A Taste of the Mistress' Revenge

When I woke up, the world was dark and suffocating. My wrists and ankles burned from the rough rope binding them, and my face felt raw where the tape stretched across my mouth. The van jolted over uneven roads, each bump sending pain shooting through my aching body. I wanted to cry, to scream, but exhaustion pulled at me, the weight of everything that had happened crashing down. My mother. Jenny. Gone. My home, my life—reduced to nothing but smoke and blood.

I fought back, I remembered that much. But there were too many of them. And now, I was here—being carted off to some unknown fate. My baby stirred inside me, a soft fluttering that reminded me why I couldn’t give up. I had to survive. I had to protect the only thing I had left.

At some point, the fight drained out of me. My eyes closed, and the darkness swallowed me whole.

When I woke again, the air was stale and cold. My head pounded, and my limbs were stiff from being tied for so long. I opened my eyes to dim light filtering through cracks in the wooden walls. It was an abandoned place—dusty, silent, and filled with the scent of decay. My hands were still bound, my mouth still taped. Panic threatened to rise, but I forced myself to stay calm. The baby needed me strong.

Time passed slowly. I lost track of the hours. Then, finally, I heard footsteps—two sets. The door creaked open, and two men walked in. They were rough-looking, their eyes hard and suspicious.

“She’s awake,” one of them grunted.

“Good. Means less dead weight,” the other sneered.

I knew I had to think fast. I mumbled against the tape, trying to get their attention. They exchanged glances before one of them walked over and ripped the tape off my mouth. I bit back a cry of pain.

“I—I need the bathroom,” I said, my voice trembling. “Please. I’m pregnant. I—”

Their eyes flickered with hesitation. The one closest to me frowned. “We’re not supposed to—”

“Please,” I begged, my voice cracking. “I need to go. The baby—”

After a tense moment, they relented. “Fine. But no funny business.”

They untied my ankles and guided me to a filthy, rundown bathroom. Once inside, they stayed close, but I used the door for cover. My heart pounded as I scanned the tiny space, searching for anything I could use. I spotted a rusted pipe jutting out from the wall. Grabbing it, I twisted hard until it broke free with a soft crack.

The second they opened the door, I struck. The pipe hit one of them across the head, and he crumpled with a groan. The other lunged, but desperation gave me strength. I jabbed the pipe into his stomach and ran.

The cold air hit me as I burst out of the building, my legs screaming in protest. I didn’t look back. The sound of shouts followed me, but I pushed forward, my baby’s safety the only thing on my mind.

I ran until my lungs burned and my vision blurred. When I heard their voices getting closer, I spotted a large, empty barrel and crawled inside, curling up and trying to quiet my ragged breaths. The voices passed, and eventually, the night grew silent.

When I emerged, the world was still and dark. I stumbled forward, every muscle aching, until I saw the silhouette of a field house in the distance. With the last of my strength, I made my way inside.

The pain started soon after.

It hit fast and hard, and I knew—I was going into labor. Fear gripped me, but there was no time for it. I had no choice but to deliver my baby alone.

Hours passed in a haze of agony and determination. And then, finally, the cries of my baby girl filled the air.

Tears streamed down my face as I held her close, her tiny body warm against mine. For the first time in what felt like forever, hope blossomed in my chest. “Chloe... My baby...”

But exhaustion won. My eyes closed, and the world faded.

When I woke up, she was gone.

Panic tore through me as I scrambled to my feet, searching the field house. I called out, my voice breaking, but there was no answer. My baby—my precious baby—was gone.

I ran outside, the cold biting into my skin, but I didn’t care. I ran and ran, searching the endless fields, my heart pounding in terror. But there was nothing. No sign of her.

Desperation drove me to the highway. The sound of an approaching car made me stumble forward, waving my arms. The last thing I saw was the blinding glare of headlights before the impact.

And then—darkness.

When I woke again, the scent of antiseptic filled my nose. I blinked against the harsh hospital lights, my body heavy and aching. And then the memories crashed down on me.

My baby.

I tried to sit up, but pain held me down. Tears filled my eyes.

“Where’s my baby?” I whispered.

No one answered.