Chapter 2

It had been going on like this for half a month.

I'd barely slept a full night through.

The moment I closed my eyes, a baby's crying rose up in my ears.

My hair had started coming out in fistfuls.

Hot water ran down over my head.

I lifted a hand to feel it, and my palm came away full of wet black strands.

The drain at my feet was already clogged.

The water rose higher and higher, creeping over the tops of my feet.

I shut off the showerhead, crouched on the floor, and started gathering up the tangled hair.

But no matter how I tried, I couldn't get it all.

Then came a knock at the door.

"How long does a shower take?"

Mom's voice carried through the door.

"Maisie says soaking too long chills you and hurts your chances of conceiving."

I clutched that clump of hair, my fingertips trembling and I couldn't stop them.

"Mom…"

"I think I can hear the baby crying."

Outside, there was a beat of silence.

The bathroom door was pushed open.

Mom walked over to the bed and glanced at the speaker, which wasn't lit up.

"The speaker isn't even on. Are you trying to scare us on purpose?"

I froze where I was.

But the crying was still there in my ears.

Very faint.

One cry after another.

As if it came from inside the wall.

Or as if it had been hiding in my head all along.

Not bothering to dry my hair, I ran barefoot out of the bathroom.

Sylvester was sitting in the living room.

I grabbed his hand, my voice close to begging.

"Sylvester, take me to the hospital."

"I can't even tell anymore whether the crying is real."

"If this keeps up, I'll go mad."

Sylvester's face changed, and he immediately picked up his car keys.

He was about to take me out when Maisie came out of the study again.

"She can't go."

She blocked the doorway, her tone completely certain.

"A psychiatrist is just going to end up prescribing medication."

"Those drugs affect hormones, and they harm the body too."

"Right now the most important thing for her is to get back into shape for conceiving as soon as possible."

Sylvester stopped, wavering a little.

"But she's already hearing things."

Maisie let out a soft sigh.

"That's not hallucination. It's just trauma memory that hasn't been processed correctly."

"I can help her do a trauma recall."

"Once she gets everything that's weighing on her out, she'll naturally get better."

I stepped back on instinct.

"I don't need that. I want to go to the hospital."

Maisie turned to look at Sylvester.

"See, she's running away again."

"If you keep giving in to her now, she'll only grow more and more dependent on being sick."

Sylvester held the car keys.

After a moment, he set them back down on the table.

"Then let's try your way first."

A faint smile touched the corner of Maisie's mouth.

She turned and walked into the room, then laid out the medical records from both miscarriages on the table.

"Start from the first miscarriage."

"How many months along were you then?"

"How much blood did you lose?"

"When the doctor announced there was no heartbeat, what were you thinking?"

I stared at that little set of baby clothes, my throat as if something were jammed hard against it.

I couldn't get out a single word.

Maisie pushed the records in front of me.

"Not speaking means you still haven't accepted reality."

"We have plenty of time today. We can take it slow."

The living room was full of people.

Mom, my mother-in-law, Sylvester.

They were all watching me.

No one spoke.

As if waiting for me to complete some test I had to pass.

Maisie asked again.

"The first child, how did you lose it?"

I looked up at Sylvester.

During my first pregnancy, he'd gotten the checkup time wrong.

I waited a long while outside the hospital, and a speeding car hit me by accident.

The eight-month baby died in the womb, and I had to be induced.

That day Sylvester knelt in front of me and cried for a long time.

Over and over he swore.

"It's all right if we don't have a child. I'll love you my whole life."

The first pot of jasmine was one he planted at that time.

He held me and said, "When it hurts, just look at the flowers."

"Spring is here. They'll bloom again."

"It'll all pass. We'll have children yet."

It was those flowers that carried me slowly through the first miscarriage.

But now.

The flowers had been thrown out by Maisie.

My painting supplies had been smashed to pieces by her too.

The man who once covered my ears was sitting beside her now.

Listening to her force me to recall, again and again, the details of my child dying.

Maisie's voice came again.

"Why did you cross the road alone back then?"

"If you'd been a little more careful, wouldn't that car have missed you?"

My head snapped up.

"That wasn't my fault."

The living room went silent in an instant.

I thought Sylvester would step in front of me the way he had back then.

But he only looked away.

"It's all in the past."

"Maisie isn't assigning blame. She's just helping you face reality."

Maisie tapped the timer on her phone.

"Let's continue."

"Start from when you walked out of the hospital and saw that car."

My breathing turned ragged all at once.

The blare of the car's horn, the glaring headlights, and the blood that kept pouring out of me.

Every image came back before my eyes.

I couldn't hold it in anymore.

I snatched the medical records off the table and hurled them at her.

"Get out!"

"I don't want to talk anymore!"

The records scattered across the floor.

A sharp edge of paper cut across Maisie's face.

She pressed a hand to the wound, and tears spilled out at once.

Sylvester shot to his feet and pulled her into his arms.

"Joyce, what has gotten into you?"

He clamped down on my wrist.

"Maisie is trying to help you out of kindness. Why would you hurt her?"

I looked at this man in front of me, his face full of anger.

And suddenly I remembered, after the first miscarriage.

He had stood there just like this, eyes red, swearing he'd protect me for the rest of my life.

Now, his attitude hadn't changed.

It was only that the person he shielded behind him was no longer me.