This Time I Win

Chapeter4

Morgana’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

"If the food isn't ready yet, why did you call us here?"

I reacted quickly. My heart was racing. Hannah stood behind me, and I could feel the weight of what she'd just done hanging in the air between us.

The deliberate cruelty. The knowledge that she'd done it in front of me on purpose.

But there was no time to panic. No time to think. Morgana was waiting. She always made you feel like you were moving too slowly, like you were wasting her time just by existing.

I quickly grabbed the food and hurried to the dining table. I set down the pots with trembling hands.

Part of me wanted to warn them. To tell them what Hannah had done. But another part of me, a smaller, quieter part wondered if I deserved this.

If this was what happened when you weren't good enough. When you weren't the woman your husband wanted.

"This looks delicious," Damian said, leaning forward to examine the chicken.

I watched him. He was smiling slightly, already reaching for his spoon.

The necklace I'd bought for Nora was still around her neck in my mind's eye. The way she'd touched it. The way he'd fastened it for her.

"I hope this is going to taste as good as it smells," Morgana said.

She picked up her spoon. Lifted it to her mouth. I held my breath.

She chewed once. Twice. Then her face twisted like she’d tasted something bad.

"Ah!" She grabbed the water bottle beside her and drank deeply, coughing and sputtering.

"Water!"

Damian frowned. He didn't hesitate. He picked up his own spoon and took a bite. For a moment, nothing happened.

Then his face twisted. He tightened his teeth. He spat the food back onto his plate.

"Did you want to poison me?" His voice was low and dangerous. "What is this?"

I opened my mouth to explain. To tell him about Hannah. To tell him what I'd seen.

"This food must be terrible," Hannah said casually.

She placed her spoon down on the table and folded her arms across her chest like she was bored. Like her brother wasn't looking at me like I'd tried to kill him.

"I didn't" I started.

Morgana stood up so fast her chair scraped loudly against the floor.

She grabbed the water bottle beside her, the one she'd been drinking from, and threw it. Not at Hannah. At me.

The water hit my face and neck, soaking my dress. I gasped, the cold shocking my system.

"Did you want to kill me, you witch?" Morgana's voice was dangerous.

"Are you trying to poison this family?"

I inhaled sharply. My lungs felt tight. The water was still dripping down my face, and I couldn't move. Couldn't speak.

Couldn't do anything except stand there and absorb the weight of their accusation.

That's when everything shifted.

The room started to blur.

The faces looking at me, Morgana's twisted with rage, Damian's cold with disgust, Hannah's satisfied with victory, they started to fade.

The dining room, the food, the water dripping down my skin, it all became distant and strange.

I blinked.

The sound of a car horn suddenly shook me.

HONK! HONK! HONK!

I was standing in the middle of a street. The sun was bright, it was hard to look at. The smell of exhaust fumes filled my nostrils.

Around me, cars were moving. People were walking. The city was alive and moving, and I was standing still in the middle of it like I was made of stone.

A taxi driver was leaning on his horn. His face was red. A vein popped out from the side of his neck, thick and angry.

"What are you thinking?" he screamed at me.

"Move! Move! This is not a parking lot!"

I looked down at my hands. They were shaking. My dress was dry.

There was no water. No Morgana. No food poison. No Hannah standing there with that cruel smile.

The water on my skin. The accusation in Damian's voice. The hatred in Morgana's eyes.

The taxi honked again, and I realized I was still standing in the street. I stumbled forward, my legs unsteady.

The driver yelled something after me, but I couldn't hear it over the sound of my own heartbeat.

My body felt heavy. Everything felt heavy. I made my way to the sidewalk and sat down on a bench, my hand moving automatically to my belly.

The baby was still there. Still moving. Still alive inside me.

I looked back at the street I'd crossed. The hospital was behind me somewhere. I'd left it hours ago, or maybe it had been minutes. Time felt strange. Fragmented.

A woman walked past me, shopping bags in both hands. She didn't look at me. Nobody looked at me. I was invisible. Just another person sitting on a bench in New York City, waiting for something.

But what was I waiting for?

I tried to think back to the hospital. The doctor had said something about my blood pressure. About stress.

About taking care of myself. He'd said to come back and see him before I left. Had I done that? I couldn't remember. The memory felt like it belonged to someone else.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out slowly. A message from an unknown number. Not Damian. Not my mother. Not anyone I recognized.

We need to talk about what happens next.

I stared at it for a long moment. Who was this? What was happening next? I felt like I was moving through water, like everything was happening behind glass and I could see it but not quite touch it.

The baby kicked.

Hard. Like he was trying to tell me something. Like he was trying to warn me about something coming.

I looked around at the city. At the people rushing past. At the taxis honking. At the sun beating down on the pavement.

Somewhere out there, Damian was with Nora. Somewhere out there, Morgana was sitting in her chair like a queen. Somewhere out there, Hannah was smiling about what she'd done.

And I was sitting on a bench, pregnant and alone, with no idea what came next.

My hand moved to my belly again. I could feel the baby through the fabric of my dress. The one I loved before I even knew his face.

Whatever came next, I would face it. I had to. Because this baby, my baby, deserved a mother who was stronger than her fear.