Chapter 12 Twelve

• The digital clock on the nightstand reads 2:17 AM. I shift positions for the hundredth time, trying to get comfortable. My back aches, and the baby seems determined to practice somersaults tonight.
• Sleep has become my enemy. I stare at the ceiling in the dark, feeling the weight of loneliness press down on me heavier than the pregnancy itself.
• I miss my apartment. It was small and shabby, but it was mine. I miss freedom, the ability to walk outside whenever I want without security guards watching my every move.