GENESIS
My heart was pounding in my chest with every step I took closer to the classroom. My stomach churned with queasiness, and all I wanted was to run upstairs and curl under the bed sheets. I didn't want to face Miss Melissa—but I couldn't miss class, and I needed to get my bottle from her.
I knew there would be questions the moment I stepped through that door. Questions I didn't want to answer. And yet, part of me was curious why she hadn't shown the bottle to anyone else.
I stopped just a few feet from the door and stared at the handle. Taking a deep, steadying breath, I told myself not to act nervous. There was nothing written on that bottle—she shouldn't know what was inside.
With that thought, I pushed the door open and stepped inside, letting it close with a soft click behind me. Slowly, I moved toward her.
"You're ten minutes late, Genesis," her voice was firm, but she didn't look up. Her eyes were fixed on the notes she was writing in her book.
I rubbed the back of my neck, shifting from foot to foot.
She continued, "I would understand because you aren't feeling well, but we both know that's not why you're late." At those words, she finally looked up at me.
I tensed. That meant she knew I was hesitating because...
"Sit down," she said, dropping the small bottle in the middle of the table. My eyes locked on it immediately. I felt my vision blur, dizziness washing over me. Bile rose at the back of my throat, but I swallowed it down and slumped into the chair.
My eyes didn't leave the bottle. I wanted it back—I needed it back—but looking at it made me feel worse. The truth was, I didn't want it. I didn't want to keep taking it.
Tears welled up behind my eyes.
"You don't need to look at me like that," Miss Melissa said, her voice softer now. "I'm not going to tell your husband. If I wanted to, I would have given it to him when you handed it to me—before you passed out."
She folded her hands on the table. "It's none of my business. I don't know anything about your marriage or what you're going through. But that…" She pointed at the bottle. "…it's going to kill you."
My eyes locked with hers, wide and shocked. She nodded solemnly.
"I didn't mean to be nosy," she said, "but I couldn't help myself. I did some research on what's inside, and what I found is bad. I don't know where you got it, or who gave it to you, but that person doesn't have your best interests at heart."
That much, I already knew.
She added quietly, "And no matter what you're going through in this marriage…"
What I was going through in this marriage?
I didn't understand.
"You shouldn't risk your womb for it."
My brow furrowed. My womb?
I tilted my head, confused.
"This medicine won't just kill any baby inside you—it's designed to make sure you never have a child. The womb is meant to carry life, Genesis. It's inside you. And this…" She tapped the bottle lightly, her voice growing softer but more certain, "this is designed to destroy it. Bit by bit. You may not feel it now, but the damage is permanent. From what happened yesterday, it's already started."
My hands trembled in my lap. It felt like the ground beneath me had disappeared. Her words echoed inside my head—kill any baby in you… make sure you never have a child…
Now I know the truth. That was what Monica wanted. To make sure I could never carry life again.
I didn't know how to react. My lips parted, but my voice was caught somewhere deep in my chest.
Melissa leaned back in her chair. "Whatever fear or reason made you take this, you have to stop. If someone's forcing you—"
I shook my head. She probably thought it was Kieran.
I shook my head again, silently telling her it wasn't him.
She leaned closer. "Then why?"
I looked down at my feet as tears slipped down my cheeks. I couldn't tell her. I couldn't tell anyone.
But what we didn't realize was the camera blinking up in the wall, and it had recorded everything that happened.
****
I sat in the back of the car, my head pressed against the glass. Miss Melissa's words repeated in my mind, but in the end, I said nothing. I took the bottle and slipped it into my trouser pocket just as class was starting.
Though I didn't remember much of what she taught—neither the sign language, the new words, nor the math—they all felt like a fog.
I looked down at my hands, then at the bottle. I didn't even know why I was bringing it to ballet class. But I knew one thing for sure—it would not step foot inside the studio with me.
"What's that in your hand, Lily?" Daisy's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I turned to her, catching her curious gaze on the bottle, but I just shook my head.
Then, I gestured with my hand for her to tell the driver to stop. She glanced at me but nodded and did as I asked.
"Any problem, ma'am?" the driver asked, looking confused. I only shook my head again.
Thankfully, he stopped by a sidewalk with a public trash bin. Daisy pulled the door open for me, and I edged close but didn't step out fully.
I looked down at the bin, took a deep breath, and tossed the bottle in. Just like that—it was gone. Gone like the hold Monica had on me.
I was tired of being the mute little doormat.
My chest heaved with a small surge of freedom. I closed the door with quiet determination, held my head high, and nodded to the driver.
He stared at the door for a moment, then turned away and started driving.
My hand trembled. Suddenly, a small hand reached out and held mine.
I looked over at Daisy, but her eyes were fixed on her iPad.
It was time for a change.
Slowly, I would take back myself—and everything that had been
stolen from me.
I placed my hand gently on my stomach.
And let out a deep, steadying breath.