I was only trying to help. Jenna thought to herself, looking out at the rain.

She was contemplating asking for guidance, but she did not know how to start. She was practicing what she would say. "Three weeks ago, just twenty one days, on a Monday, I was late to work and saw a car halfway broken down on the road." Yes this was true.

No wait. Her conscience interrupted. It started much longer ago than three weeks.

It started just over a decade before, when after being married a few years, they tried to have children. And tried. As the months became years, Jenna became obsessed with a baby.

She often focused on the things she lost to her motherhood obsession. She lost her husband to it. Sold the four bedroom house in the suburbs. Friends began to avoid her as they either had their own families or desired to talk about anything beyond Jenna's need of a baby. She lost her savings to medical debt of trying. Everything was gone, except the desire.

The nagging need for a child to call her own.

"I was only trying to help." She said. Watery eyes, nervous hands reflected back from the window she looked out.

"And then three weeks ago, on a Monday, not very long at all, really, if you think about it, not even a full month".

It was also the day before her period would start. Should she include that? She always thought of time as cycles, particularly her cycles. She continued, her practice confession, leaving it out for now.

"I was running late to work, and there was a car, half off the side of the road. And I am not really a person to go and check on a broken down car, but I felt a calling to do so. And after a few minutes, I decided to go check. As it was, in these narrow streets I could not get around the car, and like I said, I was running late, and turning around would make me even later."

"What time did you get to work?" They ask.

"Oh, actually, I didn't ever get to work. What happened was, when I approached the car a young woman was slumped over. Blonde hair, bad skin, looked like the girl next door gone wrong. Syringe in her arm. I. . . I. . . I. . ." This part was tricky. Jenna knew the girl's name was Ashley Chamberlain found dead of an apparent heroin overdose three weeks ago. Should she say that? She decides to leave it out. Jenna only knows it from the news, and she did not know it at the time.

"But there in the backseat was the most adorable little girl. She looked to be just over a year old. Eyes brimming with tears. When she saw me through the window she raised her arms and reached for me. I felt I should take her. That horrible woman did not even know what a precious gift she had, risking her life, that beautiful child's life." Jenna felt her voice rising. She knew that would hurt her confession. But still, she thought terrible things about the dead mother.

"So I brought her home and kept her."

"How did you do that?" They ask.

"It was easy. I knew from watching tv, to get my emergency winter gloves out of the car. No fingerprints. Took her out, took her diaper bag and left. I felt very guilty about only putting her in a seat belt and not a child's car seat in my car."

"I turned my car around. I went home. I named her Madeline. I didn't know until the news reported her missing that her name was Madison, how etched in the stars it would be. I named her practically her own name, because she is meant to be mine."

Jenna shakes her head. She feels her confession will make her look like a felon. To clear her head she walks in the living room, where Madeline is playing, and turns on the television.

"Infant remains found in woods--thought to be Madison Chamberlain, child missing after mother found dead". Says the newscaster.

"Not a confession. A back story. That is what I need, instead."