It takes me one second to snap out of my shock and another to get to her. I'm vaguely aware that Dwight orders the lady that let us in to go downstairs and wait for the ambulance.

As I kneel by her parted legs, the girl breathes out a carnal cry. "Please, help me. I can't stop it."

Her face is covered in tears mixed with sweat, and my heart breaks for her. She is scared and probably fucking uncomfortable on the hard, wooden floor, yet I can't move her.

"Breathe," I tell her as I shrug off my heavy bulletproof vest and coat to give me more freedom to move. "We're here and we will help you. Just breathe."

My words don't seem to calm her down at all, and I'm not surprised. Both Dwight and I probably look just as scared as her. Dwight hasn't even left his spot on the threshold.

"Get me warm water and towels, Dwight," I tell him as I watch the girl take another deep breath before she pushes again.

I have no fucking clue why I need warm water, but my sister used to watch this tv show about midwives, and they always asked for it. Fuck, I could need Mercy right now.

Dwight finally snaps out of his shock as well and runs through the hall and out of the sight to search for water and towels.

"It hurts. I can't," the girl cries, her teeth clenched. When I look in between her legs, I see the top of what I assume is the baby's head.

Jesus fuck. I can't do this either.

I put my hands on her legs as a reassuring gesture. "Hey, look at me," I tell her, and immediately her scared, wide eyes snap up. "What's your name?"

It's an attempt to distract her from the pain now that she is not feeling the need to push. I have no fucking clue about childbirth, so right now the only thing we can do is trust her body and follow that lead.

"Jo..," she whimpers. "Josephine."

I nod my head and give her a small smile. "Josephine. I'm Hero. Listen, I need you to listen to your body and-"

"Arghhh," she cries once again, cutting me off. She then starts pushing once again, her left hand now traveling down to where the head of the baby becomes more visible.

Her head turns red, her breath stuck in her throat as she pushes for dear life. All the while, her blue eyes stay glued on my face, her terrified expression begging me to give her some kind of sign that it will be okay.

It's that expression that snaps me out of my shock completely, and it's suddenly as if instinct takes over. She will have her baby in a matter of seconds, and I'm the only one that can help her.

"You're doing great," I tell her determined, and as if she feels my shift, she straightens her back a little while giving me a small, barely-there nod.

I look down once again and see that the head is almost completely out now. I move her hand out of the way and grab it in my own, squeezing reassuringly before she pulls it back and steadies it on the floor next to her.

"It'll come out. I feel it," she sobs, panic rising to the service. Her hand is once again reaching down, now cupping the head of the baby as if she wants to push it back in. "I don't want it to come out. It can't come out."

I scoot even closer, deciding to ignore her panic for as long as I'm able to. I once again move her hand away, clasping it in my own. She needs to focus and she doesn't have a choice. This baby will come out. Now. "It will be okay, Josephine. I'll help you. Just a little longer. Come on."

She nods, but I'm not sure if she's heard me completely. I don't have time to check though, because her body once again tenses as she gives another deadly push.

As I look down, I'm just in time to see the head come out completely, and without thinking it over, my left-hand reaches out.

Another piercing cry comes from Josephine, one that snatches right through me, and not a second later, I feel her baby come out. I'm just in time to catch it which is quite a task given how slippery the tiny body is.

I look down at the small body in my hands. The purple little bundle doesn't move, and for a terrifying moment, I'm afraid that it's not alive.

But then a piercing yet soft cry fills the hall, and both Josephine and I let out a sigh of relief.

Thank fuck.

I turn the baby around in my arms, noting that it's a girl as I untangle the umbilical cord from around her belly. I then lay her on Josephine's chest, and she shields her baby immediately, wrapping her arms around her protectively.

I notice she is shaking like a leaf, and since Dwight still hasn't returned from his search for towels and warm water, I move my coat over the two of them.

"Oh my God," Josephine mumbles with a shaky, soft voice, her mouth against the head of her newborn daughter, whose soft crying has now wined down. "Thank you," she then breathes while her red eyes find my face.

I give her a small smile. "Just keep her warm, yeah? The ambulance will be here any minute."

"Her? It's a girl?" She asks, kissing her baby's head.

I smile and nod. "A girl. She seems okay. We'll just wait for the paramedics."

She nods and gives me a small smile which not a second later turns into a frown of pain. At the same time, I feel a warm liquid soak through the fabric of my pants, and when I look down, I note that there is suddenly a lot more blood than moments ago.

"Fuck," I curse under my breath. This is not good.

"I'm dizzy" Josephine whimpers, her face seemingly paler than while she was giving birth. "Take her. Please, keep her safe." Her eyes roll back, and I'm just in time to take the little bundle, wrapped in my coat, out of her hands before Josephine collapses onto the floor.

"Dwight!" I scream. Jesus, where is that fucker?

Just as Dwight comes into view, I hear footsteps on the stairs behind me as well, and a few seconds later, three other people enter the hall.

They all go straight to Josephine, and all I can do is make room for them to do their thing by scooting back. I hold the little girl tightly against my chest, making sure she stays warm enough as I watch the paramedics move around her mother frantically.

They are using medical terms that I've never heard before, needles, packages, and bags of fluids flying around as they try to help her.

In less than two minutes they have her on a stretcher before they carry her out of the apartment. I'm only now noticing how colleagues of mine are helping by carrying her stretcher as well. I didn't even notice them arriving in the first place.

For a moment I sit there in shock. I can't remember the last time I held a baby, yet here I am, in my arms a girl that is just minutes old. She is tiny as hell, and every time I breathe I'm afraid she'll slip out of my arms.

The little girl is whimpering a little, and when I look down I see that she is trying to move her mouth over her fist. After a few tries, she succeeds in getting two of her fingers in her mouth and starts to suck on them contently. Her eyes are closed, her skin now pink instead of purple. The soft brown hairs on her head are covered in a white, sticky substance. She is falling asleep, and I might be imagining it, but I swear she nestles herself against my chest a little more.

I'm completely endeared by the sight, and my chest swells with the immense urge to protect this little bundle until she is safe and sound, back in her mother's arms.

I'm forced to move my gaze away from the baby when my attention is pulled away by someone who is kneeling in front of me. It's a paramedic that stayed behind and his face is scanning me for a moment before he holds out his hands. "You can give the baby to me now."

My eyes move from his face to his outstretched hands and then to the little girl that is sleeping against my chest. Then, I shake my head without thinking. "Her mother asked me to keep her safe. She stays with me until her mother can take her from me."

The guy's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he still nods his head. "That's fine. I just want to make sure she is okay."

He holds his hands out once again, and I reluctantly give her to him. He immediately lays her on the stretcher behind him, and the moment he folds open my coat, she begins to cry.

"Maybe you can look around to see if there are any clothes for her to wear?" He directs while his gaze stays on the baby. His glove-covered hands are moving over her tiny body to make sure she is healthy, and it somehow irritates me how he isn't using his bare hands.

She's two minutes old for fuck sakes, how many contentious diseases can she have?

I look around if I see Dwight so I can ask him to look for some clothes, but I don't see him in the hall anymore. The paramedic and I are the only ones left, the baby that lies on the stretcher in my coat, and the pile of blood on the floor the only evidence of what transpired just moments ago.

"I'll be right back. Please, don't leave," I plead while standing up from the ground.

"I won't go anywhere without you, I promise."

With one last glance at the little girl, that is now giving her lungs a good thug of air by crying loudly, I turn around and walk through the first door to my right which I find to be a small living room.

The furniture is old but clean and the shutters in front of the windows are closed. There is a single candle lit in the corner of the room, illuminating the space very slightly.

Since there is no trace of any baby clothes in this room, I walk out and then step through the next door which is the kitchen. I see a bucket in the sink, the cabinet underneath it open, and all its contents spread onto the floor.

It's clear that this is Dwight's doing, and when I turn the tap, I understand why it took him so damn long. The water isn't running. He no doubt tried to see if he could get the sink fixed, that's why all the cleaning products are shattered across the floor.

I shake off the confusion and then step out of the kitchen, continuing my search for clothes. The next door I open is the one of a bedroom with an enjoined bathroom, and just like in any other room in this house, there is not a single trace of baby articles.

It makes my confusion even bigger. This girl, Josephine, clearly knew she was pregnant, yet there isn't as much as a baby crib present in this house.

A weird feeling rushes through me as I think about what the older lady told us when we arrived. The owner of this apartment is on vacation, he left yesterday. The apartment is empty.

Why the hell would you leave a heavily pregnant girl alone with no running water or any other supplies that are needed for a baby?

I step out of the bedroom and then open the last door, hoping to find some answers. A second later, I wish I hadn't though, because what I find is something that instantly makes me want to run to the sink and throw up.

The room is just as dark as every other room in this house, but where the furniture in the other rooms where old but clean, in this room only lies a dirty, old mattress.

The walls are pasted with egg cartons from floor to ceiling completely, and the only window in the room is covered with a black, thick fabric that looks like a construction cloth.

On the wall at the end of the mattress are two hooks attached. On both of them hang steel chains with at the end handcuffs. Handcuffs that are now laying open on the dirty mattress.

The mattress is covered in blood, a few towels on the ground are also wet and red.

This is sick. I'm going to be fucking sick.

I stumble out of the room and make my way back to the guy who is still examining the baby. When he notices I'm returned, he looks at me expectantly.

I shake my head, my knees buckling. "No clothes. We need a team in here asap. It's bad," I manage to tell him, and by the look on his face, he immediately catches on the seriousness of the matter.

"How bad?"

I sigh and swallow away the saltiness in my jaw, fighting my reflexes to not empty my stomach right here and now. "Her mother was possibly held here against her will." I manage to get out. For me, it's not a possibility but a fact, but since there are protocols, I leave it to the research team to come to the same conclusion.

His eyes widen in shock, obviously not expecting this kind of turn. "I'll call for back up," he says and then wraps the still crying baby in a clean blanket before he hands her back to me. "You can go downstairs with her. There is an ambulance waiting to take her to the hospital. She is fine, very tiny and her weight needs to be monitored, but she's holding up okay."

I nod and look at the little bundle in my arms. She is wearing a pink cap, and now that I'm holding her close to my chest, her cries stop little by little.

I hold her close to me, making sure she is completely sheltered as I walk out of the disgusting apartment, promising myself that she'll never have to set one step into this place ever again.

I don't know the entire story just yet, but I'm determined to give this little girl and her mother all the help and care they need so they'll never have to come back here again.

I just fucking hope her mother will survive the battle she is fighting at this very moment first.

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