THE FOREST SPITS me out like poison, my ragged breaths piercing the night. Moonlight slices through the trees, illuminating a clearing filled with flashing red and blue. Police cars. My vision swims as I stumble forward, one hand clutching my aching abdomen. I can't remember how I got here. Everything's a blur of terror and pain. My clothes hang in tatters, caked with dirt and God knows what else. Tears carve paths down my filthy cheeks.

Just a few more steps. Help is so close.

My legs give out and I crumple to the ground. The world tilts sideways as voices erupt around me, urgent and concerned. Footsteps thunder in my direction.

"Miss! Can you hear me?" A man's face swims into focus, his brow furrowed with worry. "What's your name?"

I try to speak but my throat constricts. All I manage is a strangled whimper.

"It's okay, take your time," he soothes, kneeling beside me. His uniform is crisp, at odds with the chaos I feel inside. "You're safe now."

Safe. The word echoes in my mind, foreign and unreal. Will I ever feel safe again after what happened in those woods?

"S-Savina," I finally croak out. "My name is Savina."

The officer nods, relief flickering across his features. "Savina, we're going to take care of you. Can you tell us what happened?"

Panic claws at my chest. I don't want to remember, don't want to relive it. But the memories threaten to overwhelm me, a tidal wave of horror I can't hold back.

"I...I can't," I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut. "Please, I just need help."

I blink rapidly, struggling to focus on the officer's face hovering above me. The world is a blur of flashing lights and shadowy figures. My lips part, but words fail me, fragmenting into incoherent sounds laced with terror.

"It's alright," the officer murmurs, his voice a lifeline in the chaos. "Take your time, Savina. You're safe now."

Safe. The word feels hollow, a lie I desperately want to believe. My mind races, flashes of the forest, of hands grabbing me, of pain...

"I..." I gasp, my throat raw. "I can't... remember..."

"That's okay," he reassures me, leaning closer. "Just tell us what you can."

His proximity should be comforting, but my body tenses instinctively. I try to shrink away, my hands moving protectively to my abdomen. The officer's eyes follow the movement, a flicker of understanding crossing his face.

"Savina, is there something you need to tell us?"

My breath hitches, a sob threatening to escape. The truth claws its way up my throat, demanding to be heard. I lock eyes with the officer, mustering every ounce of courage I have left.

"I'm pregnant," I whisper, the words hanging in the air like a death sentence.

The officer's expression shifts, shock giving way to something darker. In that moment, I realize my ordeal is far from over. The revelation ripples through the gathered officers like a shockwave. Their faces contort, concern morphing into disbelief, then something darker - a mix of pity and revulsion that makes my skin crawl.

"Jesus Christ," one mutters, turning away.

Another, a woman with hard eyes, barks into her radio: "Dispatch, we need that ambulance here now. Possible assault victim, pregnant." Her voice cracks on the last word.

I curl inward, shame burning through me. What have I done? What will they think of me?

The night air carries whispers, and I realize we're not alone. Neighbors crowd at the edge of the scene, their faces ghoulishly lit by the strobing red and blue. Their hushed voices reach me in fragments:

"...the Graves girl?"

"...always knew she was trouble..."

"...who's the father?"

I want to scream, to tell them they don't know anything. But my voice is trapped, my body leaden. The wail of approaching sirens cuts through the murmurs. It should be a relief, but panic claws at my chest. I don't want to go. I don't want to face what comes next.

"Please," I rasp, grabbing the officer's sleeve. "Don't let them take me."

His eyes soften, but I see the resolve there. "We need to get you checked out, Savina. For your safety. And..." he hesitates, glancing at my stomach.

I know what he's not saying. For the baby's safety. The baby I'm not even sure I want.

The ambulance's headlights sweep across us, and the neighbors press closer, hungry for a glimpse of the spectacle I've become. I shrink away from their prying eyes, curling into myself as if I could disappear. My arms wrap protectively around my midsection, a reflexive gesture that feels foreign and terrifying. The weight of their stares, their judgments, crashes over me in suffocating waves.

"It's okay, Savina," the officer's voice cuts through my panic, low and steady. He crouches beside me, blocking some of the onlookers from view. "You're safe now. We're going to take care of you."

I meet his gaze, searching for any hint of deceit or disgust. But all I see is genuine concern. It's almost worse than judgment – I don't deserve kindness.

"Can you stand?" he asks gently.

I nod, not trusting my voice. As he helps me to my feet, my legs tremble like a newborn fawn's. The officer's arm wraps around my waist, supporting most of my weight.

"One step at a time," he murmurs. "We're just going to the ambulance. Nothing to worry about."

But there's everything to worry about. With each unsteady step, the reality of my situation crashes over me anew. I'm pregnant. I'm alone. And the whole town will know by morning.

"They're all watching," I whisper, my voice raw with fear.

The officer squeezes my arm reassuringly. "Don't think about them. Focus on me, okay? We're almost there."

I cling to his words like a lifeline as we make our slow progress towards the waiting ambulance. My mind reels, fragments of the night flashing before my eyes like a broken film reel. Shadows dancing on bark. The crunch of leaves underfoot. A glint of metal in moonlight. I shudder, gripping the officer's arm tighter.

"You're doing great," he encourages, but his voice seems distant, muffled by the roaring in my ears.

I force myself to focus on the present. One foot in front of the other. The gravel crunches beneath my bare feet, each step sending jolts of pain up my legs. I wonder absently where I lost my shoes. The ambulance looms before us, its red and blue lights pulsing in hypnotic rhythm. As we approach, the back doors swing open with a metallic groan. Two paramedics hop out, their faces a blur of professional concern.

"What've we got?" one asks, her voice clipped and efficient.

The officer speaks, but I can't make out the words. My world narrows to the feeling of hands on me – gentle, probing, clinical. I flinch involuntarily.

"It's okay, sweetie," the female paramedic soothes. "We're just checking you over. Can you tell me where it hurts?"

I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. How can I explain that everything hurts? That the pain goes beyond the physical?

"She's pregnant," the officer interjects softly.

The paramedics exchange a loaded glance. "Alright," the male one nods. "Let's get her to the hospital. We'll do a full workup there."

As they prepare to move me, panic claws at my throat. "Wait," I rasp, turning to the officer. "Don't... don't leave me."

His eyes soften with compassion. "I'll be right behind you, Savina. I promise."

I want to believe him. I want to believe that someone in this godforsaken town actually cares. But as the paramedics gently guide me towards the ambulance, all I can think is: that nothing will ever be the same again. I'm lifted onto the stretcher, my body trembling uncontrollably. The paramedics work with practiced efficiency, strapping me in and attaching monitors. The cold plastic against my skin makes me shiver.

"Blood pressure's low," the female paramedic mutters, her brow furrowed.

I close my eyes, willing the world to disappear. Flashes of memory assault me – rough hands, cruel laughter, searing pain. I whimper involuntarily.

"Shh, you're safe now," the male paramedic reassures me, adjusting an IV line. "We're going to take good care of you."

The EMTs begin to prepare to slam the doors shut, muffling the chaos outside. As they strap me in to prepare to leave, I force my eyes open, desperate for one last glimpse of the officer – my lifeline in this nightmare. Through the small window, I see him standing there, his face etched with concern. Our eyes lock for a brief moment before he turns away, shoulders slumping under an invisible weight.

"What's going to happen to me?" I whisper, my voice barely audible over the wail of the siren.

The female paramedic squeezes my hand. "One step at a time, honey. Let's get you to the hospital first."

As the ambulance closes its door the taillights fade into the distance, giving me some sort of privacy with the vultures of Haven Falls. Their hungry eyes devour every detail, lips moving in hushed whispers that carry on the night air like poison.

"Did you see her? God, she looked—"

"I heard she's—"

"What kind of monster would—"

I clench my jaw, fighting the urge to scream at them. Instead, I look at the officer, my teeth feeling like I'd been crunching on gravel. "Alright, folks. Show's over. Time to head home."

Mrs. Abernathy, her curlers peeking out from beneath a faded housecoat, fixes me with a beady stare. "Officer Reeves, surely you can tell us something. We have a right to know what's happening in our town."

The officer meet her gaze, unflinching. "What's happening, Mrs. Abernathy, is that a young woman needs medical attention and privacy. The department will release a statement when appropriate."

A chorus of dissatisfied grumbles ripples through the crowd. Officer Reeve raises his voice, injecting steel into his tone. "I mean it. Go home. Now. Or I'll start handing out citations for obstruction."

Reluctantly, they begin to disperse. I watch them go, my mind racing. Christ. What the hell happened out there in those woods? I didn't want to remember.

As the last of the vultures slink away, I allow myself a moment. I watch as the officer leans against his cruiser, the metal cool against his palms. The weight of what's coming settles on my shoulders like a lead blanket.

Watching the Officer slide into the driver's seat of his patrol car, the EMTs move around me as they gather my vitals and begin to head to the hospital. Turning my head, the dashboard clock blinks 3:17 AM, but sleep is the furthest thing from my mind. I rest my head against the stretcher, taking a deep breath that does little to calm the storm brewing inside me.

"Fuck," I mutter, the word hanging heavy in the air.

I sit up, feeling them starting the engine. The low rumble fills the night, matching the unease churning in my gut. As we begin to pull away from the scene, my eyes drift to the scene behind the cop car following the ambulance. The flashing lights of the remaining squad cars paint the trees in an eerie, pulsing glow.

Haven Falls will never be the same after tonight. And neither will I.