When Karen Shapiro came to consciousness, the first thing she recognized was the continuous beeping of the heart monitor machine next to her and the needle that was in her skin. Her head felt as if it had been pounded upon severally and her eyes wanted to close of their own accord. Where was she? What had happened to her? For all she knew about her being in a blue and white room that stank of drugs and antiseptic, she knew within her that she was missing something. Something was wrong. She wasn't supposed to be in the room that she was, and she knew it. But she couldn't place it. At that same moment, the door opened, revealing a nurse in a white uniform that bore kind, brown eyes. Her hair was covered with a nursing cap, and when she smiled, it was cheerful and broad, seeming to light up the whole room. It made Karen Shapiro smile slightly even though she clearly didn't want to, even though her head felt as if a thousand nails had been drilled into it. The nurse proceeded

In the days that followed, Jenett Darius felt as if she was living in a dream. She could barely respond to questions that were thrown her way, and she knew it made the chief of police genuinely worried because of the agreement she had made to testify against Karen Shapiro in the court. How was she going to be able to do that when her purpose of living was no more? When her son was no more, the child that she had birthed hadn't even lived to experience the remorse that she was feeling? The removal of the guilt that had filled her chest by turning herself in? On a sunny Monday morning, she was shocked to find the chief of police opening the door to her cell. She jolted awake, and so did Margaret Woods. She had barely spoken to Margaret since she had heard the news of her son's death, and all she had wanted was for death to snatch her too. But no matter how much she wished for it, it never seemed to come. Death knew that it wasn't time for her to go, and it was playing its part by r