After Jack calmed down, he started worrying about what his father would think, so he took his phone out and called me.
My phone rang in his pocket. He suddenly remembered that he had taken my phone.
“Forget it. Consider it a lesson to her. She should’ve known what would’ve happened to her the moment she drugged me.”
I lifted my hand and reached into Jack’s brain. Sometimes, I hoped I could see what was in his brain.
Jack only believed the things he saw.
One day, Jack came home drunk. I made some honeyed water and placed it beside the bed for him.
While he was intoxicated, he pulled me next to him and slept with me. The next morning, he accused me of drugging him. He was so sure that I was the one who did it. He did not think that I was traumatic to that sort of experience. How could I possibly drug him?
Not long after that, I got pregnant, but Jack had not been home.
Even so, I was determined to have the baby even if Jack did not welcome his existence. He was the product of love between the man I loved and me.
The baby was my only blood-related family. He was my future. However, in the end, I was too weak. I could not protect my baby.
Jack put Sandra to bed before heading to the kitchen to get her some water.
When Sandra woke up, she hugged Jack from behind. “You’re so kind to me.”
Jack turned around and tapped Sandra on the nose dotingly. “Silly. Who else should I be kind to?”
What a sweet scene. It hurt my eyes. I did not want to see them being lovey-dovey. I wanted to leave to look for my baby. However, my soul was stuck. I could only stay tethered to Jack.
I could not do anything as a soul. I could not even splash water on them.
I paced around helplessly. Finally, I angrily walked through both of them. Jack and Sandra shuddered at the same time.
I chuckled silently. I started to think that perhaps retribution did exist.
Late at night, I no longer wanted to see them cuddling. I started wandering along the house where Jack secretly got for Sanda.
The rose garden was something that I liked very much. The house made of glass was something that I had asked for.
That was the future Jack and I had once pictured for ourselves, yet he gave it to another woman.
Something pulled me to the kitchen. I looked at the remaining so-called medication that Sandra had taken. They were in the bin. My placenta was in there, too. The thing that could help my baby survive had been tossed into the bin.
Perhaps I was overwhelmed with grief and anger, the bin toppled and fell to the ground.
“Jack, something’s outside.”
They held hands and walked to the kitchen to see the trash on the ground.
Sandra stood behind Jack. “How did the bin fall like that?”
Jack walked to the pile of trash and looked at the piece of meat-colored placenta.
When he bent to pick it up, a sonorous thunder boomed.
“It’s fine. We forgot to close the window. It’s going to rain soon. Sandra, why don’t you go back to bed? I’ll deal with this.”
The placenta was thrown into the bin again.
Jack went to the living room and made a phone call. He got his subordinate to knock on my door to ask if I had repented my decisions. Jack was willing to give me another chance as long as I apologized to Sandra.
Jack waited for a long time. When the phone rang, he thought he would hear me pleading.
“Sir, I’ve knocked on the door for a long time, but she hasn’t answered.”
Jack kicked the table. “Then, just leave! Leave her alone!”
After he hung up, Jack murmured to himself about how I deserved to die. However, I did not want to die. He was the one who killed me and my child.
Then thunder boomed again.
Jack took his car keys and headed out. In less than 20 minutes, he was at my place. I followed him into the elevator.
I was nervous thinking about how I would see the dead bodies—mine and my baby’s.
Jack quickly walked toward the door and bellowed, “Whitney, you think I’ll soften if you stay silent long enough? I’ll give you ten minutes! Pack up, and I’ll take you to the hospital!”
I looked under the door to see the dried blood. I snickered.
As if.
If he had done it earlier, perhaps the baby and I would have survived.
Ten minutes passed. There was only pin-drop silence.
Jack took the key and unlocked the door. The room was pitch-black, but a strong odor of blood wafted over.
He retched. When he lowered his head, he saw our bodies.
The blood had dried and stuck to the floor. My eyes were still wide open. There was no color on my face.
I did not want to see Jack’s reaction to seeing my dead body. I focused on the baby—my son. He should have grown up healthily, but he was dead. His umbilical cord was still intact, connected to me.
“Whitney!” Jack roared angrily.
