Sparks jumped across the concrete while one responder shielded me with a heavy blanket and another spoke to me through the bars.
He asked how close the contractions were, whether I could feel the baby moving, and whether I could stay awake.
I answered until my voice stopped sounding like mine.
The cage door finally bent outward.
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A responder crawled inside, covered me, and helped slide me onto a stretcher without asking me to stand.
As they carried me upstairs, I passed the dining room where Marcus’s guests had left their plates.
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Steam still rose from the food.
A wineglass lay on its side beside Marcus’s chair, and the napkin at my empty place had been folded neatly beneath the silverware.
He had prepared the room to make my absence look ordinary.
Instead, every person at that table had become a witness to the lie.
My sister was outside near the ambulance.
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