After Eight Forced Miscarriages, I Vanished Forever

"Still trying to talk your way out? I caught you red-handed—what could you possibly have to say?"

He pressed down harder with his foot. Something in my cheekbone creaked.

"Tie her up! Watch her around the clock!"

Two bodyguards rushed in and bound me with coarse hemp rope, arms wrenched behind my back.

The cord bit into my flesh so deep I nearly blacked out from the pain.

Aunt Jocelyn was sobbing and begging beside me, but Vivian backhanded her to the ground.

"Shut your mouth, you old hag! You don't get a say here! One more word and I'll deal with you too!"

They threw me onto the freezing dirt floor and left without a backward glance.

00:00:00.

Sixty hours left.

I closed my eyes. The cold seeped up from the ground and settled in my bones, and everything beyond it—the rope burns, the swelling in my face—faded to a dull, faraway throb, until all I could feel was the weight of the dark pressing down.

Was I really meant to die in this basement?

No. I wouldn't give up.

I thrashed against the ropes with everything I had.

But the hemp was tied too tight. It was useless.

I clenched my jaw and started gnawing at the knot with my teeth.

Blood ran from the corners of my mouth and soaked into my collar.

I didn't know how long it took, but the knot finally loosened, just barely.

Hope surged through me and I bit faster.

That was when the basement door swung open.

Cecil walked in with several people in white coats behind him. He didn't look at me. He looked through me.

"Check her."

The doctors came forward, pulled my clothes apart, and pressed their instruments against my belly.

"Mr. Delgado, the heartbeat is very weak. And…"

The doctor trailed off, his expression grim.

"And what? Spit it out!"

Cecil's voice was sharp with impatience.

"The genes have mutated. If this child is born, it'll almost certainly be deformed."

Cecil's face went ashen. He kicked the metal cabinet so hard it buckled.

"Deformed? You think Ruby wants a deformed thing for a toy? Get it out of her—now. I don't want a trace left!"

Ruby clung to Cecil's arm, tears sliding down her face.

"Cecil, the poor little thing. Once they take it out, I'll put it in a jar of formaldehyde—make a nice display piece. I'll keep it company every day."

I stared at them, eyes burning with hatred.

This was the man I'd loved for ten years.

He was going to kill his own flesh and blood with his own hands.

I hated him. I hated them all.

Then a second doctor came rushing down the stairs, medical kit banging against his leg.

He pressed a stethoscope to my belly, shifted it once, twice, and pulled back like that was all he needed.

He scribbled across a prescription form without looking up.

My struggling, he announced, had wrecked the fetus's genes beyond repair. The child would be born deformed—and the condition could spread to Ruby if she stayed under the same roof.

Cecil grabbed a fistful of my tattered nightgown and ripped it the rest of the way apart. He jerked his chin toward the iron cot in the corner.

"Right here. Cut it out of her. Now. I don't want so much as a cell left behind."

Ruby pressed herself against Cecil's arm, lip trembling on cue, voice dripping with sweetness.

"Cecil, it's just so sad. After they take it out, I'll find the prettiest formaldehyde jar and float it inside—a little keepsake. I'll look at it every single day."

The anesthesia needle inched closer.

I didn't struggle. Not even a flinch. Instead, every taut muscle in my body went slack, and I lay flat on the iron cot.

Cecil's hand froze mid-air, his brow knotting tight.

His voice turned harsh.

"Why aren't you on your knees begging me to hit you this time? Putting on another act? What's the trick this time?"

I turned my face away and didn't look at him again.

That was when the countdown in my mind hit zero.

00:00:00.

A cold electronic tone cut through everything—forced elimination, activated.

Countdown: zero.

Forced erasure protocol engaged.

Execution method: gas pipeline explosion.

The blast ripped through the basement gas line with a deafening roar.

A wall of fire swallowed the iron bed in an instant, wrapping me and my unborn child in flames.

Heat rolled over everything.

But I felt no pain. Only a strange, weightless relief.

It was finally over.

I closed my eyes.

Goodbye.

Cecil.

May we never meet again, in this life or any other.