After Eight Forced Miscarriages, I Vanished ForeverChapter 1
Every one of the first eight pregnancies, Cecil Delgado beat me until I hemorrhaged. Every time, it was the manic episodes.
Afterward, he'd kneel in my blood, slapping himself across the face, driving a knife into his own thigh, begging me to forgive him.
I pitied him. I buried the grief of losing child after child and stayed to help him through treatment.
Then came the ninth pregnancy. Cecil didn't go mad.
He peeled an orange, lit a cigarette, and spoke like he was discussing the weather.
"Eight rounds of faking it. I'd say that's enough."
He watched my face go rigid, and smiled.
"The truth is, there was never anything wrong with me."
"Ruby Mercer has leukemia. She needed embryonic stem-cell matches—nothing more."
Vivian Abbott sat nearby flipping through medical files, not even looking up.
"The stem cells extracted from eight dead fetuses were just enough for eight courses of treatment. Ruby finished her last one yesterday. Fully recovered."
Cecil stroked my hair, his voice soft.
"So carry this one to term. Ruby could use a little toy to play with."
I swallowed the taste of blood in my throat. I didn't ask why.
I closed my eyes and opened the countdown in my mind.
Redemption mission failed. Forced termination commencing.
——
The countdown blazed behind my eyes: 72:00:00, digits hammering.
I dug my nails into my palms hard enough to break skin, forced every sound back down my throat, and threw the thin blanket off my body.
Cecil crushed the half-smoked cigarette into the nightstand.
His knuckles cracked as his fist tightened.
He crossed the room in two strides and seized me by the collar.
"What are you throwing a tantrum for? Ruby just recovered from a serious illness. She needs a toy to keep her company. Being allowed to carry one for her is your good fortune. Don't mistake kindness for weakness."
I grabbed the pill bottle beside my pillow and hurled it at the wall.
Glass shattered across the floor. Pills scattered everywhere.
"If you needed stem cells, why not just say so? Why fake episodes and beat me until I bled out? Eight times! What am I to you?"
Vivian stepped forward, brushed the shards off the bedsheet, and folded her arms with a cold snort.