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“Do you need help, miss?”

I glanced up from my phone to notice the man offering to help the girl pry the train window open.

“No! Stay away!” she shouted, continuing to wrestle with the window latch.

He put his hands up in defensive confusion and went back to his spot a few rows back. I assumed she was concerned about anyone getting that close to her baby, who was bundled in the carrier next to her on the seat.

She finally wrenched it open. Then she turned, picked up the baby, and flung her out the window.

I screamed at the same time as other onlookers. A few people ran on the platform in the direction the baby had flown, hoping, I imagined, to stop the train and get outside. I thought to push the emergency button at the same time that another person pushed an identical one on the other side of the train.

Everyone was shouting, but the girl did not acknowledge anyone around her. She sat in her seat and cried uncontrollably.

There were seven of us called to serve as witnesses in her trial. I had not been on another train since that day, but it was my only way to Stanger. I sat in silence the entire ride.

I’d avoided the news about it, not wanting to be brought back to that horrible moment, but I’d heard a number of things and still couldn’t understand why she did it. Especially because I’d spent the last year wanting a baby so badly. We’d spent so much money on fertility treatments, while she had the nerve to be ungrateful. Why would she even have a baby if she was going to do this?

The prosecution showed that she was a wreck of bad decisions. Her parents had had to hold her under lock and key when they’d caught her trying to flee the state. With the baby now born, they had been sending her to Sanderson that day to stay with relatives going forward, a public denouncement of what they saw as a sin. Whoever the father had been, she had never told a soul and refused to name him under oath, instead of glaring at the lawyer while wiping away angry tears. She refused to answer most questions. Sulked. Gave insults. The jury members each held her in a spurning gaze.

I secretly wondered if even her public defender was on her side. It seemed odd that he let her testify. I tuned out whatever the defense said, too upset, and too in my head about the fact that I’d have to speak. I went up and plainly said what had happened, giving similar answers as the other witnesses.

The jury deliberated for six minutes.

When they led her away in handcuffs, she screamed, “I didn’t want to have her! I DIDN’T WANT TO HAVE HER! I DIDN’T WANT TO HAVE HER!” Her voice finally faded away.

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