The Actor's Contract
I take one step back, bile rising in my throat.
Axel turns his face away.
Even Alejandro pales.
And Jackson… he just stares.
Silent.
Seething.
“They cut it out,” he gags and picks up a jar with shaking hands.
It is small — no longer than a hand, fingers to wrist — and it lies curled in the center of the jar like something both human and alien. The fetus floats in a cloudy amber liquid, limbs folded close to its torso, knees tucked, head bowed. Its skin is translucent, pale as wax, with blue veins just beneath the surface like threads under ice. Tiny fingers, impossibly formed, press gently against its own cheek. The face has shape — a nose, eyes, lips, the size of pencil lines — but it is st
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