Rough hands grabbed me, and yanked my frail arms behind my back, then locked my wrists with metal cuffs. I barely registered them reading me my rights. I barely registered the cold ground as my face was pressed into the dirt. I barely registered anything at all.

Because the last thing I remembered before my world faded to black was the blood pooling beneath me. The proof of the life I’d lost.

I woke up in a jail cell with mind-numbing fluorescent lights buzzing and flickering overhead. The cement floor beneath my bare feet was hard and unforgiving. My whole body felt like it had been wrung out. My limbs were weak. My skin was clammy. And my insides hollow.

I barely had the strength to lift my head, but the pain I felt clawed at me from the inside out. I screamed in pain, but the guards ignored me.

The officers walked past me like I was invisible. Like I deserved to be there.

Every muscle in my body trembled and teetered on the edge of what felt like death. I was septic. My body was shutting down. My baby was gone, and I wanted to go with it.

Cory had tried to kill me because I told him I was leaving, taking our unborn child, and never looking back. So, in return, he took the one thing that gave me the strength to leave. He stole the last piece of hope I had. And as I lay there in that cell, I was ready to stop fighting. I didn’t want to breathe anymore. I didn’t want to exist in a world where my baby never would.

But then I heard them. Footsteps. Urgent voices. A commotion outside the bars.

I hear my Dad’s voice, but I barely turn my head and barely open my eyes.

The bars rattled, keys jangled, and my eyelids fluttered as the edges of my vision dimmed.

Then, gentle hands cradled my face, smoothing back my hair and gripping my hands.

My parents, Serena, Kiera, and Izzy—they were all there.

And for the first time in years, I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t trapped. I wasn’t screaming into the void with no one to hear me.

I was found.

I open my eyes and take a deep breath to meet Gabe and Izzy’s eyes as they hover over their keyboard.

With no hesitation or second-guessing, I nod, and with a single click, they hit publish.

My truth isn’t buried anymore. My pain is no longer caged. It’s out there for the entire world to hear, to listen, to feel. And maybe, just maybe, it’ll set someone else free, too.

Chapter 30

Family Vacation – Kerry

Two Months Later