The Little Moon

Summary

The day Terry dragged me into the operating room, I clutched my prenatal scan and wept.

“Please, spare our baby. She’s innocent.”

He sneered, gripping my chin, “You, a murderer, dare to bear my child?”

Later, he locked me in the basement for three years.

I forgot how to speak, but I remembered humming a tuneless song to the iron bars every night.

Until he knelt at the door, eyes bloodshot, clutching the truth in trembling hands:

“Autumn…”

I tilted my head, licking my grimy fingers, giggling softly:

“The butterfly flew away, and so did the baby, you know.”