Chapter 4 It's Real

I curled up within the field of glass. My bag had fallen out of my hand the moment I lost balance. The pregnancy report that sat between the pages of my passport slid out and fluttered down to Zachary. I had just gotten that report earlier in the morning.

I was going to surprise him during our anniversary dinner. I was going to prove that I wasn't barren and that I was carrying his child.

Zachary moved his eyes from the blood to that paper, and he picked it up. The moment the results registered in his head, a hint of panic swam in his eyes, and his fingers clenched around the paper, creasing it.

Wendy was standing right by his side. The results twisted her face with jealousy. She quickly clutched her belly and screamed. "Zack, my stomach! She must've gotten to me!"

Zachary's panic was replaced by a look of venom. He tore the report apart and hurled the pieces into my face. "You'd fake a report just to get my attention."

The paper's edge cut my face and left a red mark. He pointed at the blood on the ground and spoke icily. "Even if it were true, a child of a witch like you is nothing but a disaster. Its death will bode well for Wendy's baby."

He spun around and scooped Wendy up. Then, he strode right up to the van. Before he went in, he turned around and gave me one last look. "You'll learn a painful lesson today." He turned his eyes to the bodyguards, who were standing outside the entrance.

"Pull the shutter down and lock it up. No one is to call an ambulance for her. She'll reflect upon herself!"

A bodyguard picked my phone up from the ground and tossed it into the bin, then the shutter roared as the machine slowly pulled it down.

As the last sliver of light died out, the last thing I saw was Zachary getting into the car with Wendy in his arms, and then the car left.

The shutter hit the ground with a final crash, and the lock closed. My shop was plunged into darkness, save for the small slivers of light peeking in through the slit between the ground and the shutter.

I was abandoned, lying in the torn pieces of my work and glass. Blood was pooling more and more underneath my body. The cold was robbing my body of its warmth, and breathing itself was an agonizing labor.

I clenched my teeth and slashed my left arm with a sharp piece of glass. The stabbing pain shot a dose of clarity into my head. I dragged my body across the ground, crawling on all fours. I left a crimson trail behind me as I forged on, unheeding of the pain.

My mind was completely focused on one task and one task only. I had to get my hand on the old telephone sitting in the corner of the counter.

With bloodstained hands, I called 911, and the operator's voice hit my ears.

The world around me was starting to turn into a blur, while everything my vision was tinged with a bloody shade of red.

I was losing my grip on the telephone, but Sam's shrill, cracked voice screamed from outside.

There was genuine fear lacing his scream. "Zack, get back right now! It's not a fake report! The hospital just called! She's Rh-negative! If you lock her in there, you'll kill her and the baby!"

The roaring engine of the van died immediately. Soon after, a harrowing roar echoed in the air outside. The bangs on the shutter that followed nearly drowned me out, deafening my ears.