The Little Moon
Language: en
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.” Soon, everyone in the city knew:…