Put her here,” a familiar male voice commanded, authoritative yet unsettlingly calm. It was Paul, MacKenzie’s husband, whom she loved dearly. His involvement twisted the knot of fear tighter. The situation unfolded like a grotesque parody. Paul had always harbored a peculiar sense of humor, but this surpassed peculiarity; it was malevolent. “Finally, she’s where…
Her heart raced. Screams were trapped behind her barely parted lips; only a strangled sound escaped. Her body felt distant, unresponsive, as if paralyzed by potent drugs. Outside, the van carrying what appeared to be MacKenzie’s coffin halted on a bumpy cemetery road. The driver’s door slammed, followed by the scraping noise of movement. As…
MacKenzie’s return to consciousness was marred by a bitter taste in her mouth and a drowsy confusion. Overwhelmed by an intense thirst and a wave of nausea, she struggled to orient herself. She lay in a cramped, confining space. Panic surged as she tried to move, her feet pressing futilely against an unyielding barrier. She…
The truth is, I didn’t get to finish school the way other kids did. I swapped prom dresses for prenatal vitamins and exams for doctor visits. My body was still growing while I carried another human inside it. And yeah, some days I’m exhausted. Some days I cry folding tiny socks because I don’t know…
But what they don’t see is that this room? I decorated it myself. Every pastel elephant on the wall, every second-hand plush toy washed and lined up with care. They don’t know I wake up before the sun so I can shower and prep breakfast before my daughter even stirs. That I juggle freelance gigs…
People look at me and see the stereotype before they even see my name. Blonde, young, folding baby socks on the carpet like I’ve got nothing better to do. I’ve heard it all—“must be living off benefits,” “probably dumped the baby on her parents,” “should’ve kept her legs closed.”
I nodded without turning around. “Yeah. Almost three.” She stood and came closer. “Mine were three when their dad left That stopped me cold. I glanced at her. She looked… calm. Not sad. Just matter-of-fact. I asked, “How’d you handle it?” She shrugged. “You don’t. Not all at once. You just do the next thing….
The swings were free, which felt like a small miracle. I lifted my sons into the seats, one after the other, and started pushing. The rhythm calmed me down a little. I didn’t even notice the woman sitting on the bench behind me until she spoke. “You have twins?”
That morning had already pushed me to my edge—spilled cereal, one tantrum, and a diaper disaster all before 9 a.m. I tossed snacks in a bag, grabbed the stroller, and practically marched us down to the park just to keep from losing it.
And then he looked up at me with this trusting little gaze, like he didn’t have a clue his life might change again in the next hour. I didn’t know what to do. My heart was caught between two sides of a story I didn’t fully understand. What if the guy was lying? But what…