Page 26 of Beneath Her Skin

"Hey, are you lost?" I call after her as I descend the stairs. With a deep breath, I step into the fields. The smell of lavender assaults my senses as I follow the woman, only for her to disappear in the middle of nowhere.

"Where did you go?" I call out again, looking around, but there’s nothing. It’s like she vanished into thin air.

Then I hear it. A child crying. My hands instinctively cradle my stomach as the baby cries, causing my body to move into action and find the cause of the noise.

"Hello," I call out again as my pace quickens with the sound of desperation in the baby’s cries.

"Hello." But nothing. Only the sound of the baby and what seems like running water.

Using my hands, I push away the tall lavender flowers as I move toward a clearing—an area where they all seem to have died.

"Hello," I call out, but the cries get closer. Cradling my stomach, I continue my speed-waddle toward the sound of the child who needs me. Is that why the woman drew me out here? Is she abandoning her baby? The thought alone makes my heart sink as I draw closer to the sound. A bundle of dirty blue baby blankets lies so close to the river’s edge. Looking toward my side, I continue to go to the source of the sound. This part of the field is darker and colder. The stream of water is wild with ripples. And there is this little baby crying, trying to understand what it did to deserve this. Tears cloud my vision as I think of the nonexistent connection between my unborn child and me.

Cradling my stomach, I hurry toward the edge, careful not to slip into the water. The mud sinks beneath my feet, making me realize how unstable this swampy area is.

"Fuck."

Reaching out to cradle the crying infant, I feel something snap underneath my foot. Instinctively, I grab onto the blanket—it's empty. My heart sinks, eyes widen as the mud collapses underneath me, making me fall into the cold water. My body sinks downward, a branch and more of the muddy land collapsing as I try to get my head above the water. The blanket wraps around my face, an unnatural force keeping me in place. Holding me there.

My arms thrash around.

My baby. My baby.

The voice in my thoughts turns into something unnatural, something not mine.

My baby.

I choke on more water, causing it to burn my lungs.

My baby.

I claw at my face, trying to remove the blanket as my body fights to keep in the air, but it’s no use. Water filters through my nose and mouth, invading my throat. My legs kick, trying to bring us out of the water, but it’s like something is holding me in place. The world goes silent. A sense of peace stills me, and then—it’s not me in my head.

"My baby. My baby."The woman screams as the water overpowers her. She fights, but there is blood. So much blood, turning the murky water even darker. And just as my limbs relax and the blanket slips away, strong arms pull me toward the light. It’s so bright.

My lungs struggle to expand as I hold on to the small little light.

"Stay with me," the voice calls out.

My body rocks, and water rolls up my throat. My constricted lungs expand, and once again, I begin to choke on water before my body shifts again. The water spills from my mouth and nose.

"Shh, you're safe now," the deep voice tells me, but it’s not my husband.My eyes flutter open and clash with blue. "So cold," I whisper before my eyes give in.

4

THE WALLS HAVE EYES

"Is there anything we can do to manage her state of mind? It's not normal," my husband whispers out the words. "This is not normal. She almost drowned. The ground worker thankfully heard her screaming, 'my baby…'"

I force myself to go back to sleep, to stop listening to my husband grow sick of me. Will he take my baby?

"The baby is what matters," he says, his voice cold and final. Surprising me, the shock of his words causes me to wrap my arms around my stomach as the life inside me moves.

"I know," he whispers before the water turns on. Only then do I open my eyes. My gaze zeros in on a small piece of wallpaper not glued on properly. The white Damask design sticks out, showing more wallpaper underneath—stained, weathered from time.

I try to close my eyes, but all I hear is his words.

Is he growing tired of me? Will he take our baby and leave me?

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