The Runaway: A Stardew Valley Story

Night Terrors

"Everything looks good to me," Dr. Harvey says as he puts his stethoscope back around his neck. "Your heart rate is good; baby sounds healthy. I will say, Ms. Lakewood, it would be easier to give you the all-clear if I knew a little more about what brought you in here today."

Sebastian. The name jumps to the front of my thoughts as I recall how the dark-haired man burst into my home with axe held high and something wild in his eyes. He cursed so much when he found me mostly recovered but still weak from the drug Mia had forced under my nose so I wouldn't follow her. Sebastian carried me all the way here and beat on Dr. Harvey's back door, the one that leads to his bedroom, apparently.

"You wait here," Sebastian hissed. "Tell him, you got scared about the baby. You had some pain in your stomach, and want to double-check. I'll check on you in the morning. If I stay, there will be more questions. Keep it vague. Don't tell him that you were drugged."

"Why not?"

Sebastian hesitated with eyes darting from my face to the door. "Doctors are mandatory reporters of certain things. He would be required by law to get the police involved for your safety, but right now, we can't let him do that for your safety."

I nodded.

The lock on the other side clicked. Sebastian squeezed my hand, and the crumple of paper currency tickled my palm. I tried to protest, but the door creaked open. Sebastian disappeared into the night.

"Just the pain," I reply. "It really freaked me out."

The doctor nods. "Well, you did the right thing. You're starting the second trimester, so the risk of miscarriage is diminished. Still, it's always good to follow maternal instincts because the risk is never not—"

A bang interrupts Dr. Harvey. Someone calls his name from the waiting room's direction. Heavy footsteps grow closer. The voice on the other side of the door is frantic and familiar, but everything happens so quickly that I don't have a moment to determine the source before a mess of blonde hair bursts into the room carrying the limp body of a child with red hair.

"Doc, you gotta help him!" Sam shouts.

"You cannot be in here, Samson!" Dr. Harvey shouts back. "I'm with a pat—"

"Juni?" Sam interrupts again, confused. Then he shifts his focus back to the Doctor. "I'm sorry but this is an emergency. Vincent had an asthma attack when we got back from the concert, and his inhaler is out. He can't breathe! He's not responding!"

Under a thick mustache, Dr. Harvey grumbles. A bead of sweat collects in his brow. "Junox, I apologize for this breach in privacy, but it appears my services are needed again. If you'll wait in the lobby, I'll get you signed out once we're finished."

I nod, but my presence is lost to the urgency of Vincent's life. I can hear the rushed commands from Dr. Harvey as he directs the older brother to set Vincent on an open bed. There's mention of something called "CPR," and I can hear Sam tell his brother that it will be okay. The flurry of commotion dies down once the door to the examination room swings shut behind me.

Then it's just me and silence for the next seventeen seconds.

After that, all hell breaks loose as a distressed woman with wild hair and sweat shirt askew steps in. It's the mother of Sam and Vincent, and I realize that I should have asked for her name earlier today. Now, I lock eyes with her, and her panic washes over me. This woman is breathing hard, her eyes are wide and searching, and she looks from me to the examination door with jerky, questioning movements.

She breathes one word, "Vincent?"

I point beyond the glass paneled door, and she breaks out of her frozen fear. The door takes several moments to swing shut as the hinges allow it to fly forward and back. The lobby is full of squeaky metallic wines and sobs from a mother asking if her son would make it through the night.

This is motherhood, I realize with world shattering awareness. This crazed panic and singleminded concern is what it looks like to know that you are the protector and provider of life. I've yet to find a chapter on this in one of the books on parenting, but the dark feeling in my chest is somehow unmistakable. I would do the exact same. This woman will be me.

Finally, Sam pushes through the doors. He takes one hand through sweat-dampened hair and tries to smile in my direction. "He's okay."

I release a breath, and the dark feeling in my chest subsides. "That's—that's great."

"The breathing treatment will take a few minutes, but Doc should be out to check on you in a minute."

I nod. Sam's blue eyes look bigger tonight than normal. The dark voids in their centers are thick, and I can almost see my reflection in them.

"How are you?" Sam asks as he reaches a hand toward my face. "I got worried when Vincent said you left early. We looked all over to be sure you didn't get lost."

"I'm okay," I lie, or maybe it's not a lie since I got the all clear, but it feels like a lie. My gaze follows Sam's hand to a stray hair on my cheek. I'm too confused and disoriented to ask what he's doing. My pulse jumps too quickly as his fingertips brush my cheek, and he tucks the mess behind my ear.

"I was so worried," he repeats. This time his voice is just above a whisper.

I'm not sure if he's talking about me or his brother now, so I decide to speak some truth in order to reassure him. It's not the truth. It's far from the real and traumatizing events of the night, but it is a truth that I've been hiding and can't hide for much longer anyway.

"I just got some pain in my stomach and got worried about the-the baby." Shit, I can't take anything back now that it's out there. I can not look Sam in the eyes right now. Damn, why is my face so hot?

Sam jerks his hand back from my face as his lips part and his blond brows raise. "The what?"

"I'm pregnant," I squeak.

"Oh, congratulations?" Sam sounds bewildered. "Who's... is anyone in town... You know...?"

"Oh, no!" I nearly shout. "He's some idiot from the city. I didn't want to raise my family alone, so I came to be with Grandpa, or at least what's left of him." Shit again! My voice cracks as tears form way too quickly. I don't even have a moment to process what I'm feeling before tears pour down my cheeks.

"Yabba, Juni! I'm so sorry!" Sam collides with me. His arms surround me. "I'm so sorry." His hands soothe me with little circles.

We stay like that for so long that my tears dry, and I begin to wonder if I should pull away. Sam needs this though, I tell myself. He needs comfort after a night like this.

"How did the concert go?" My voice is dry and quiet.

My friend pulls away just enough to see my face. He doesn't answer for a long moment. Sam's just searches my puffy eyes and patchy cheeks. He must find the answer there because he steels himself with a deep breath.

"How about I show you tomorrow night?"

"Huh?"

"I wrote..." He starts and then breathes in. "Let me play you a song I wrote for you. You can come over to my place, eat Mom's cooking, and I will play the best song of the concert. It'll be like you never missed a thing."

"I..."

"Music is good for babies, Juni." Sam smiles. It's big and beautiful and...

And I can't refuse.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay," I laugh.

"Okay, six o'clock."

"Six o'clock."

I don't trust Grammarly. There's no way the last three quarters of this had no errors, but I'm tired. Happy Friday!