Chapter Text
Prologue
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The late afternoon was too bright and too dark at the same time.
The girl pulled her thin jacket more closely around her body as she entered the more lively part of the town square, forced into the throng of people like an unwilling leaf in the breeze.
She kept her head down. She didn't need to see people staring or trying not to stare, their entire thought process plainly written on their faces:
What a careless thing to get yourself knocked up... at that age? Why, she can't be older than 15... Kids these days, making irresponsible decisions and then having to deal with the consequences. Tut, tut, how tragic.
Marielle Payne's grip tightened around the edge of her jacket as she tried to walk fast enough to avoid people brushing past her. This had been much easier a few months ago when her back hadn't actively tried to murder her.
She breathed out tiredly.
She should have really asked Nate to pick her up from Emma's place, but he had already driven her to two doctor's appointments last week, and she was starting to feel guilty. Not that the time he would have to spend on her would decrease anytime soon, whether she wanted to or not.
A man overtook her, barely an inch away from her, and the hairs on her arms stood as her breathing picked up.
She hastily scanned her surroundings for any place she could briefly duck into to catch her breath without being in the way but there were only shop windows and entrances, and she just knew someone would bump into her and she couldn't handle that, not right now, god, she hated this so much.
The world narrowed to a too-bright, too-saturated blur of people and noise, and she blindly followed the crowd with as much distance to everyone as she could manage, until finally, finally, she could leave the main street and disappear into a quieter part of town.
Her breaths came in shallow gasps, exhausted, and she was relieved beyond measure to see a bench in front of a big hedge that led to a residential home whose inhabitants apparently wanted to be left alone even more than herself.
Marielle lowered herself down onto the seat, tipping her head back for a moment as she tried to calm her breathing. Her hand came to rest on her belly in a tender gesture.
"You're getting heavy, you know that?" she asked softly.
Her voice shook way more than anticipated, and she realized how spent she felt, as if every person she had just walked past had taken some of her energy.
It was about ten more minutes until home. Maybe 15 with how slowly she was walking at this point.
She should call Nate. Being at his place and taking a pre-dinner nap sounded so nice. Maybe she could entertain baby Hannah a little once she wasn't as tired.
Then again, he and Clarice were usually completely wiped out by the duties of new parents, and she shouldn't put more onto their plate. She should probably call her mom instead.
Marielle sighed and leaned back her head again, closing her eyes for a few moments.
"Miss?"
She yelped softly, shooting upright and staring at the speaker with wide, startled brown eyes.
A woman, maybe in her 40s, or a little younger, took a step back.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, sweetheart, I didn't mean to startle you. Are you alright?"
Marielle willed her heart to calm down, swallowing.
"Yeah... yes, everything's fine."
"Are you sure?" the woman pressed, and the man beside her also turned around to look at her. Marielle shrank a little against the bench. "You're looking really pale."
"It's okay," Marielle said. "Really, I'm just. Resting."
The woman sat down on the bench beside her, and Marielle stiffened. It wasn't too close, at least for anyone who wasn't her.
"It's a lot, isn't it?" The woman said in a light, conversational tone. "I have three little ones of my own, all grown up now, and one really wouldn't think how heavy they get to carry around, right?"
Marielle smiled thinly.
"Yeah," she breathed, pulling her jacket a little tighter.
The woman angled herself toward her a little more, smile ever-widening. She had startlingly white teeth. Marielle found it a little jarring. Or maybe she was just anxious.
"How far are you along, dear, if I may ask?"
Please don't ask, Marielle thought, please just leave me alone with your pseudo-concerned veneer, when we both know you're gonna talk to your husband about how tragic teen pregnancies are as soon as you're almost out of earshot.
"About 6 months," she replied, then winced at a jab in her side. Instinctively, her hand ran over her jacket.
"What's wrong?" The woman asked, concerned.
Marielle frowned, but she couldn't find anything sharp in her clothes.
"I- Nothing, probably. Leftover sewing pin or something. I'll check it later."
She forced another smile.
The woman returned it. The man was still standing there like he really wanted her to be done now. Marielle was in agreement with him.
"You be careful with that," the woman said sweetly. "But dear, six months? That's quite far. Do you know what it'll be yet?"
None of your business, at any rate.
"No, it'll be a surprise," she lied. "I should probably get going now, or I'll miss dinner."
"Are you sure you're okay, dear? We can quickly drive you home if you want, it's no trouble."
"No, there's no need, thank you, though-" Marielle rose – and the world tilted instantly. She caught herself on the back rest of the bench and sank back down, head spinning.
What the hell??
The woman's hand touched her shoulder and she flinched hard, making her vision blur further. This was bad. This was really bad, why was she feeling worse than before?
She really had to call Nate.
"Those hormones can do a number on you," came a sympathetic voice. "Sit down, dear. Pat, bring the car over, alright?"
"No, I just need to call my brother," Marielle protested, fumbling for her phone with shaky fingers. The dizziness didn't get better at all.
The phone slid from her fingers and tumbled to the ground, her reflexes too slow.
"Shit, can you... please, I just need to call my brother, he'll pick me up."
The world was spinning so badly she felt sick. The woman was still touching her. She was saying something about it not being any issue and she could just say where she lived, surely it wasn't far?
"My phone, please," Marielle repeated shakily, squinting to make out where it was, but she couldn't see it.
A car pulled up on the curb, with the man at the wheel.
"Let's get you home quick so you can get to your doctor if it doesn't get better," the woman said, helping her up. Marielle swayed, wanting to pull away and completely unable to.
Her heart was pounding in her chest both from exertion and helplessness.
"It's not- please, I have a phone, I can call someone–" Her voice sounded like it was coming from underwater, and she wasn't sure if they had even heard it.
What was wrong with her, surely... oh no, don't let anything be wrong with the baby...
The car door opened and the woman half-lifted her inside with surprising strength. Marielle gave a surprised breath, vision blacking out for a moment.
She wanted to repeat that this wasn't necessary, but the words wouldn't come.
Her fingers curled into the seat to steady herself, but she was shaking too much.
There was–
There was someone next to her. A man.
The car door closed. The windows were tinted.
A hand clamped over her mouth before she could scream.
She still tried, muffled sounds crashing against the barrier as she tried to twist out of the hold, toward the door, toward outside–
No, please, I don't... Nate, help...
The engine roared to life, and the girl slumped against the seat, vision fading as the smile of the woman in the front seat turned into something triumphant and ugly.
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