Page 43 of Retribution


Font Size:

“You better hope it’s a girl, Rebecca. If it’s a boy, he’ll be joining the others.”

“What others?” I ask, my voice trembling.

Momma snorts. “It’s none of your business. Get up, girl. Your new sisters are arriving tomorrow, and I want you to go clean their bedrooms.”

“Yes, Momma.” I gingerly pull myself to my feet, getting the cleaning materials from the laundry room. When I come back in, she slaps door signs into my hands, and I make my way upstairs to prepare their rooms. Glancing at the tags, I read the names of the new girls.

Rosalie, Ruth, Reese.

I stopped believing in God two years ago. But I still send up a prayer for my new sisters.

Please save them.

***

Seven Months Later

“That’s right, push!” Doctor Erin Ortega encourages. A howl rips out of me as the baby’s head emerges. Two nurses are attending, one standing behind the doctor, another at my head, wiping the trails of sweat away with a cool cloth.

Hands touch me, pulling the baby from my body. Momma sits in a chair in the corner, watching everything with a scowl on her face. A small cry, followed by a snipping noise, and the baby is laid on my chest. Momma stands, leans over, and lifts the baby’s leg. Her eyes grow cruel, an evil smirk stretching across her face. Lifting the baby by the legs, she dangles him over me as the doctor works between my legs.

“No!” I cry out, trying to remove my legs from the stirrups. “Give me my baby!” My arms are outstretched towards him, my screams mixing with his as she shoves him into one of the nurse’s arms. She leaves the room with hurried steps, his cries echoing back to me. “Where is she taking him?”

“Don’t worry your useless little head over shit you should have swallowed,” she says with a sneer, my heart breaking at the cold, cruel cackling that spills from her mouth like a stream of poison.

The familiar shadows start swirling, cutting off my wails as I start to withdraw into myself. Anything to escape the pain. I barely hear the doctor telling me to push again, that the second baby is coming.

Pain tears through me, my agonized shrieks nearly drowning out the discussion Momma is having with the doctor.

“A hysterectomy is a major surgery with a long recovery time,” Doctor Ortega argues.

“I don’t care, get it done!” Momma orders, her finger in the doctor’s chest.

A clear object comes down over my face, and I try to fight it, but after a moment, everything goes black.

***

Trey

Present

My heart shatters alongside hers as Rebecca sobs into my chest, her tears soaking my shirt. I don’t cry, ever. Not since I was a child. But sitting on the floor, holding the woman I love as she falls apart, I let them fall. Opening myself up to her pain and grief.

Those fuckers were evil. Maybe I’m not one to talk, it’s not like I’m some Prince Charming. How could they leave her wondering for years what happened to the baby? Could they not at least have given her the smallest shred of peace, instead of letting her go all these years not knowing if he was alive or dead?

Placing a kiss on Rebecca’s head, I just hold her tightly, staying silent. I know there’s more to the story, but I don’t think she can handle any more right now. It’s too much, and she’s too raw.

She will, though. I want all of her; the good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful. I don’t just want her; I want her soul. It’s maybe too soon for her, and that’s okay. As long as she stays by my side until she’s ready to admit what I’ve already told her: she’s mine. Always.

After a late meal of Chinese takeout, I tuck Rebecca into bed. She’s been quiet since her revelations, her eyes far away, reliving the past. Muting the TV, I put the closed captions on, mindlessly scrolling until she finally succumbs to sleep, the shivers wracking her body calming.

Hours later and I come awake, something alerting me. Reaching out, Rebecca’s side of the bed is empty and cold, and my heart skips in panic. I calm when I see the faint glow of the bathroom light beneath the door, and as I walk over to it, I can hear a faint humming noise. Cracking open the door, I see Rebecca huddled on the floor, my jeans wrapped up in a bundle in her arms.

She’s humming a lullaby, that one about buying diamond rings and mockingbirds. Her hair covers her face, but she looks up as I slowly come in, sitting down across from her.

She’s sleeping. I can sense that right away. Her eyes are glazed over, unseeing. She smiles slightly, rocking back and forth, humming that same song over and over.

Placing my hand on her arm, she stills, pressing the bundle closer to her chest.