After My Husband Drugged Me to Kill Our Babies

The wellness retreat sat at the edge of a pine forest two hours north of the city. I drove there alone. Derek didn't ask where I was going. He hadn't asked much of anything in the three weeks since the bleeding stopped.

The main building was all white stone and floor-to-ceiling windows. Inside, everything smelled like lavender and something else I couldn't name. Something expensive. The woman at the front desk smiled and handed me a key card. "Your room overlooks the meditation garden," she said softly. "We hope you find peace here."

I nodded and walked away before she could say anything else.

Ellis had recommended this place six months ago. Back when I still thought she was trying to help me. Back when I believed the herbal teas and breathing exercises might be the reason I kept losing babies instead of something else. Something deliberate.

I unpacked slowly. Hung my two dresses in the closet. Set my phone on the nightstand and turned it face down. The room was quiet in a way that made my ears ring. I sat on the edge of the bed and pressed my thumb against the inside of my wrist until the pressure turned into pain.

That evening I walked the grounds. The paths were lined with smooth river stones. Everything was designed to be calming. I passed other guests—women mostly, moving in pairs or alone, all of them looking like they were carrying something heavy and trying not to show it.

I wasn't looking for anything. I was just walking.

But then I turned down a corridor I didn't recognize. The signs said PRIVATE WING – STAFF ONLY. I should have turned back. I kept going.

The hallway was narrower here. The lavender smell was gone. I heard voices ahead—low and muffled through a door that was cracked open maybe two inches. I slowed. I don't know why. Maybe some part of me already knew.

I looked through the gap.

Derek stood inside what looked like a private birthing suite. Soft lighting. A hospital bed with clean white sheets. Medical equipment on a rolling cart. And Ellis—heavily pregnant, her hand resting on the curve of her belly—sitting in a chair while a nurse checked her vitals.

I stopped breathing.

Derek was talking to the nurse. His voice was calm. Clinical. The voice he used when he was closing a deal.

"The medication protocol worked exactly as intended," he said. "Three clean terminations. No complications. No one suspected anything."

The nurse nodded and made a note on her clipboard.

Derek glanced at Ellis. His hand moved to her shoulder. "This one is the only one that matters."

Ellis smiled up at him. Serene. Glowing.

I felt my knees unlock. The wall was the only thing holding me up. Eighteen years. Eighteen years of choosing him. Of believing we were the only family each other had. Of pouring every single part of myself into the space between us because I thought that was what love was.

Three babies. Three times I bled out on a bathroom floor thinking my body was broken. Thinking I was the problem.

He drugged me.

He killed them.

Derek turned. Our eyes met across the room. For a second neither of us moved. Then his face changed. He stepped toward the door. Toward me.

I ran.

I don't remember getting back to my room. I don't remember locking the door or sitting down or pulling my phone out. But suddenly it was in my hand and I was calling Jayleen and my voice didn't sound like mine.

"Sienna?" Her voice was sharp. Awake. "What happened?"

I couldn't finish a sentence. Words came out in pieces. "He—Ellis—pregnant—he killed them—"

"Where are you?"

I told her. She said she was coming. I said it was two hours away. She said she didn't care.

She arrived before midnight. I heard her knock and opened the door and she pulled me inside and locked it behind us. We sat on the floor with our backs against the bed. The curtains were drawn. The room was dark except for the thin line of light under the door.

I told her everything. My voice came out flat. Empty. Like I was reading someone else's story. The overheard conversation. The nurse. The medication protocol. Three clean terminations. Ellis's hand on her belly. Derek's face when he saw me.

Jayleen didn't interrupt. Her hand stayed pressed over mine the whole time. When I finished she was quiet for a long moment.

Then she said, "We're leaving. Tonight."

I shook my head. "I need to—"

"No." Her voice was hard. "We're leaving. And we're not coming back."

I looked at her. Her jaw was set. Her eyes were dry and furious.

"Okay," I whispered.

She started making plans.