He must be so angry. I ran away from him. I took his baby from him. I tried to kill myself even if I did change my mind. I knew what could happen when I took all that aspirin. It wasn’t a conscious choice, though. I was desperate. But desperate for what?

For his attention.

For him.

And now we’re farther apart than ever.

My throat feels tight as I turn on the water and wash my hands and face. I run cool water over my burning wrists. It only makes it worse, though, so I dry my hands on my pants—the towel looks nasty—and return to the bedroom.

My stomach rumbles at the smell of the food. I haven’t eaten in so long, so I open the bag and take out the cheeseburger. I unwrap it and take a bite, then another, and before I know it, I’ve finished it. I look inside the bag for more, but it’s empty, and I get up and go back into the bathroom to drink water from the tap.

That’s when I hear commotion outside. A car door slamming. Voices in the living room.

This is it. He must be here. The doctor.

I hurry back into the bedroom just as the door opens, and the big guy walks in, followed by a thirty-something man in a suit. He looks shabby in the worn-out suit, and the bag he’s carrying is tired-looking. His dark hair is oiled back and curling behind his ears like he needs a cut, and overall, he gives me the creeps.

“You must be Ivy,” he says, his smile making my skin crawl. “Your brother said you have a little problem you’d like to be rid of. Why don’t you come lie down on the bed, and we’ll take a look-see.”

“No, my brother was wrong. I don’t want to get rid of the baby. This is a mistake. I just want to go home,” I plead, holding out my arms in appeal, almost forgetting my wrists are bound because for a moment I think I have a chance. A choice. He’s a doctor. He won’t force this. He can’t.

He smiles as the big man closes the door and moves toward me.

“Your brother told me you were confused. Now let’s get this done,” the doctor says, setting his bag down on the nightstand and noticing the empty bag of food. He picks it up, looks inside, and turns on the man. “When did she eat?”

He shrugs. “Now?”

“You idiots. That changes things.”

When he opens his bag, I make a run for it, but the big man grabs me.

I scream as he drags me toward the bed, lifting me off the floor when I struggle.

“Gentle now,” the doctor says when I’m slammed anything but gently onto the bed.