Chapter 1

The day my pregnancy was confirmed, my husband forced me to get rid of the baby.

When I demanded to know why, his eyes were full of tenderness,

but his voice was merciless.

"Madeline Winfield found out today that her uterus is deformed. She'll never be a mother, not in this life."

"Bringing this baby into the world would only torment her. Let's give it up together, for her sake. Please?"

Another one of these suffocating collective punishments.

When Madeline couldn't sleep, he cut the power to the whole apartment and made me stay awake all night with her.

When Madeline got harassed online, he paid someone to pour red paint over my car so I could taste her panic for myself.

He always thought that as long as he bought me a bag afterward,

or cooked me a meal, I'd forgive him like I always had.

The anesthesia dragged my mind under,

and I stared, hard, at the face that had once taken a knife for me.

"Fine. As you wish."

...

1.

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in a hospital room, unable to move.

The last time I'd been in a hospital was two years ago.

My period had come and the cramps were so bad I couldn't straighten my back.

Otis James had been so frantic he barely got his shoes on before he scooped me up and rushed me here.

He carried a little notebook and wrote down every instruction the doctor gave.

He stayed at my side a full day and night without so much as loosening his clothes, not daring to close his eyes.

He made warm ginger tea with his own hands, the temperature just right, sweet on my tongue, warm all the way through.

But now, in this large hospital room, there was only me.

The anesthesia had fully worn off, and a fine, relentless cramping twisted through my lower belly.

Like countless knives, carving the flesh off me piece by piece.

I was instantly awake.

My baby was gone.

For one of Madeline's tears, he had actually killed my child with his own hands.

I pressed a hand over my flat stomach and sobbed until I couldn't breathe.

A nurse walked in carrying a tray of medicine, her tone surprised.

"Where's your husband? You just had a D&C. How could he leave you here all alone?"

I bit down on my bloodless lip and said nothing.

The nurse sighed, shook her head, changed my medication, and left.

My phone screen suddenly lit up. It was Otis.

"Agnes Simmons, Madeline is still crying. She's really unstable right now, so try to understand."

"Once I've calmed her down, I'll come straight back to you."

On the other end, I could hear Madeline's tearful voice.

"Otis, I'm not even a whole woman anymore..."

"Don't be scared, Madeline. I'm here."

Before I could get a word out, the call was hung up in a hurry.

My heart didn't ache anymore. I was used to it.

In all these days I'd been in the hospital, he'd come only once.

He brought a basket of fruit and said a few hollow words of comfort.

Every other sentence had "Madeline" in it.

I grabbed the glass vase off the table and hurled it down hard by his feet.

He frowned, spat out the word "impossible," and turned and walked away.

Over these six days, walking, eating, going to the bathroom had become the cruelest torture I could endure.

I dragged myself along, one hand braced against the wall, losing count of how many strangers in nearby beds I'd had to trouble.

Before this, even if I only caught a cold and sneezed,

he'd been terrified I might suffer, terrified I might be uncomfortable.

But now, I had just lost a child.

The seventh day after the loss.

It wasn't too much to ask the executioner himself to come and repent.

I called Otis, my voice cold.

"Come to the hospital today!"

He clearly hesitated. Then he agreed.

It was fully dark before Otis showed up.

Looking at how worn down I was, he sighed,

and just as he picked up the kettle to go get me some hot water, his phone rang.

He answered, and his face changed.

"Agnes, the power's out at Madeline's place. She's afraid of the dark. I have to go over right now."

He grabbed his coat, ready to leave.

Seven days of rage packed down inside me finally broke loose.

"Otis, do you even know what day it is today?!"

He stopped, turned back, his whole face full of disgust for me.

"Madeline is scared right now! What day is so important it can't wait?"

"When did you become so vicious?"

That look, so certain I was just throwing a tantrum, made me sick.

"Today is the seventh day since our baby died!"

"He never even got one look at this world, and you feel nothing? No guilt at all?"

My whole body shook, and the tears broke like a dam.

Otis only paused for a beat.

"It was just a formless clot of blood. What seventh day are you talking about?"

"If you want one so badly, once Madeline is stable again, I'll help you get pregnant with another. That's all."

He said it as if it were nothing.

So in his heart, our own flesh and blood was nothing more than a formless clot of blood.

My nails dug deep into my palms, and I couldn't feel the pain at all.

Seven years.

Those beautiful vows felt like they were made just yesterday.

Now, all I felt was how utterly absurd it was.