Keep Me Admitted

VIVIAN

They kept me locked in the nursery for three days.

Derek brought my meals three times a day, staying to watch me eat like I was livestock he was fattening. Claire came once daily to mock me, to tell me how she'd rearrange my life after the divorce. Patricia monitored everything from downstairs, ensuring I stayed compliant.

Sometimes Derek would enter and sit on the chair Claire had chosen, talking to me like nothing was wrong.

"You're doing so well," he'd say, watching me eat bland chicken and vegetables. "The babies are growing perfectly. You should be proud."

"They're not yours," I'd reply every time.

"They're mine and Claire's. But you helped create them. That counts as something." He'd smile. "When this is over, you'll see we did you a favor. You'd be a terrible mother anyway."

I should have thrown my food at him and attacked his stupid face. Instead, I stayed calm.

The nursery windows were sealed shut, but even if they weren't, it was still impossible for me to escape from there. Every furniture in the room was plastic, except for a wooden white-painted dresser.

After overhearing them say I'll be declared mentally incompetent if I refused to sign adoption papers, I knew I had to make the move I'd been scared to make for three days now.

They were going to lock me away in a mental institution forever.

I stood slowly, my eight-month-pregnant belly making movement difficult. I ran my hands over my stomach, feeling the twins move.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm so, so sorry. But this is the only way. Please be strong. Please survive this."

I positioned myself carefully. If I fell exactly right, I'd hit the corner with my side, not my stomach. The pain would be real, but the babies would be safe. I hoped.

"Please protect them," I prayed to whoever was listening. "Protect my babies."

Then I let myself fall. The corner caught me just below my ribs. Blinding pain exploded through my body, I screamed.

Even with all the pain, the impact wasn't enough as no blood came.

I had just a few more seconds before they marched in to know why I was screaming. So I smashed Claire's picture frame inside a drawer and dragged one shard down the underside of my butt before hiding away the shard.

The blood had already tickled to my inner thighs, but I smeared more blood on the inside and on my private part.

Just then, the door burst open.

"HELP!" I screamed. "SOMETHING'S WRONG! MY BABIES!"

"She's bleeding!" Claire gasped.

I lay on the floor, clutching my belly. "Hospital. Please. Fast."

Derek's face went pale. Because he cared about the babies, of course, not me.

The paramedics arrived within minutes. I was loaded onto a stretcher, rushed down the stairs, out of my prison.

Derek and Claire rode in the ambulance with me. Two security guards followed in Derek's car.

At the hospital, nurses rushed me into an examination room. Derek stayed in the hallway, making calls. Claire paced outside.

Two guards stationed themselves at the door.

A doctor entered. Tall, young, with dark hair and kind eyes.

"Mrs. Morrison," he said gently, checking the monitors. "I'm Dr. Adrian Cole. Let's see how your babies are doing."

He performed an ultrasound, his expression calm and professional. The babies were fine.

Relief flooded through me.

"But I'm still bleeding…" I whispered.

“The blood is from a cut on your butt. I'm sure you know that.”

“So I have to get admitted, right?”

He glanced at my cut, then met my eyes. He knew. He knew what I'd done.

"Is there something you want to tell me," he reduced his voice, so only I could hear.

"They'll come for me. Please keep me admitted."

"They?"

I grabbed his wrist desperately. "Please. Please don't send me home. I'm in danger. They're keeping me prisoner. They switched my eggs during IVF. I'm carrying my husband's affair baby. Please, you have to believe me."

Dr. Cole stared at me for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly.

"I believe you.”

I was shocked at those words. What if he's like Patricia? What if he's secretly in cohort with them?

“I'll keep you admitted for observation. At least seventy-two hours. You can rest.”

My heart raced as he went to speak with Derek and Claire in the hallway. I watched through the small window as he explained something medical, his hands moving expressively. Derek's jaw tightened. Claire crossed her arms.

I exhaled softly.

Dr. Cole returned, closing the door behind him.

"I've told them you need to be admitted for at least seventy-two hours. Possible placental abruption, which is serious. They can't refuse without looking suspicious."

"They won't leave me alone."

"They've already posted guards outside your door. But–if you need to get out, I can help you escape.”

"Why would you do that for me? I am just a stranger."