You never thought it would happen so suddenly.

One moment, the world was quiet—too quiet—and the next, hands were on you, voices sharp and urgent, dragging you away before you could even scream her name. The only thought in your head wasn’t fear for yourself.

It was the life growing inside you.

They took you somewhere cold. Somewhere without windows. The questions started immediately. Names. Locations. Secrets you didn’t have—or wouldn’t give, even if you did.

They didn’t care that you were pregnant.

You learned that quickly.

They pushed, threatened, tried to break you down piece by piece. The pain came in waves—cuts, bruises, exhaustion that made your vision blur—but you held on. You curled inward whenever you could, one arm instinctively protecting your stomach, whispering promises under your breath that you would survive this.

For the baby. For Peggy.

“No,” you said again and again, your voice hoarse but unbroken. “I don’t know anything.” “I won’t tell you.”

They grew frustrated when you didn’t crack.

You lost track of time.

When the door finally opened again, you expected more pain. Instead, you heard shouting—gunfire in the distance—and then a voice you knew better than your own heartbeat.

Your name.

Peggy.

She burst into the room like a storm, eyes wild with fear she didn’t let anyone else see. The moment she saw you, everything else stopped. You were slumped against the wall, wrists raw, skin marked with deep bruises and cuts—but you were breathing.

Alive.

Peggy was at your side instantly, hands shaking as she touched your face, careful, reverent. “Hey,” she whispered, like if she spoke louder you might disappear. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. I’m here.”

You tried to speak, but your voice broke. Tears slipped out instead—silent, exhausted, unstoppable.

She noticed immediately.

Peggy pressed her forehead to yours, eyes closing as if she were holding herself together by sheer will. “You did so well,” she said softly. “I’m so proud of you.”

Her hand moved gently to your stomach, protective, desperate. “Are they—?”

You nodded weakly. “Still… still here.”

That’s when she broke.

Just a little. Just enough for you to see it.

She pulled you into her arms carefully, shielding you with her body like she could undo everything that had happened by force alone. Her voice shook as she whispered, “I should’ve found you sooner.”

You shook your head. “You found me.”

And that was the truth.

Later, wrapped in clean sheets and safety, Peggy sat beside you and never let go of your hand. She counted your breaths. She watched your chest rise and fall like it was the only thing anchoring her to the world.