My Baby

Chloe POV

Based on the two meals I was fed a day, and my medication schedule, I’d been locked in the dark padded cell for 6 days. I didn’t entirely mind it, though.

Although the silence and solitude were certainly enough to drive me insane, this cell is the safest place for me. I cradle my stomach and spend my time fantasising about my baby.

I’d always dreamed of my child having a happy, safe home. Now I’d settle for freedom. I want to be allowed to hold my child; kiss my child; give my child a name. I hug my stomach and lightly speak to it as if the thing inside could respond.

On the 7^th day, shortly after breakfast, the blinding lights turned on. I squint, covering my eyes with my arm as I try to see the blurry figures walking towards me. My eyes haven’t adapted back to the light well enough for me to make out their faces.

They pick me up by the arms and nearly carry me out of the cell.

“No, no – please. Put me back, I don’t need the sun, please put me back!” I thrash in their grip. What if I get stabbed again? What if someone puts something in my food again? Or what if I’m beaten again? Tripped? Pulled? Pinned to the ground and molested—anything could happen that would hurt my baby.

“Stop resisting,” I know the voice, even though I still can’t fully form faces. Things are clearer now that we’re in the slightly dimmer hall. My doctor, and Dr. Golfe stand beside a tall man, my husband.

“Tom,” I pant and reach out to him. It takes me a moment to remember why I’m here. To remember my baby isn’t safe with him.

He takes one of my hands while they’re still extended and I quickly pull away and curl closer into whatever nurse is holding me.

“No – no – no – no, don’t touch my baby. It’s my baby.” I beg quietly.

“Come on, Chloe.” I know that voice, too. My eyes adjust well enough for me to see April approaching me. A wide smile on her face. Her hair, makeup, and clothes are all styled perfectly. April takes me by the forearm and smiles brightly, “I’m willing to forget the past if you are. Are you ready to come home?”

I look past her to Tom, “what does this mean?” I ask.

“I’m taking you out of here.” Tom answers in a stern voice.

“Fo…. For how long?” My hands are trembling.

“At least until the baby is born.” Tom says, “I hope… you can still be civil after.”

“Civil?” I glance at all the faces around me. There isn’t one that I trust.

“We’re going to send a nurse with you. Would you like to choose which one you’d like?” Dr. Golfe asks.

One of the nurse's hands, still holding me in place, tightens. I turn back to see one of the male nurses. I see his face and scream. My body is pulling away from him.

“Chloe!” Tom rushes forward to catch me. His hands steady me. Once he has me, he looks back at the nurse and demands, “what the hell did you do to her?”

“Nothing!” The nurse lies, his hands up as he looks around the corridor, “she must’ve forgotten I was there. She does that sometimes.”

The other nurses nod, but Tom only looks at me, “is that true?”

2 weeks ago, I would’ve dreamed of this moment. The moment I could tell Tom what was happening, and he could save and avenge me. I don't need to fight my own battles. I can be saved. Please save me.

But now the moment is different. Because I’m not concerned about my own safety. Not at all.

What if I tell Tom and he thinks I’m lying? He’ll believe me if I say they touched me, I’m certain, but if I tell them that’s all they did, will he believe me? Or will he believe one of them fathered our child? Will he kill our baby in a blind rage? I can’t risk it.

I look up to meet Tom’s eyes and breathe, “please take me home.”

He puts his hands on my shoulder and tightens his hold, “Chloe, did he hurt you?”

“I want to go home.”

“Answer my question!” His voice is louder, booming.

Tears fill my eyes as I desperately plead, “Please take me home. I want to go home.”

Tom surrenders, but is not happy about it. He takes my hand and pulls me back to April. He tosses me forward a bit and snaps at April, “help her get changed. Meet me out front in ten minutes. Dr. Golfe, come with me.”

With that, Tom turns and walks away. The doctors follow, followed shortly by the nurses who shoot me dirty looks before going.

April pulls me into a room and tosses a bag of clothes at me. I expect her pleasant façade to shift but it doesn’t. She’s seemingly happy to be helping me change.

She notices my skepticism and laughs, “what are you so worried about, Chloe? I’m happy you’re leaving.”

“You had him put me here.” I don’t want her to think I forgot.

“I also convinced him to get you out.”

“Why?”

“You’re pregnant, of course!” She cheers as she slides a poorly fitting shirt onto my arms.

“You care about my baby?”

“Well,” She sighs lightly while she buttons up my blouse, “not your baby. My baby.”