Very touchy and might trigger some readers, please be warned while reading.

Ayrahmen looked over the NICU.

Her gaze was strong and focused. She watched the little forms that struggled to breathe, struggled to survive.

A tiny baby born at 23, maybe 24 weeks.

He still needs his mommy to survive. So they created it for him. An isolette that completely controls his temperature. A tube so he can breathe. An IV so he can get food. Then, he grows. And they celebrate. He starts to control his own body temperature, and they couldn't wait to share the news with the other nurses on the unit.

Only to die... Six hours later.

One gets the IV out and a tube down her nose and they feed her through that tube until one day...she takes a bottle. And they cheer.

Only for her to go home and pass in her sleep, something in her stomach wasn't holding her food.

There are setbacks, scary moments, and we hold our breath more than we breathe a sigh of relief. Ayrahmen knew this. These humans worked so diligently and so determinedly only to watch these babies die. 

But she liked to see the good parts of their jobs.

When a little boy gets out of his isolette and he gets to wear clothes! Cute little onesies with a snuggly blanket. 

And they smile.

Eventually, she makes it. Sometimes free and clear, many times with a monitor, or a feeding tube or a vent. But she's done it! She's ready to go home.

So many times, they right there by the parents, helping them navigate the new world, cheering when they cheer, crying when they cry. And when the babies go home, they are sad, but they know the parents are starting a whole new adventure.

They excited that they get to enjoy their baby in the comfort of their own home, and humbled that they got to be a part of helping them get there.

Then there's the family who's not ready. 

Maybe it's an addiction. 

Or safety issues in the home. 

They're the parents who don't visit. 

Or who stop in for a short time, slurring their words, their bloodshot eyes attempting to focus, their interest waning with each second. Ayrahmen hated them. She loathed them with all of her being.

There's no room in the NICU for judgment, those humans who worked there were merciful and kind, understanding and fair.

The nurses don't know those parents' lives. They only want them to be the best they can be, so they can be the best for their baby.

But then, it's time to go home. And the parents aren't ready.

They know they are not ready.

Everybody does everything they can to help the parents. 

The parents do everything they can to prove they're' ready to take their baby home.

Now, this baby who could fit in the palm of your hand, who couldn't yet open his eyes, who almost didn't make it, who they gave their first-ever bath to, who finally took a bottle when they thought they were never going to, who, after several months, flashed them a smile.

He's going home.

And you're holding your breath. Hoping she's going to be okay.

That, against all odds, he'll have the care he needs.

That she'll have the best life because she fought so hard for it.

And you hope the parents are ready.

What's the biggest struggle? Saying goodbye.

Then hoping and praying it all works out.

And Ayrahmen took them before the parents could ruin them.

The jawless female was not as merciful as her younger brother, Tuctalin.

Nor was she a savior like Cahculin.

She was a merciless taker, a selfish female.

A rescuer in her own mind.

Where the humans working in the NICU were saving these babies, Ayrahmen was taking them far away from the pain and the harsh reality of the world. 

Currently, she stood at her full height, her hand resting on the plastic casing, watching a small human struggle for life. It was male, small, struggling to breathe. His tiny chest rose, thing bones poking at the surface. Ayrahmen would have smiled at him had she still possessed a lower jaw. But she did not. She could only stand there with what could only be a look of pity. The skeleton lifted the casing and touched the child.

She carefully lifted his hand and looked at the ever so tiny wrist band.

Evan.

Evan.

What would have happened if she let Evan live?

She closed off her mind so that she could see.

The little boy grew up with a horrible home life. A father who didn't love him. A mother who was hardly there, and when she was she didn't know who he was. He grew into the horrible parts of childhood, and in most futures, she saw for him, died at 18.

Shot and punished for his crimes.

The female would not let that happen.

She ran her fingers across his arm, up to his tiny face, he was so small. A fragile and beautiful little boy, even born as early as he was. Her hands lifted him from the NICU bed and she pulled him close to her ribcage, she wrapped him in the loose cloths of her own garments and kept him close.

It's okay little Evan... Her thoughts were loud, the little baby's breathing slowed.

Where you are going... His small hands reached out to touch her, but he hardly could control his limbs.

There will be no pain... She lifted him to her skull so she could get a good look at him, with his tiny hands, tiny feet, tiny stature...

And you will be safe... 

The nurses would arrive soon to check on him. Ayrahmen placed him back down on the cold bed, small cold hands would never feel it again. She placed a hand against the monitor and watched as it turned to a flat line with a monotone beep.

Evan was on his way to the next life.

Ayrahmen looked up and into the NICU.

17 babies...

17 lives...

And the choice was hers.