Things have gotten worse since we last spoke.

I think there’s something wrong.

It hurts me to even think it, but something’s not right with our child.

I feel this intense pain all the time, as if someone were sliding a razor blade along my guts.

I don’t know if I can bear it anymore. I feel like taking a pair of shears and slicing myself open.

Would you come then?

Would that get your attention?

EMAIL FROM AGNES PETRELLA

Date: 08/21/2000

Time: 6:45 p.m.

From: Agnes Petrella <agnes_in_wonderland_76@[omitted].com>

To: Zoe Cross <crushedmarigolds@[omitted].com>

Subject: Re: Something’s wrong

Please help me.

I think something’s happening to our child.

It feels like a gloved hand pushing its way through my innards and reaching down between where my legs meet.

Something’s going to happen.

EMAIL FROM AGNES PETRELLA

Date: 08/21/2000

Time: 8:02 p.m.

From: Agnes Petrella <agnes_in_wonderland_76@[omitted].com>

To: Zoe Cross <crushedmarigolds@[omitted].com>

Subject: Re: Something’s wrong

I passed it. Just like you said.

It’s a damp, crumpled heap on the bathroom floor.

Looks like one of the ribbons my mother used to sew into my hair when I was a little girl – shiny and bright.

EMAIL FROM AGNES PETRELLA

Date: 08/21/2000

Time: 8:38 p.m.

From: Agnes Petrella <agnes_in_wonderland_76@[omitted].com>

To: Zoe Cross <crushedmarigolds@[omitted].com>

Subject: Re: Something’s wrong

I wish you were here.

He’s beautiful.

He has your eyes. And your smile.

I hold him in my arms and pretend he makes little cooing noises at me the way all babies do.

EMAIL FROM AGNES PETRELLA

Date: 08/21/2000

Time: 9:06 p.m.

From: Agnes Petrella <agnes_in_wonderland_76@[omitted].com>

To: Zoe Cross <crushedmarigolds@[omitted].com>

Subject: Re: Something’s wrong

I take the apple peeler from the kitchen and I crawl into the bathroom closet, gently cradling our child.

I pretend I can hear the sound of him faintly breathing.

The peeler trembles in my hand.

I close my eyes, and for a moment I wonder if I truly deserve them today.

Acknowledgments

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

If there’s one thing I pride myself in, it’s my inclination to be honest with readers.

I must confess, I was in such a peculiar headspace while writing this particular novella. Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke is a bizarre fantasy of manipulation and depravity. You might be interested to know the very first draft of the piece was written over the course of merely five days – a nightmarish fever dream of inspiration, an arduous ordeal of painstaking creativity. Though I am and will continue to be an advocate for any artist’s mental health, I quite literally pushed myself to dangerous areas of my mind during those five days of creative Armageddon.

There are many people to whom I’m forever indebted for their kindness and encouragement during and after the creation of this nasty little nugget of terror.