Chapter 3 - WHAT NATHAN FINALLY DID
The baby moved hard beneath my ribs while Michael tried to pry open my fist.
I protected my stomach with my free arm and curled sideways.
“Give it to me,” he said.
Nathan remained in the doorway.
I looked directly at him.
Not at Michael.
Not at Ashley.
At the only adult in the room who had not placed his hands on me.
“Please.”
One word.
Nathan’s face collapsed.
He took out his phone.
Michael stood so quickly that the couch shifted beneath me.
“Put that away.”
Nathan backed into the hallway and called 911.
Ashley shut off the machine. “Tell them she agreed and panicked.”
Michael pointed toward the consent form. “She invited Ashley here.”
“I did not.”
“You wanted a family tattoo.”
“No.”
“You said you wanted to belong.”
Nathan spoke into the phone with a shaking voice. “She’s pregnant. They were holding her down. She needs an ambulance.”
Michael lunged toward him.
I pushed myself off the couch and reached for the shirt hanging above my stomach. My legs shook when I stood, but I placed myself between Michael and the hallway.
He looked at me with a kind of astonishment, as though I had violated the order of the room by standing without permission.
“You’re destroying us over a joke.”
Ashley began wiping the coffee table.
She gathered used materials, caps, and paper towels with the efficient movements of someone who understood evidence better than remorse. But she could not clean my wrists, Michael’s scratches, or the torn glove fragment inside my palm.
Sirens approached from the main road.
Nathan unlocked the front door.
Michael leaned close to me one last time.
“You tell them Ashley stopped when you asked.”
“She never should have started.”
His jaw tightened.
“You’ll lose everything.”
May you like
I looked toward the maternity savings form beneath the tattoo kit.
“You already took it.”
