The Price of My Placenta

My husband's beloved lover suffered from menstruation complications. A traveling doctor claimed that a fresh placenta was needed to cure her.

His gaze fixated on my seven-months-pregnant baby bump.

And thus, I was pinned down on the bed as they ripped the placenta from my body.

My son was carelessly tossed aside. He didn't even get the chance to cry before his tiny body fell silent forever.

My husband pinched his nose in disgust, frowning as he looked at me—bleeding out, feebly reaching for my child.

“It’s just a premature baby. He'll be fine after a few days of care. Why are you making such a fuss? Sandra is waiting for her medicine."

He left and locked the door behind him without looking back. He claimed it was a lesson I needed to learn.

By the time he finally remembered us, my son and I had long since bled dry, our bodies cold and stiff.

"Urgh! This is disgusting! It tastes like blood! I'm going to puke!"

Jack Lacroix patted Sandra Chambers on the head dotingly while looking at her as she sipped the liquid with furrowed brows.

"Be good, Sandra. The doctor said that the freshest placentas will help with your period pain. If you take it, your period won't be as painful when you have it."

Sandra placed the bowl down and hugged Jack around the waist. She said coquettishly, "Jack, you're the best! But are you sure Whitney won't be mad that you took this from her? The baby hasn't even come to full-term yet."

Jack was stunned, but he hid it well. He replied, "She won't. What right does she have to be mad? She played dirty to get pregnant. It's only right that she helps me with this. Besides, there are so many premature babies in the hospital, and all of them are still doing well. Why is her baby so precious?"

However, Jack had forgotten that I was not in the hospital.

I was only seven months pregnant. How could the baby withstand the violence of a grown-up man?

Jack had heard of a special remedy from some doctor, so he brought the doctor to me. They pinned me to the bed and violently snatched the placenta.

Jack had killed my baby before he had the chance to see the world.

Before Jack left, he locked me in a room and took my phone. "Take good care of the baby. Don't blame me for this, Whitney Shaw. You owe Sandra. You deserve this punishment!"

I tried to explain myself for the first time, but Jack could not be bothered to listen to me. I looked at him as he left.

I was helpless. I could not escape. Even if I broke the window, I was on the 28th floor. I could not escape through the window.

I hugged my baby; his body slowly went cold. I tried to open the door feebly. My nails broke, and my fingers were bloodied from all the scratching against the door.

A sudden pang of pain hit me in my abdomen, and I fell to the ground. I felt blood constantly flowing from my lower body as I gradually lost consciousness.

My soul detached from my body. I reached out toward my son, but my hands just went through his dead body.

I was overwhelmed with grief, and I trembled so violently that my soul dissipated into pieces.

When all the pieces of my soul were reattached, I found myself standing next to Jack.