Chapter 2 - The Final Morning and the Tragic Loss
On the final morning, my knees gave out before he was finished. He cursed, loosened the rope, and dragged me through the back door while my mother-in-law complained that I was being dramatic. The old phone was still recording inside the pillow when they threw me onto the bed.
I waited until they argued in the kitchen.
Then I reached inside the pillowcase, slid the phone into the pocket of my loose dress, and held it there with both hands.
At the county hospital, the fluorescent lights were too bright and the sheets smelled like bleach. A doctor stood beside my bed with his jaw tight and his voice unsteady.
“The baby was a boy… but the damage was too much.”
For several seconds, I heard nothing except the monitor and my own breath breaking apart.
A boy.
The son they claimed they wanted more than anything.
May you like
Gone because of what they had done.
My husband did not come into the room. He stayed in the hallway with his mother, telling anyone who would listen that I had fallen in the backyard. Then I heard them laugh—low, relieved laughter from two people who believed the story had ended exactly where they wanted it to.
