A female nurse appeared at my side, taking my hand. A mask covered her face, a surgical cap on her head. Her only available feature was dark blue eyes.

Jack was a silent blur in the corner.

The doctor shoved his hands inside of me. The pain was crushing. I recoiled. “No,” I screamed. “Get off of me.”

“I need you to cooperate, Grace. Stay still and push.” The doctor motioned to the male nurses, who grabbed me and held me in place. Struggling and thrashing, I tried to break free from their clutches.

“Jack,” I cried. “Get them off. Help.”

Jack just stood there.

I grabbed for the silver tray, knocking it. Metal clanking. The tools hit the floor.

“Push, Grace. Push.”

Sweat poured from my forehead, running into my eyes, mixing with tears. My vision blurred—all I could see was a bright light and outlines of people. My body trembling and contracting. I squeezed the female nurse’s hand, wailing.

“One more big push.”

I howled. “Jaaaaaackkkkkkkkkkk.”

The pressure released and I collapsed with exhaustion. The room was quiet; everyone stayed in place. I turned my head and my gaze met the female nurse’s, her blue eyes moist. I heard the door close, and Jack was gone.

The doctor approached, removing his mask. “I’m so sorry, Grace.”

Weakly, I propped myself upright, catching sight of my still baby across the room, swaddled in a blue blanket. I disintegrated. My mouth opened wide, but no noise came out.

The female nurse leaned forward and wiped my forehead with a cloth. “There’s nothing we could have done.”

The doctor placed my dead son on my bare chest. I eased back the swaddling and wedged my finger inside his tiny clenched fist. He was perfect. White-blond hair, pink skin, little smushed nose, closed eyes. I kissed his head and lingered, inhaling deeply. He didn’t smell the way newborns do. He didn’t smell like anything.

My inhalations became sharp and sporadic. Something was beeping as my neck muscles gave out and my head lolled. Three shadowy, masculine shapes stood at the edge of my bed, reaching in, melding into a singular figure, its face slowly coming into focus. “Who let them in?” I whispered.

“Who?” the nurse asked, looking around the room.

“Them. Get them out of here.” I pointed, shaking. “Leave me alone.” I clutched my son in my arms as they tried to take him from me. They pulled until they’d snatched him, and his tiny hand, still wrapped around my finger, let go.

Chapter 62

I’d never been much of a sleeper. My mother told me even as a newborn I never slept. I didn’t spend my time awake unhappy or tearful, I was simply too curious. Mesmerized, unable to stop watching the world, I stared up at it with dark indigo eyes. As I was not yet able to control the muscles in my neck, my mother would place me on the sofa, propped up against a pillow, while she vacuumed the swirly grey carpet. I would trace her movements using only my eyes.