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Buffy Summers watched as her nine-month-old baby boy crawled around, his squeaks of laughter causing her smile to widen. “Mmm,” the baby mumbled, still trying to get down how to say ‘mom’.

“That’s right,” she said with a smile. Giggling, Jaden crawled up to his mommy and tried to use her as leverage to stand up. When he grabbed her upper arm to steady himself, she winced, but didn’t pull away. “It’s okay, Jay,” she assured him. He’d stopped laughing at her hiss of pain, but now that she was smiling at him, he continued to try and stand on his own.

Unfortunately, it ended in him landing on his behind again. However, this didn’t cease his laughter as he started to crawl around.

When her son was occupied with his toys, she pulled up her short-sleeved shirt to reveal a dark, bruised handprint. Taking a deep breath, she dropped the sleeve and tried to focus on her baby again.

When the sounds of a car pulling in the driveway sounded, Buffy’s eyes widened. It was well after 8pm. If he was coming home at this time, it meant he was drunk. He’d left work early to get drunk. But, no surprise, it’s what he always did.

“Buffy,” came her mother’s worried voice as she came into the room. Buffy gulped, nodding at her mother that she knew he was home.

“Take him upstairs, Mom,” Buffy ordered firmly.

“Buffy-”

“Go,” she said more firmly as the car door outside slammed shut.

Joyce hesitated, but went over to Jaden and picked him up. He started crying in protest and reaching for his mom as his grandmother hurried with him up the stairs. “And keep him quiet!” Buffy said, her voice becoming urgent as the front door opened.

With wide eyes, Buffy remembered the toys that were still out. Hurrying, she started to pick them up.

But when she heard the front door open and then slam shut, she closed her eyes for a brief second, willing it all away. Turning slowly, she looked at her father who stood less than three feet away. “What, you can’t say hi?” He hissed and started to walk past her. He smelled drunk, and he definitely looked it.

“Hello,” she said politely.

Buffy could only thank God that her baby had stopped crying before he’d walked in.

“Did your mother fix me something to eat yet?”

“No, but-”

“Well, then did you?” He asked angrily.

“I didn’t have time, I-”

She was cut off by a sharp backhand to her left cheek. “You didn’t have time? If you’re going to disrespect me, you had best come up with a better excuse.”

“Dad, I…”

“You what?” When she didn’t answer, anger boiled inside him. With a solid punch to her jaw, she hit the wall behind her. “Answer me when I talk to you!”

With the blinding pain, she couldn’t have talked if she tried. “You know what happened today?” He questioned angrily, already hitting her again.

“Dad, please,” she said, holding back her tears.

“The job I’ve had for eighteen years…I lost it today! You want to know why?”

Buffy shook her head ‘no’, causing him to anger again. This time, his foot came out to connect with her midsection.

“Because every morning I’m getting there late because of that damned baby of yours!”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled softly, unable to hold back her tears a moment longer.

“Sorry? What do we do for money now? Huh? Answer me!” He was about to hit again when a hand came out and bravely punched him. Turning to face his attacker, he saw his wife standing there. “That was stupid,” he told her before bringing his fist down on her.

“Mom!”

“Shut up!”

It had been bad before. Her and her mother had gone through his abuse since she was ten. But honestly, it had never gotten this bad. Usually, he’d grip her arm hard enough to bruise, or he’d hit her once. Joyce usually wasn’t hurt very much either.

This was the first time he’d honestly tried to hurt them this much.

When Buffy processed this, she knew something bad would happen.

--Flashback--

“You’re what?” Joyce asked with wide eyes.

“I’m pregnant,” Buffy repeated with sad eyes.

Joyce only stared at her daughter for the next few moments, before she found her voice again. “Buffy…you’re 16-years-old.”

“I know,” Buffy said quietly, biting her lip to keep back what she wanted to say.

“Who’s the father?” Joyce asked, not sounding angry, just shocked still.

Buffy didn’t answer, only let all the tears from the past month resurface and fall silently. “Buffy? Who?”

“I…I don’t know,” she said, looking down.

Joyce’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. It was hard to process her daughter sleeping with one person…but so many that she didn’t know who the father was? “How do you not know?” The older woman couldn’t help the anger that seeped into her voice.

Not able to make herself say it, Buffy only cried. She cried so hard that for the next few minutes, all her mother could do was hold her close.

--End flashback--

“Stop!” Joyce cried when her daughter hit the wall again. “Hank!”

He was currently holding his daughter by her upper arms, and repeatedly banging her back against the wall.

He finally let her fall to the floor, and pushed Joyce out of the way as he headed toward the kitchen.

--Flashback--

When Buffy finally stopped crying, her mother pushed some hair out of her eyes. “Buffy…”

“Seven weeks ago,” was her reply. When her mother just looked on in confusion, Buffy gulped. “The baby was conceived seven weeks ago. I was…”

“What?”

“Walking home, and…it was late…dark. There was someone…I don’t know who…”

Joyce’s eyes were already widening. “I…I was raped,” Buffy finished in a strong voice. “I thought…that it was over. I was scared to tell anyone…so I didn’t. I thought it was in the past…but now…I’m carrying his baby…and…” Buffy strong tone faded, leaving her and her mother in tears again.

--End flashback--

“What the hell are you doing!?” Buffy screamed, ignoring her own pain as her father held a gun toward her mother. A gun she didn’t know he’d had.

“Something that should have been done a long time ago,” he answered with hatred. Buffy knew if she moved forward, he’d only shoot.

Frozen by her fear, the world went in slow motion as her father pulled the trigger. Now the woman who was not only her mother, but her best friend, was falling to the floor, blood already seeping through her white shirt.

“No!” Buffy heard herself scream, and all rational thought fled.

Lunging herself at her father, she ignored the second shot he made toward her, not even caring if he’d actually managed to shoot her.

The gun fell from his grasp and went under the couch as she delivered punch after punch to him.

Something was making her weaker and weaker, because Hank managed to throw her off of him, making her hit her already bleeding head hit the edge.

That’s when the sounds of a wailing baby were heard. They didn’t know how long Jayden had been crying, but in the silence, his cries were deafening.

When Hank started for the stairs, she knew he was going after Jaden. Her Jay.

“No,” she mumbled weakly, trying to force herself to stand up. By the time she was steadying herself on the coffee table, her child’s wails turned even louder. Closing her eyes, she heard loud bangs and other harsh noises.

By the time she’d managed to get to the bottom step, Jay’s cries stopped abruptly. Eyes widening in fear, she didn’t even hear the sounds of sirens coming up the street. All she was focusing on was her baby, and getting him safe.

By the time Buffy reached her baby’s room, she didn’t see Jay or Hank. But the window was open. That’s when the sirens hit her ears and she knew Hank had heard them too and fled.

Not caring about her father at the moment, she searched for her baby, and instead found a dark coat of blood on the carpet.

With wide eyes, she frantically followed the trail of blood to the other side of the crib.

“Jay,” she barely whispered at seeing her son on the floor, blood all over him. His eyes were closed and she didn’t know if he was bleeding or not.

An agonizing scream tore from her throat as she fell to the floor, cradling her bleeding boy.

---

The next few hours went by so fast and incredibly slow at the same time. In her mind, nothing existed at the moment.

Police had come, having received a call from one of Buffy’s neighbors. The neighbor had heard a gunshot and called 9-11.

Now she was in a hospital room. They told her that she had been shot in her arm, but it missed all major arteries. She was all patched up and her own bleeding had stopped as she sat staring blankly at the wall opposite her.

“Ms. Summers?”

Her head shot up to a doctor and police officer who had just walked in the room.

Not having anymore tears to cry, she nodded in reply.

“How are my mom and baby?” She asked, fear creeping into her voice.

Looking uncomfortable, the doctor sat on the edge of her bed. “Your mother, Joyce…she was killed instantly when the bullet hit,” he said sympathetically.

Buffy’s heart had already known this, but it still caused unbearable amounts of pain to wash over her. And despite herself, she found new tears coursing down her cheeks silently.

“And Jaden?” She asked in a whisper.

“Ma’am…Your son suffered sever head trauma, and lost a lot of blood.”

“I asked you if he was okay?” She said in a warning tone, her voice treading on sobs again.

“No,” the doctor finally answered. “He was in critical condition when we brought him here, but…he didn’t make it. I’m sorry.”

And in that one moment, she’d lost everything she ever had.





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