Chapter 3

When I pushed open the door, the entryway light was on.

From the yard to the door was only twenty steps. It took me ten minutes.

With every step, the blood between my legs increased.

As I crouched down to reach for the spare key, my vision went dark.

A pair of red-soled high heels appeared on the ground, pointed toward the door.

In the living room, Natalie was wearing my pajamas, sitting cross-legged next to Ethan.

On the coffee table sat half a glass of red wine and a pregnancy test broken in two.

The two lines were still clearly visible.

The cake I'd made was half-eaten, the fork still stuck in it.

The candles were broken, thrown in the ashtray.

The family photo on the cabinet was face down, the frame turned over.

Natalie saw me come in and laughed behind her hand: "Claire's back? I thought you'd left. Ethan said you're really good at running away."

I ignored her, my gaze fixed on the broken pregnancy test.

I'd hidden that in a secret compartment in the closet.

Natalie followed my line of sight and tilted her head: "Oh that? I accidentally broke it when I was changing clothes."

She turned to Ethan, eyes wide: "Ethan, Claire's not really pregnant, is she?"

Ethan leaned back on the sofa, not looking at me.

Frosting from the cake was smeared at the corner of his mouth.

"I told you not to touch her things." His tone didn't sound protective, more annoyed.

"It doesn't matter if she is." Natalie smiled and rubbed her flat stomach.

"The only children in this house will be mine and Ethan's anyway."

She stood up and walked toward me, stopping half a step away, looking down at my legs.

The dark stain spreading across my pants had been scattered by the rain, but the traces were clear.

"Claire, you're bleeding." Her voice was soft.

I bent over and retched violently.

Nothing came out except acid and bitterness -- the taste of prenatal medicine.

Natalie stepped back, her face wrinkled with disgust.

There was a sound from the sofa. Ethan stood up and took half a step toward me.

Then stopped.

Natalie grabbed his arm: "Ethan, she's so filthy."

Ethan looked down at me, his lips moved, but no sound came out.

I knelt on the floor and wiped my mouth.

As I stood up, he spoke.

"You think we're disgusting?" His voice was cold. "Then tonight you can listen carefully to who's really disgusting."

He pulled Natalie toward the stairs.

As they passed, Natalie stepped on the broken pregnancy test.

As she went upstairs, she laughed: "Ethan, let's sleep in her bed tonight, okay?"

Ethan didn't refuse.

The master bedroom door closed.

I knelt in the living room, vomit in front of me, rain and blood on my body, the pregnancy test crushed to pieces before me.

The first laugh came from upstairs.

Then footsteps.

Ethan came back downstairs and grabbed me by the collar, hauling me up.

"Since you like kneeling so much, come kneel and listen upstairs."