[thoughtless]

He felt like he was in a fog, like a terrible dream, as if the pain, the ringing in his ears, and the blood that stuck to his skin wasn't real. If he squeezed his eyes tight and then opened them again everything would be back to normal. He would be walking home gain and not beaten and bloody, left for dead on a sidewalk.

He took a deep, ragged breath. His ribs seared with pain and he was quite sure some had to be broken. Still, the air started to clear his head some and the first coherent thought was "help". He needed help. He couldn't stay here on the street. He needed a hospital.

"Nnn...." he gritted his teeth as he moved his hand to his belly. His baby needed a hospital. Whatever they had done to him, they had done to his child too. "Mmm...." he gently rubbed in circles, hoping the rhythm would give him a sign of life within--a kick, a movement, anything--but he felt nothing, only the continuous ache in his back, and the unsettling stretch deep within him. "Stay with me..." he mummbled through bloodied lips. Oh god, he needed help

As if in response, another contraction gripped him. "Mmm.... he moaned, bobbing his head back and forth as the word 'help' still flashed in his mind. Tears flowed down his cheeks "Stay with me..." he whispered again.