A sharp pain seized my lower abdomen, sudden and wrong. My breath caught. My hand flew to my stomach.
“David… something’s wrong,” I gasped. “It hurts.”
Sylvia pointed toward the kitchen door, her finger rigid as a judge’s gavel. “Go.”
I tried. I truly tried. I took two steps and the room tilted. I grabbed the counter, but my swollen feet slid slightly on the tile. Behind me, Sylvia followed, her anger rising the way it always did when she felt challenged.
“I said move!” she barked.
“I can’t,” I wheezed. “Please… call a doctor.”
Her face tightened, ugly with contempt. “Always sick. Always tired. Pathetic.”
Then she shoved me.
Both hands, hard, right in the chest. It wasn’t a careless push. It was the kind of force someone uses when they believe they’re allowed to hurt you.
My balance vanished. My back slammed into the sharp edge of the kitchen island.
The impact stole sound from the world. Pain exploded—first in my spine, then deeper, lower, in a place I couldn’t protect.
I hit the floor. My head struck tile. For a second, all I could do was blink at the ceiling lights swimming above me.
Then warmth spread between my legs.
I looked down and saw red pooling fast against the clean white floor.
“The baby…” The words fell out of me like a prayer that had already failed.
Sylvia stood over me, furious, not frightened. “Get up,” she snapped. “Stop acting.”
Footsteps pounded in. David, then Mark. David took one look and didn’t rush to me. He frowned like the sight annoyed him.
“What happened?” he asked, as if he were stepping into a minor inconvenience.
“She slipped,” Sylvia said instantly. “Clumsy. Look at this mess.”
Mark’s face drained of color. “That’s… a lot of blood. We should call emergency services.”
“No,” David snapped, sharp and absolute. “No ambulance. The neighbors will talk.”
I stared at him, stunned by how cleanly he chose his reputation over my life.
“David,” I choked. “Call. Please. I’m losing the baby.”
He didn’t kneel. He didn’t hold me. He grabbed my arm and yanked as if pain could be ordered away.
“Get up,” he hissed. “Clean it. Then we’ll go somewhere if you’re still bleeding.”
Another gush. The world went white at the edges.
I reached for my phone with shaking fingers, because if he wouldn’t save me, I would.
“I’m calling for help,” I sobbed.
David’s eyes went dark. He snatched the phone and hurled it across the kitchen. It smashed against the wall and shattered.