I have never felt fear like I feel right now. It’s not fear for myself. It’s fear for my unborn son.
They have kept me strapped here, on this bed, for days, weeks, months. I have no idea. There are no windows in this place. I have no idea what time of day it is, if a day has passed, or if the time is moving more slowly than I realize.
Troy’s chief laboratory technician comes in several times a day to draw fluids. I don’t care what they take from me, but the first time they stuck the needle into my stomach, I began thrashing, my fire burning off the paralytic.
Troy was quick to inject me with whatever knocks me out, and when I wake, I see the bruises on my stomach. I have no idea what they did, but my son hasn’t been moving in my stomach. I’m terrified that he’s dead.
When the chief te
