CELLBIRD

CELLBIRD Chapter 1 Clink. Clank. The sound of chains echoed down the concrete hallway. Arisa Rattanachai walked slowly toward the Chief Warden's office. Her ankles were shackled, her wrists cuffed in front of her. One hand rested over her swollen belly, rubbing it in slow, soft circles. Inside the office, Chief Kan was already waiting. Beside her sat a woman from the foster home with a file in her lap. "Mrs. Arisa Rattanachai," Chief Kan said without looking up. "Today is the last day. You need to decide your child's future." Arisa said nothing. She stood in the doorway, chains pooling at her feet, her face completely unreadable. Chief Kan slid a stack of papers across the desk toward her. "Sign, or we will take it by force." "I'm not giving you my baby," Arisa said calmly. Chief Kan let out a short, ugly chuckle. "You are eight months pregnant, Arisa. You could give birth anytime now. Sign the papers!" Her voice rose. "Just sign! Where do you think you are? This is not your mafia husband's house. The house he built off other people's sweat!" A flash of anger flickered in Arisa's eyes, but she hid it quickly. She would not give this woman the satisfaction of seeing her break. These people had done nothing for her family. Her husband had built factories, created jobs for their town. And what did they do in return? They said his factories polluted the river, that it made their children sick. Then they killed him. Arisa looked straight into Chief Kan's eyes. No anger. No pain. No sadness. Just emptiness. "My husband gave them work when no one else would," she said quietly. "And they killed him for it." Chief Kan leaned forward, her hands flat on the desk. "Your husband was a criminal, Mrs. Rattanachai. And you are too. That child does not belong in a prison." Arisa's hand tightened protectively over her belly. "My child belongs with me." *** She was alone in the cell when the contractions came. Arisa took a deep breath and looked around. Too soon. This baby was coming too soon, and she didn't have a plan. Another contraction tore through her, sharp enough to feel like it would split her abdomen in half. She bit down hard on her own hand to keep from screaming. If she screamed, she was doomed. She sank down onto the thin blanket, her back against the cold wall. She opened her legs and pushed, and pushed again, until she heard it — a small cry, then silence. Panic shot through her. She reached down and lifted him up. A baby boy. Wet, red, staring up at her with wide eyes, his tiny fist already in his mouth. Arisa checked his pulse with trembling fingers. Strong. Alive. "Oh, God," she whispered, pulling him to her chest. "You are so beautiful." For the first time in six months, since her husband died, Arisa smiled. A real smile. "Tian," she whispered, tears filling her eyes. "You are the light of my life." The cell door creaked. A female guard stood frozen at the entrance. There was blood on the floor. And a baby in a woman's arms. "Help me," Arisa said quietly. The guard opened her mouth to scream for help. "Wait! Please," Arisa begged. "They're going to take my baby away." The guard hesitated. "Please. I don't want to lose him." The guard thought of her own son at home. What would it feel like to have him ripped away? Slowly, she unlocked the cell gate. Her steps were careful, frightened. She knew she could lose her job for this. But she was a mother too. "Wrap him up," she said softly, kneeling beside Arisa. "He needs warmth." It was the first kind thing anyone had said to Arisa in months. The guard helped her fold the blanket around the newborn, covering his tiny body. "How are you going to hide him?" the guard whispered. "They will find out sooner or later." Arisa was silent for a moment, thinking. "What is your name?" she asked. "Lamai," the guard said, unable to take her eyes off the baby. Arisa looked up at her, sweat covering her face, blood still on her hands. "Well, Lamai. This baby died." Lamai's head snapped up. "What?" "Yes," Arisa said, her voice steady now. "I panicked. I threw the baby into the toilet pit and killed him. I couldn't bear the thought of them taking my baby from me, so I killed him." Lamai stared at her, shocked. "How— how are we going to do that?" "Listen to me," Arisa said. "I am the wife of a mafia boss. If you help me, I will make you rich when I get out of here. And if you have a child one day, our children will marry. Our families will be bonded. You will have access to everything the Rattanachais own." Lamai looked down at the baby in Arisa's arms. Maybe life could be better for her and her son. Maybe she would have a child, and that child would marry this woman's son. After a long pause, she nodded. "Okay. I will do it." "Lend me your phone," Arisa said. Lamai pulled out her small, old phone and handed it over. Arisa dialed a number she knew by heart. Her voice was a whisper, as it always was — even when she shouted, she never raised it. "Thanin," she breathed. "It's me. Arisa. I gave birth to a baby boy. They want to take him from me. Please, help me." *** "You will NOT take my baby from me!" Arisa was screaming now, her hair a tangled mess, blood everywhere. "Please! Ma'am, please calm down!" Lamai shouted, trying to hold her back. The sound of running boots filled the block. Wardens came rushing toward Arisa's cell. "What happened?" one of them barked. "This woman —" Lamai's voice shook, but she forced the words out. "This woman threw her baby in the toilet pit!" Everyone turned to look. The squat toilet in the corner was smeared with blood. A piece of umbilical cord lay on the edge of the seat, dark and wet. Silence fell over the cell. Later that night, an incident report was filed and pinned to the board: ARISA RATTANACHAI - BABY DECLARED DEAD. UNNAMED. DISPOSED IN SANITATION PIT. No name. No body recovered. No funeral. High above them, on the ceiling of the laundry room, tucked behind a stack of old sheets where no one ever looked, a baby was cooing softly. He stared at nothing, blinking at the bare lightbulb. He was wrapped in a small bundle made from an inmate's uniform to keep warm. Alive. And completely forgotten by the world.