Reset to the Day They Killed Me

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed.

The nurse told me, gently, that a farmer who lived nearby had finally pulled me out from under the car. He had worked at it for almost an hour.

By the time they got me to the hospital, the baby was already gone.

I held the tears back. I stared at the ceiling.

Before I had finished processing that I had lost a child, the internet was already on fire.

Someone had filmed the crash site. The clip had been edited and spread everywhere.

In the version on the internet, I was a temperamental pregnant woman who had been driving drunk and caused the accident. I had thrown a fit at the rescue site, occupied resources, and almost killed Maya.

The pile-on came overnight. The whole country wanted me dead.

"This woman is sick. How can a person be this disgusting?"

"Using her pregnancy as a weapon. Going after a rescue squad. Awful."

"I hope she miscarries."

Every kind of rot ended up in my mentions.

Mason, by sending Maya first, had picked up a fan club.

People said he had separated himself from his wife in the field, that he had not let personal life interfere with the job. People said he had handled it with grace.

He had traded my child for a halo.

I was the maniac woman every comment section in the country was throwing rocks at.

I gripped my phone hard.

I had lost the baby this time too. I had not been able to stop that. But this time I had walked into it knowing what was going to happen.

I was going to make Maya pay for him.

I called my lawyer to start drawing up the divorce papers. I started gathering evidence from the crash site, in person, while my body was still wrecked.

For all those days, Mason did not visit me once.

Every minute of his time was for Maya.

On her birthday, I scrolled to a post Maya had put up on her social feed.

It was inside the apartment Mason and I had picked together. There was a candlelit dinner on the dining table.

Next to the wine, there was a small jewelry box. Inside, the diamond pendant I had wanted for two years and never let myself buy.

She was wearing my best dress. She was leaning into Mason's shoulder. The caption read: 'Thank you for spoiling me, Mason. It's so nice to have a home.'

Open daylight provocation.

I did not call Mason crying this time. I did not push him to choose between us.

I tapped the like button. I commented one line.

[Everything in there is going to be yours soon enough.]

It took less than a minute for Mason to call me.

I had been about to bring up the divorce. He went off before I could open my mouth.

"Lara. What is this?

"Maya is a sister to me. That is all she has ever been.

"She had an accident. I bought her a present. She put on one of your dresses for the photo. What is your problem with that? Why do you have to go after her in public?"

The same script.

He was about to tell me, again, that his calculation in the field had been about how serious Maya's injuries had been, and that he had owed it to the team. He was about to tell me, again, that I should be understanding.

He knew exactly what the online mob was doing to me. He had not sent me one consoling message.

The patience burned all the way out of me.

"Mason, stop talking!"

The accusation cut off mid-word.

I let out a long, slow breath.

"My position is simple. I want a divorce."