to do anything about it she closed her eyes and rolled over. Nothing. She was fine. No hands, no movement. Using her arms to support her wobbly frame she sat up and waited for the room to stop spinning.

She was in a type of cell. Half of a room sectioned off with its divider made of bars. Inside the cell with her was a cot, which she lay on and a plate and cup on the floor beside it. The plate had a sandwich cut into triangles like her mother used to put her school lunches. The other half of the room outside the bars had a desk, a chair facing the cell, and a table with gloves, medicines, and tiny bottles lined up across it.

None of this made sense to Tink except the food. Suddenly realizing she was starving she reached down to the floor and grabbed a tiny triangle. The bread was soft and the peanut butter and jelly oozed on the sides. There was no need to think it through. She stuffed the triangle in her mouth and with a single snap of her teeth swallowed it.

Her stomach lurched once in protest before her mouth exploded in pleasure and she reached for another while her eyes scanned the room. It wasn't frightening really, it was clean and quiet and she felt protected behind the bars. If anyone or anything were to come, she'd know.

She stretched and chewed- the second triangle of the sandwich was even better and she forced herself to slow down. Maybe she had experienced another outburst. Was it going to be a habit, anger bubbling up to the surface like lava unable to be contained.

She'd have to apologize. There was no room to mess this up. John was going to get her home. Home to a place she barely remembered and with people she no longer had any shred of understand for, but it was still a part of her. If nothing else it would keep her warm and fed until she could clear her mind and figure out what to do.

Her hands rubbed her belly which now caved in instead of pouching out. Had they taken her baby? Was it so afraid that it burrowed deeper into her body. Maybe that was the pain she felt pushing against her spine.

She could feel the argument stir inside her. Whispers that it was still there screaming against whispers it had been stolen from her while she slept. Her hands searched her body for truth. She was thin. Too thin. Even people starving in pictures she'd seen had rounded stomachs when a baby was there.

Tink hummed loudly to stop the voices and covered her ears with her hands. She tried sending her senses to other parts of her body to find out what was happening. Her back hurt. Each section of her spine felt like a rubber band too tight to take any more movement. Maybe the baby had been afraid. So afraid it nestled deeper into her until it was next to her spinal cord. So deep it caused her stomach muscles to cave inward.

It was possible. It was possible. It was possible. It was also possible that the nurses had stolen it while she slept. She felt her stomach for slashes or stickers but found nothing but flat and saggy wrinkled skin. Her privates were sore, maybe they'd taken it out there. Ripped out her baby and shoved it into a nice plump nurse who hadn't paid the price for it.

The room spun and the triangles of sandwich swirled in an upward pattern threatening to exit. She hugged herself and rocked humming even louder to break the panic. Giraffes and hippos and puppies. She pictured baby cribs with giggling babies and tiny kicking legs. As her breathing slowed she thought of names. Zachary. Bryson. Theo.

She would have a boy. Because boys were strong. A tiny helpless boy that would love his mother. And she would teach him what girls like. She wouldn't let him be weak, but she'd teach him that strength isn't always about taking. But that he could, if it came to it, take. Because boys must be able to fend off the weak. He would need those skills, and he would use them to protect his mama. Because that's what boys do, they take and protect.

Tink began to wiggle her toes and enjoyed the warmth that came with knowing things were going to be alright. She was going to be a good mother. Happy and beautiful and proud. Her hands wrap around the mug and she empties it. Water. Clean pure water to wash down all those bad thoughts she'd had.

There were two triangles left and she placed them under her pillow. They were for her. Her and her baby and she'd save them for when he was hungry. She sat on the edge of the bed and put weight on her legs causing her muscles to cramp and sending stabbing pain up her spine.

Five more times. She needed to get stronger. She needed to able to protect herself and her baby. Sweat trickled down her back and it felt good. She was safe, and warm, and fed and soon she would be home.

When she passed her goal and stood by herself on shaking legs she rewarded herself by laying back down. She was flooded with warmth and her body felt weirdly light and heavy at the same time. Maybe she'd overloaded it with food and work. Whatever it was, she didn't mind.

Her thoughts floated easily slipping from their places and drifting in and out as her eyelids struggled to close. She just wanted to wait for John to come and tell her why she was here. She could do that.

Somewhere she could hear noises. A soft rhythmic thumping from a million miles away. Maybe it was her heartbeat, or the baby's, but it had a rhythm she remembered. She tried to think but her thoughts were too floaty. Sitting back up would help but she couldn't make her muscles behave.

There was just one more voice trying to tell her something and she struggled to listen until the lull of dark sleep was too strong to work through.

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Killing Tink got a new cover! It's aesthetically perfect don't you think? Personally I always have a hard time putting characters on my covers because I try never to see be characters with details - I don't know why- it's odd. But I really really feel the blurry parts and the darkness of this one. So major props and thanks to krazydiamond ! In the next chapter we delve a little deeper into Johns character and that's always a scary place to be.