Satin Princess(20)

“But it’s not really a question of having a baby. It’s more like… I want that baby. My baby. The one I lost.” She glances at me. “Do I sound crazy?”

“Not at all,” I say gently. “You sound human. You sound like a mother who has lost a child. I can’t even imagine what you must have gone through.”

She nods. “I’m still going through it. Not sure it’ll ever end, really.”

“Of course, I didn’t mean to imply—”

“It’s okay, Jessa. I know you didn’t mean it that way.”

Her voice is soft. Melancholy. Like she’s thinking of an alternate reality. One where she was happy with her ex. Where they had a baby they could raise together. Where the bruises never came in the first place.

Looking at Freya feels a little bit like looking at a mirror. She looks the way I feel inside, trying to bat away my own alternative reality.

One that includes Anton. A shared home. A family.

“We’re both strong women,” I say, mostly for myself. “We can get through this.”

But even as I say it, another bout of dizziness has me gripping the edges of the bench so hard that they leave indentations in my skin.

“Jessa…?”

I open my mouth to speak, but white spots appear in front of my eyes instead. The garden disappears for a moment underneath a haze of chalky hallucinations like television static.

“I… I feel weird,” I say.

“Just breathe,” Freya tells me.

I can feel her hand on my back. But then she removes it suddenly.

“Freya…?”

“Don’t worry,” she says softly. “Give yourself a minute. It’ll pass.”

She’s standing in front of me now, her form blocking out most of the sparse sunlight filtering down into the garden. The grass looks like it’s purple now. The sky looks red. It feels like everything is shifting so fast I can’t keep up.

I try to breathe through the sensation, but the discomfort in my stomach grows with every inhale. There’s an eerie dread running down my spine.

“Freya, I… I think I need to see a doctor.”

She squats down in front of me and takes both my hands. Her expression is concerned, her eyes determined. “You don’t need a doctor, Jessa.”

“Ye… yes I do,” I insist. “I feel r-really bad. Something’s wrong, Freya.”

“Oh, I know, sweetheart. The drink is meant to make you feel this way.”

I retch once, twice, again and again. “I—I thought it was supposed to make me feel better?”

She shrugs. “I had to say something to get you to drink it, didn’t I?”

I blink away the white spots and focus on her face. Is my mind twisting reality or did Freya just say that to me?

My vision floats erratically for a moment before it settles on Freya’s face. Her murky blue-brown eyes are brighter than I’ve ever seen them.

And the look of concern on her face flows seamlessly into a cruel smile.

My hands are still clasped in hers. It’s only when I try to remove them that I realize she’s the one gripping me.

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t expect you to figure it out right away,” she says. “But I’m sure you’ll get it all eventually.”

“Chris was… right about you…”

“Did he call to warn you about me?” she asks. “Well, he definitely isn’t as gullible as you are, that’s for sure. Too bad you don’t listen to him.”

A knot of pain twists in my stomach and I cringe. “Please,” I whisper. “I need a doctor.”

“A doctor would only save your baby,” she replies in the same gentle tone she’s been using all this time. “And that’s not what I want.”

I have so many questions that I can’t get them all out at once. Instead, I sob while Freya squeezes my hands painfully.

“It’ll hurt for the next few hours,” she tells me. “Miscarrying is never easy.”

“Wh—why…?” is all I can squeeze out.

“Why should you get the life I wanted?” she hisses. “Why should you have the baby that was meant for me? It’s not fair. So I’m changing the narrative.”

I shake my head. “You’re not making any sense…”

“That’s because you still don’t understand, you stupid bitch.”

Her tone never changes. It’s still soft and melodic. Still comforting and gentle. There’s a disconnect between her tone and the words coming out of her mouth.

Her head twists to the side and for the first time, I realize just how blind I’ve been. Just how gullible.

“You’re wearing contacts,” I breathe as a shiver rocks through my spine.

“God, yes, and they’re so uncomfortable. Very annoying.” She releases my hands and touches her eye. Carefully, she plucks out one and then the other. “I’m glad I can be rid of them now.”

When she looks up at me again, the murky brown of her eye color is gone. Now, there’s only a bright, uninterrupted blue.

“Oh God…”

Seeing those eyes sends a wave of déjà vu coursing through my extremities. I’ve seen those eyes before. Fierce, vengeful, full of pent-up rage.