The anxiety was too much for my body to handle. My heart seemed like it was going to beat out of my chest and I struggled to breathe. My muscles were tight and sore with tension. Multiple times throughout the day, I had to run to the bathroom because I could no longer handle the nausea.

Miles was annoyed with my crying and begging. He refused to bring Briar anywhere for help because he did not believe that she was sick. Joseph saw the change in her breathing but pretended it had not happened. After leaving Joseph's room, Miles told me to be quiet before he turned off the oil lamps and settled to bed. In the dark, I spent all night next to Briar's crib and watched her sleep.

In the morning, I did not see Joseph in the house. I continued to plead with Miles, but he stopped answering me. He stayed silent and pretended like he could not hear me. When I grabbed his arm, he shook me off before storming out of the house.

I held onto Briar throughout the day and refused to let go. She still looked like my happy baby as she smiled and kicked her feet in the air. I did not do any of my chores and spent the day in the rocking chair watching her in my arms. My stomach was twisted into a tight knot, and I was unable to eat. I knew something was wrong, but Miles did not believe me.

The change was subtle, but it was happening again. Briar's nostrils flared as she struggled to get in breath. It was like watching a nightmare come to life when her breathing grew quicker. Her smile disappeared as her lips moved to try and get more air into her lungs. I muttered prayers while I held on tighter to my baby. They were the same prayers I said for my grandmother in the last weeks of her life.

How could Joseph let this happen to his granddaughter? This was how his daughter died, and he was willing to let it happen again.

My hand trembled as I grabbed Briar's tiny fist. When I looked at her fingernails, they were not blue like Joseph had said. The relief was short-lived because when I looked at her face, I could see a dull line of blue forming around her lips. She made a small wheeze, like breathing was becoming even more difficult.

I had to get help. Miles would immediately take her to a doctor if he saw her like this. He would know that she was sick. He would no longer think that I was overreacting and being emotional. We could save our baby from whatever was happening to her.

My heart was pounding as I ran to the kitchen. I shifted Briar's weight so that I could hold her in one arm. I grabbed the doorknob, but it did not turn. Why could Joseph not be careless today? Why could he not accidentally leave the door locked again? They were somewhere on the farm, and I needed to gain their attention. I banged on the door with my fist, praying that someone was close enough to hear.

"Miles!" I yelled. "Joseph!"

Briar's nostrils were still flared, and her lips were still blue. She did not look worse, but she was not getting any better.

"Help!" I screamed, my voice drenched in panic. "Please! Briar needs help! Miles, she is sick!"

My hand hurt from how hard I was pounding my fists against the door. I tried the doorknob again. Maybe the lock would break if I turned it hard enough. Maybe if I hit the wood even harder it would split and break. Hearing Briar's wheeze made my thoughts cloudy with fear.

"Miles!" I screamed. "Miles, I need you!"

Tears rolled down my cheeks while I screamed. No one could hear me, and my panic was upsetting Briar. She started to fuss, and I had to stop pounding on the door so I could hold onto her better. She kicked her arms and legs as she cried. I tried to rock and calm her, but her cries turned into screams.

I could no longer see the changes in Briar's breathing because of her crying, but her scream sounded different. The sound was much weaker than usual. Her face was red, and tears rolled down her cheeks. I held her tight to my chest as I tried to calm her, but I was overtaken with panic. My breathing was heavy as I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed.

Her cry grew weaker, and I could hear her wheezing. I wanted to scream louder to gain Miles or Joseph's attention, but it was pointless. Neither of them were close enough to hear me. I needed to take care of Briar until they came inside for dinner in a few hours. The more she screamed, the worse she sounded. I needed to keep her calm.

I turned and pressed my back against the door. Despite all the attempts to calm Briar, her screaming continued. My knees wobbled as the terrible thoughts of her dying filled my mind. I slid down the door until I hit the floor. I cried as I continued to try to calm Briar.

Time felt like it was frozen as I waited for them to come back inside.

–

I did not move from the floor until I heard the key turning into the lock. Briar had cried herself to sleep, and I was afraid to move. I did not want to wake her and cause her to start crying again. Hearing her weak screams made my heart feel like it had stopped beating.

I kept Briar in my arms and managed to stand before the door opened. Miles walked into the kitchen and froze when he saw me. I probably looked like a mess from not sleeping all night and spending the afternoon crying on the floor.

"It happened again," I said. "Miles, she's sick. We need to get her help."

Miles closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. The door opened wider as Joseph stumbled into the house. His hair was a ruffled mess, and stubble was across his jaw. Dark circles were under his eyes, like he also had not slept throughout the night. He must have also been worried about Briar. He reeked of whiskey as he dragged his feet over to the table and sat in his chair. Leaning forward, he chewed on his bottom lip as he watched us.

"Briar's breathing changed again, but this time it was worse," I said. "We need to get her to a doctor."

Miles looked down at Briar. She was still asleep in my arms, but there was still a slight flare in her nostrils.

"She looks the same," he said.

"Miles, I am telling you that there is something wrong," I said. "I saw and heard it. She is really sick."

He reached forward and grabbed Briar from my arms. Hopefully, having her closer would allow him to see the changes. Briar's eyes did not flutter and she did not stir in his arms. Miles looked over at Joseph, who was shaking his head.

"Maisie," Joseph said, his voice was rough and scratchy. "Where is dinner?"

I furrowed my brows. Anger pumped through my veins as I looked at my sick baby and then the empty stove.

"Dinner?" I asked in disbelief. "I was busy keeping my daughter alive."

"Briar is not sick," Miles said.

"Why do you not believe me?" I asked. "I am telling you that she is sick. I saw it myself. She is going to die if we do not do anything."

My voice cracked as I started to sob. I wanted to keep begging, but I could not get the words out. I took in sharp breaths to try and calm myself as I hastily wiped the tears off my cheeks.

"You're being emotional," Miles said.

"I'm not emotional!" I shouted.

Miles looked at Joseph. A small flicker of hope ran through me, as I thought he was looking for approval to take Briar to a doctor. Last night, Joseph saw how sick she was. He knew his granddaughter needed help.

Joseph cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders before he spoke.

"You remember what I said," he told Miles. "It's not hurting her. It's a lesson."

"We are finally bringing her to a doctor?" I asked.

"Maisie, we need to fix your attitude. You focused on your irrational fears and did not do your chores today."

"My chores?"

"We were outside doing what we needed to do to provide for this family. Your responsibility is to care for us when we come inside."

"I did not do one day of cleaning because I was taking care of my sick daughter."

"You should have had dinner ready for us."

"If you can get yourself drunk, then you can make yourself dinner."

Joseph's eyes darkened as he glared at me. My hands trembled as I wiped away more of the tears. How could he speak to me this way? He knew Briar needed help.

"You won't be hurting her," Joseph said to Miles. "But you cannot let her keep acting like this. She cannot disrespect us like this."

Miles glanced down at Briar before walking toward the table. Joseph sat up straighter, and I realized Miles was going to give him Briar. I did not want a drunk holding my baby, especially one who was angry with me and not thinking clearly. Rushing forward, I grabbed Miles's arm, but he was able to shake me off. He placed Briar, who was still asleep, into Joseph's arms. Before I could get any closer to Joseph, Miles turned, and he blocked me with his body.

"Give me Briar!" I screamed.

"Maisie, you need to be quiet," Miles said. "Go upstairs to our room."

I raised a brow as I looked up at his blank expression.

"Why?" I asked.

"Go upstairs," he said again.

"No." I shook my head. "Why are we not getting Briar any help? Why are you treating me like I am insane? Why will you not help your daughter?"

Miles grabbed my arm and pushed me toward the staircase. My feet stumbled from his rough movements. I swung my hand to punch him, which worsened my balance. Miles grabbed my other arm to stop me from crumpling on the floor, but he kept pushing me toward the staircase. My heart pounded as I flailed in his grip.

"Let go of me!" I screamed.

Miles let out a deep breath before letting go of my arms. My freedom was brief because when I tried to rush toward Joseph, he wrapped his arms tight around my body. My arms were now pinned to my side, giving him better control over me. I screamed as I tried to break out of his hold. No noises came from Briar. How was she sleeping through all of this?

"Maisie, you need to calm down," Miles said.

He pushed me toward the stairs. I could not move my arms, so I could only fight back with my legs. I tried to dig my heels into the floor to slow him down, but it was pointless. He was able to easily lift me off my feet and carry me to the stairs.

Why did he want me to go upstairs? What was he planning? Was he trying to separate me from Briar? What were they planning on doing to my daughter?

I swung my leg back and kicked Miles in the shin. He cried out in pain as he dropped me onto the floor. I scrambled to get onto my feet, but Miles was soon on top of me. He grabbed my shoulder and rolled me onto my back. He placed his knees on either side of my hips to pin me to the floor. I balled up my fist to hit him, but he snatched my wrist and held it against the floor. Fighting against Miles was useless, but my body was overcome with panic. His face remained blank and expressionless.

"You cannot keep doing this," he said. "Nothing is wrong with Briar. You are overreacting."

"Miles, she needs help!" I screamed.

"No." Miles shook his head. "I need to help you. You cannot keep acting like this, and you need to stop. I am not going to deal with your crying anymore."

Miles glanced at Joseph and tightened his grip on my wrist. In the morning, I would probably have a bruise. I rolled my head to the side, but my view of Joseph's body was blocked by the table.

"We need to start enforcing rules in this house," Joseph said. "Maisie, there will be consequences for your actions."

Miles looked back down at me. He was silent, and I could see the slight change in his expression. His jaw hardened like he was gritting his teeth. What were these consequences? Why would I be punished for trying to save our daughter's life?

He kept a hold on my wrist as he pulled his knife out of his pocket.