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I don’t realize I’ve fallen asleep till I shoot up, drenched in sweat and with my heart hammering against my chest. I rub my eyes and lick my dry lips. On the table next to me, there is a large glass of water. I down it all in one gulp and sink back against the mattress, my heart still pounding uneasily. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a flash of movement, and I realize Carter is propped up on a chair across from me.
He has fingers linked together and is looking directly at me. But he doesn’t say anything.
I flip onto my other side and ignore him.
A few hours later, Carter crouches in front of me, a tray of food in his hands. I look from the food to his face and back away again. He holds up the spoon to my mouth, but the smell of broth sends a wave of nausea through me. I push past him, stumble into the connecting bathroom, and sink onto the tile floors. I’m bent over the toilet, dry heaving, when I hear Carter come in.
When my stomach stops recoiling, I push myself up to my feet and use the back of my hands to wipe my mouth. Then, I flush the toilet and prop myself against the sink. Cupping both hands together, I splash cold water on my face and shiver. After patting my face dry, I glance back up, and Carter is still in the doorway, having changed out of his wrinkled and dirty clothing into a fresh pair of clothes.
I don’t say anything as I walk past him and climb back into bed.
As soon as I draw the covers up to my chin, Carter walks over to me and reaches for the tray. “You have to eat something.”
I shake my head and stare at an unmarked spot on the wall.
Outside, the world is changing colors, from pink and purple to dark grey. In the background, I can make out the sound of shoes squeaking against the floor and the rise and fall of murmured conversation. Then, there’s a loud cacophony of voices as a monitor beeps in the distance. Through the glass window, I spot a group of medical personnel racing in the opposite direction, white lab coats flapping behind them.
It feels like I’m watching all of it happen from a distance. Like I never made it out of the car crash, to begin with.
Carter climbs onto the bed and holds the bowl up to my face. “I know you’re angry with me. I know I fucked up, but you can’t punish yourself for this, dove. This is my fault, not yours.”
My gaze flicks over to Carter, and I don’t say anything.
He shifts closer, his expression turning hopeful. “For the baby’s sake, please. You need to keep up your strength.”
I open my mouth and allow him to feed me a few mouthfuls of soup.
By the fifth spoonful, I’m feeling sick again. Abruptly, I push Carter away and throw myself back against the mattress. Although my eyelids feel heavy, I’m reluctant to shut them because I don’t want to face what’s waiting for me. Rich’s face is already hovering in my field of vision, smiling cruelly at me.
Against my better judgment, I drift off and wake up drenched in my own sweat.
Carter is standing outside my room, a phone pressed to his ear. His free hand runs through his hair, and he keeps pacing. I swallow past the lump in my throat and pick up the glass of water next to me. I down it all and lean back again, feeling weaker than before. Then I drape a hand over my stomach and glance down, my chest tightening.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t do better,” I whisper in a cracked voice. “I should’ve done better.”
When I fall asleep again, I’m in a large field, with blades of grass everywhere I look. I have a baby in my arms, a pink bundle sleeping soundly. With a smile, I bring him up to my face for a kiss, and he coos. I lower my head to kiss him, and his face transforms, changing to that of Rich. He pulls back his lips to reveal a row of white teeth stained with blood.
“What’s the matter, Isabella?” Rich says in a taunting voice. “Something on your conscience?”
The baby in my arms squirms as he begins to bleed, little droplets at first that stain the ground beneath our feet. Suddenly, it grows stronger and stronger until most of my clothes are covered in blood, the overpowering stench making my stomach recoil. Then the baby grows too heavy, and I drop him with a yelp. I scramble to my hands and knees and crawl to the baby, but he disappears. Once I stand up, I see Carter on the edge of the field, holding the bundle in his arms.
I race to them, my hair whipping behind me. “Wait, I want to see my baby.”
Carter shifts, his grip on the baby tightening. “Why would I want you anywhere near our son? You’re going to turn him into a murderer, just like you.”
I wince and skid to a halt on the edge of the field, within arm’s reach. “That’s not true. I didn’t mean to. I was trying to protect myself and the baby. Rich would’ve hurt us.”
Carter lets out a low, humorless laugh. “Is that what you tell yourself? Is that how you justify killing someone like that? I’ve killed a lot of people, Bella, but even I have better excuses than that.”
“But I—”
Carter’s expression darkens, and he holds the baby behind his back. “You’re not fit to be his mother. You’re not a dove anymore. You’ve got blood on your hands now. You’re no better than the other women I was with.”
I start crying, the tears flowing freely down my face as my shoulders shake. “Carter, please. Don’t do this. Don’t keep my baby away from me.”
Carter points a finger at me and smiles, the kind of smile that sends a shiver racing up my spine. “You did this to yourself. You’re a fucking murderer, and you have no one to blame but yourself.”
I blink and find myself staring at an unfamiliar ceiling and listening to the monitor next to me go crazy. Slowly, I bring my free hand up to my face and shove my hair out of my eyes. The room is mostly dark except for a small light to my right. I turn to it and find Carter propped up on the chair, his head tilted to one side, and his eyes squeezed shut.
