“Thank you,” I whisper softly, taking a seat at the spot the guard motions towards, my pulse hammering. My stomach clenches, turning and turning until I’m unsure if I can keep myself from vomiting. A lump forms in my throat as I hear footsteps approaching and the familiar buzz of a door opening. My heart quickens within my chest, as if trying to escape the safety of my ribs.
One breath. Two breaths and my exhale… There she is.
At first, I only see the top of her head, dark hair braided perfectly, before her full face came into view. She looks older now, her eyes hollow and full of sadness, but her face is also fuller. The guard rounds the corner, and my eyes zero in on her, roaming over her. Inspecting the orange jumpsuit that fits a little too large, the cuffs that bind her wrists, before landing on her stomach. A loud gasp escapes my mouth as I take in the small swell that’s there. Visible beneath the orange fabric.
No.
I shake my head.No. NO.
Blood rushes like roaring waters through my ears. I swallow hard and fast. Still, my mouth goes dry. Pressure builds behind my eyes. My heart. It all hurts. Quickly, I blink away the tears already forming. I won’t let her see me down. She wouldn’t see me cry. I won’t break even as this reveal kills me. Yet, here is the proof that it was real. Proof she’s carrying a life that should have been mine. Proof that the universe stole from me only to hand it to her. Why me? Why give me a life only to take it away?WHY? WHY? WHY?
The question fades into my mind as the room grows colder, and then the air leaves my lungs when she sits in front of me. Confusion marks her features when she grabs the phone with a shaky hand. I follow suit.
“Hello, Veronica,” she says softly, as if we are old friends sharing a coffee instead of trauma. The sound of her voice is too gentle, careful, and human in a way I can’t stand. I fucking hate her.
I swallow hard. “You’re pregnant?” My words come out croaky, pained, and definitely not sounding like a question. She exhales the word, “Yes.”
My vision blurs once again, and something inside of me fractures even deeper. The cracks pulling into the abyss—it’s not jealousy, not exactly. It’s something I can’t even comprehend. Something so fucked up, I can’t even fathom. “Why?”
Priscilla's brows pull together, her head tilts to the side. “Why what?”
“Why keep it?” I whisper. “Why have a baby? Why?”
“Like you, I was also a victim. I didn’t choose what Harry did, but I also did not stop it. And eventually, I participated to get my happiness.” Her eyes shine with sorrow. “What I chose is to protect this baby.”
Like an onion, everything peels away. Like me?LIKE ME? A scoff escapes my lips as I shake my head. My throat burns, and my heart shatters. “Give it back.”
Her forehead creases deeper, “Come again.”
“Give it back,” I repeat, quieter this time, before everything comes tumbling down. “Give it back. My safety. My life. My voice. My sense of self.MY BABY.” My voice breaks as I shoot to my feet. “Give me back everything that fucking basement took from me. GIVE IT BACK!”
My fingers curl around the phone, my other hand presses against the glass as if I could touch her. Rip from her everything she took from me. Everything she took and will take from Iz. Priscilla mirrors me perfectly. We are two broken women on the opposite side of a transparent wall. Separated by a crime neither of us can undo.
“I can’t give you what was taken,” Priscilla whispers, her voice breaking slightly. “But this baby… I can make sure he grows up safe.Loved. Not broken. That’s all I ever wanted, a baby, something to love. I didn’t want to hurt you or anyone. I just want—”
“FUCK YOU!” I spit. “FUCK WHAT YOUWANTED.”
She flinches, shame and maybe pity contorting her face as I continue. “You wanted him, and this is how you keep him. You’re sick.”
Priscilla shakes her head. “No,” she whispers. “I only wanted a child.A family. I needed something to love before Harry hollowed me out completely.”
My breath stutters, and without thinking, I slam my hand against the glass hard enough to rattle the bolts. In an instant, guards move towards us. “Give it back,” I whisper, slamming my hand over and over. “GIVE IT BACK!”
All she does is stare back at me with pity that devastates. “YOU DON’T GET TO DO THIS! GIVE IT BACK!” I shout harder, my hand slamming painfully against the glass, rattling her.
“Ma’am, step back!” a guard instructs, but I’m too far gone to stop myself from wanting to tear her apart.
“GIVE IT BACK!” I shout, before I’m being yanked away from where I stand, my arm caught in the guard's arm. Priscilla looks at me, tears streaming down her face. My feet drag across the floor as they escort me out, my eyes never leaving her until I can no longer see her. The guards begin to talk to me, but I can’t hear them. All I keep thinking about is the swell of my stomach. Within minutes, my life shatters again, all while I’m processed and barred from seeing her before being let out of the building. Once outside, Alexa runs to me just as the guard steps away from me and releases my arm. By the look on my best friend’s face, she must see the shock written on mine. “Hey, what happened?”
I don’t respond. I just let the tears fall as my body shakes from the anger… from the grief. “It’s okay, Ronnie. I got you.” She takes my face into her warm and soft hands. “Ronnie breathe, breath–”
I can’t.
My world just keeps shifting and moving… I can’t stop it. Everything narrows to the sight of her pregnant belly and the glass I couldn’t break. Like the shackles that bind me back to that horrible place. “I need to leave,” I choke out, clawing at my chest because it hurts. “Take me home,” I sob. “Home. Not my mom's. Not toIz...Please. Please.” My nails dig into my flesh, the sting a welcome reprieve. “I can’t—”
Alexa nods, blinking away her own tears as she softly murmurs. “Okay, I can do that.”
The drive back to the place I shared with Max is quiet and overbearing. I cried all the way back there, and even in the comfort of everything thatused to be mine, I cried even more. We sit on the floor of my living room, and everything is so empty. A reflection of me, hollow and haunting. I sob into my best friend's arms as she holds me through it all without asking any questions, even though she’s concerned. That much I can tell in her soft gaze. My body shakes violently against her. “It’s okay,” she whispers. “Let it out. You survived worse. I don’t know what happened, but don’t let them win.”
