The Forbidden

I’m still flicking when there’s a knock on the door a half hour later. Scrambling up from the couch, I go to let Lizzy in, pulling the door open with a huge smile on my face.

But it’s not Lizzy.

My smile falls and every drop of blood drains from my face.

Chapter 27

Stephanie.” I all but breathe, stepping back a few feet in shock.

“Hey, Annie.” She beams at me, bright and…normal? She looks normal, too. Composed and…normal. “I felt I should apologize for the other night.” Pulling her bag onto her shoulder, she walks straight in without me even offering.

She doesn’t know about me, I tell myself. Act normal! I look back onto the street, mindful that Jack could come back at any moment and change that.

“How are you?” I ask, just for the sake of it, because I haven’t the foggiest idea what else to say.

“Great!”

Great? She looks normal. She claims to be great. What the fuck am I missing? “That’s…great.” I smile awkwardly. I need to get her out. “I was just popping out,” I say as non-offensively as I can.

“Oh, I won’t keep you.” She smiles and I’m sure her eyes drop to my stomach for a split second. No. I’m being paranoid. My stress is playing mind games with me. “I won’t keep you. Jack will be home from work soon.”

He will? I’m speechless. “You’ve sorted things out?” I try not to pose it as a question, but my voice is high and squeaky, betraying me.

“Yes, didn’t he tell you?”

I pull back. Why would she say that? Why would she think that Jack would tell me? “I haven’t seen him.”

She smiles again, except this time there’s an evil edge and I’m definitely not imagining it. I’m not being paranoid. “Do you think I’m stupid?” she asks, stepping forward.

My lungs drain on a shaky exhale. Deny it. Just deny it. “What are you talking about?” I laugh. It’s nervous and she doesn’t miss it.

“All that time you were pretending to be my friend?”

I back away, aware of just how precarious this situation is. She might appear calm, but her words are telling me otherwise. Pretending to be her friend?

She looks volatile. Her eyes are on my stomach again, and her palm flattens across her belly. She smiles fondly as she circles her midriff, slowly, something disturbing in her deep-set eyes.

“It was you all along. You are a pathetic whore, Annie,” she muses quietly, looking up at me. “He’ll never leave me.”

My flesh goes cold. I mustn’t confirm what she suspects. I need to play dumb. Keep my cool. “Stephanie, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She sniffs, looking down at her wrist, inspecting it. She’s planning where she’s going to make the cut.

“It won’t work,” I blurt, losing control of my mouth, fighting down the anger her subtle hint has spiked. “Not again.”

Her eyebrows jump up, surprised. “Excuse me?”

“He’s told me,” I confirm. It’s too late now. “He’s told me everything.”

Her lips curls. “You’ll be a distant memory by tomorrow, you vindictive bitch. You and that bastard child of yours. A minor indiscretion. That’s all.”

I want to scream in her face, tell her he loves me, but something stops me. It’s not a sudden comprehension that I’m dealing with a woman who doesn’t think twice about lashing out at her husband, therefore won’t hold back from going at me with those talons of hers. It’s the sudden comprehension that she knows I’m pregnant. I snap my mouth shut and back up. She was looking at my stomach. No one else knows I’m expecting. Only Jack and Lizzy.

“How do you know I’m pregnant?”

She scowls. “Jack told me.”

“No he didn’t.” Jack wouldn’t do that, not with her being so volatile. He hasn’t even told her about me. Yet she knows. And she knows I’m carrying her husband’s child.

I rack my brain, and quickly step back when something crazy and very disturbing starts to itch at the corners of my mind. I rewind to the night Stephanie turned up unexpectedly at my apartment, looking for a friend after Jack left her. She used my bathroom. She had to go through my bedroom to get to my bathroom. My leather slouchy bag was on my bed. My pregnancy test was in my bag.

My thoughts seem ridiculously crazy. But then, this is Stephanie, and it’s confirmed how crazy she can be. I rush over and grab my bag from the floor where Jack tossed it in the lounge, rummaging through it to find the test. I’ve been using this same bag for over a week since that night. I don’t recall seeing it in here. Where is it?

I turn the bag upside down, emptying the contents onto the floor and scanning it all. No test. Then I rifle through the inside pockets, just to check it hasn’t slipped into one of those. Nothing.

I gasp, my eyes shooting upward, finding Stephanie in the doorway to my lounge, watching me frantically search. She knows what I’m looking for. I’m not losing my mind.

“You stole the test from my bag,” I accuse on a burst of stunned breath. “You took it and claimed it was yours.”

“You will stay away from him!” she screams, slamming her fist into the door frame. Her knuckles split on impact, the force of her strike echoing around my apartment. “Do you hear me!” she roars, her fists clenching. “I’ll fucking kill you and that bastard baby of yours! Don’t think I won’t!”

I see the scratches on Jack’s neck. The mark on his cheekbone. The state of his back. And then I see pure red fury but just hold my composure before I return the favor and rip her to shreds. “You can’t hurt me, and you can’t hurt Jack anymore either.”

Her eyes go wild and she lunges at me, catching me off guard. I’m dragged into the hallway and slammed into the wall. My breath is knocked out of me, and I don’t get a chance to get it back before her palm connects with my cheek. Pain slices me in half, and she just keeps coming and coming at me, attacking me. “You asked for this!”

As each blow connects, I struggle through the chaos to try to defend myself. My arms are wrapped around my stomach, protecting it, willing to accept her rage on any part of my body but there. But then her fingers are clawing around my wrists, trying to pull them away.

I see a baby. A defenseless baby relying on me for protection.

With sudden strength, I violently shove her away. She hits the wall opposite me with a bang, but I give her no opportunity to gather herself. I yank the front door open and grab her by her hair. My only purpose is to put a barrier between us. I feel murderous, and adrenaline’s thundering through my veins.

“I’ll kill you!” she shrieks. “I’ll make you pay for trying to take him from me!”

I don’t shout back at her. I don’t scream and wail, and I don’t try to hurt her. My only focus is just to get her away from me. Get her away before she does either of us any damage.

I use all my strength to shove her out. Slamming the door, I fall against it, gasping for breath. I expect her to start banging on the wood, but there’s nothing. I run into the lounge and grab my phone before I rush to the window. She comes into view, standing still on the pavement outside.

“Oh my God,” I whisper, my eyes falling to her wrists where she’s holding a knife. “Stephanie, no!” My instinct has me dashing for the door and running out to stop her. “Stephanie, stop!” My stare zeroes in on hers, and I manage to appreciate the intent in her deep-set blue eyes as I near. She’ll do it. I have no doubt. I pelt forward, ready to knock the knife away or snatch it; I’m not sure which. All I know is that I have to stop her.

She doesn’t move, doesn’t try to escape me. No. Instead, she smiles and turns the knife toward me. It takes a few too many seconds for my brain to engage and register what she’s doing, the reckless glint in her eyes confusing me. I tell my legs to stop running, to bring me to a stop before it’s too late.

Stop!

“No!” I cry, skidding to a halt and bending my body, bringing my stomach in as much as I can to avoid the blade as she charges

forward.

“Bitch!” she screams. “You won’t have him!” Her body collides with mine, knocking me to the side on a grunt. I gasp and feel at my stomach, searching for any blood. I can’t see anything. Nothing obvious, but I don’t look for long. I haven’t got the luxury of time. I run back to my apartment, too aware of the damage she could do to me if I don’t get away. I bolt the door and run to my window, gasping for breath.

There’s no sign of her anywhere. I have another quick check over my abdomen and freeze, waiting for any pain to kick in. Nothing. Tears of relief burst from my eyes as I grab my phone and dial Jack, returning to the window to look for her.

“Hey, baby,” he answers, sounding happy. Content.

“Stephanie was here!” I shout urgently, exhausted, my breath loud and strained. “Jack, she has a knife. She attacked me with a knife.”

“Jesus!” he chokes, and the background noise of his engine gets louder, evidence of him hitting the floor with his foot on the gas pedal. “Where are you?”

“Inside. I got her out and locked myself inside.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Nothing major.”

“Nothing major?”

“A few scratches, that’s all.” I look down at my arm and see evidence of her nails, just like I’ve seen on Jack’s body. “She’s not pregnant, Jack. She stole my pregnancy test from my handbag.” I return my attention to the window, my eyes darting left to right, searching for her outside. She’s gone.

“What?”

“The pregnancy test. It was mine.”

“But she did it while I was there.”

“Did you watch her? On the toilet?” It sounds like a stupid question, but she could have switched them.

He’s silent for a second before he whispers, “No. She was in the bathroom. I waited outside.”

I close my eyes, reaching up to my cheek and pressing into the burn. “It was mine,” I repeat quietly. “She knows it’s me. And she knows I’m pregnant.”

I hear his sharp inhale. “Call the police. I’m around the corner. Don’t open the door until I’m there.” He hangs up before waiting for my agreement, and I watch the street from the window as I dial 999 and bring the phone to my ear. When I see his Audi round the corner, I nearly fold with relief.

“Emergency. Which service do you require?”

“Police.”

Jack zooms into a parking space across the street and jumps out, heading quickly around the car to the road. But he pulls to a stop abruptly, looking over his shoulder, something snatching his attention. My heart stops in my chest as he backs up, turning toward something. Or someone. I can’t see who; there’s a van blocking my view, but I don’t need to see. She’ll be waiting for him.

“Jack!” I shout, banging at the window. “She has a knife!”

He doesn’t look my way. He can’t hear me. I start to tear up as I drop the phone, then rush for the door and unbolt it, running out onto the street.

“Jack!” I yell, frantic. He looks to me, frowning as I leap into the road just as someone walks out from behind the van. But it’s not Stephanie.

My brain vaguely registers Lizzy and her widening eyes at the sight of me running across the road toward them, and my mind pulls up, as do my legs, slowing me down until I come to a confused stop. I look to Lizzy, then to Jack. He’s frozen in place, his mouth slightly open as he looks down the street. It’s then I hear the screeching of tires.

I turn slowly, seeing a car speeding toward me.

“Annie!” Jack roars. I hear his shoes hitting concrete as the car comes closer and closer.

“Annie!”

I’m a statue.

“Annie, move!”

Jack’s hysterical plea is the last I hear.

My bones, my flesh, my head…they all scream on impact.

But I don’t feel a thing.

Chapter 28

Beep. It’s all I can hear. The damn sound has embedded itself into my brain—the short, sharp, repetitive shots of noise assaulting my ears. I’m sure that’s all I’m going to hear for eternity.

My world is black and I can’t move. My body feels heavy—so so heavy, and my head is pounding terribly. My brain feels as if it’s been bouncing off my skull. Everything hurts—my head, my bones…even my skin.

Why am I in so much pain? Where am I? The blackness engulfing me shows no sign of fading. There’s no light anywhere to be found, and no matter how hard I try to convince myself to move, I can’t. My eyes won’t open and I can’t talk. Everything is failing me.

My mind descends into panic, and then quickly my panic turns to pure, raw fear. In my head I’m falling to pieces, hysterical and frightened. I’m crying but I’m not crying. I’m flailing but I’m not moving. It’s my own personal hell, and I begin to wonder if that’s where I actually am. Am I dead?

Beep!

That sound. It’s unbearable.

Beep!

A spasm in my eyelid surprises me, and I wait, wondering if I imagined it. I push my fear away and wait some more. Another twitch, this time in both eyelids. I focus, concentrate hard on the muscles in my eyes, willing them to open.

I’m filled with hope when I detect another spasm—small but definitely there. I get a glimpse of light, spurring me on. I need more. I can’t bear this blackness any longer. I shove the pain away and gather my determination and strength.

Beep!

My eyes open, seeming to wake my lungs as they do. Air gushes into me and my body inflates. My eyes quickly close again on a flinch. The combination of harsh light and searing pain bolting through my body makes it too difficult to keep them open.

I can’t scream. I can’t move to curl into a ball and curb the agony. My eyes fill with tears behind my lids, and the tears force their way to the corners of my eyes and trickle down the sides of my face into my ears. I work to regulate my breathing into smooth, even inhales and exhales, and the pain subsides a little.

Then I begin to open my eyes again, bit by little bit, squinting back the glare. My surroundings come into view. I don’t recognize anything. It looks like a hospital room.

Beep!

If I could make anything work, I’d sit up. Or get out of bed and find someone to tell me what on earth is going on. I try to turn my head and the movement triggers a wave of pain that rips through me again. I scream in my head. Oh God, I’ve never felt pain like this. More tears come, blurring my vision.

Beep!

And then I see him.

He’s slumped in the chair next to me, asleep, his head propped on his hand, his elbow on the arm of the chair. He looks haunted, even in his sleep. His skin is almost as gray as I know his eyes to be, and his scruff is the scruffiest I’ve ever seen. He’s wearing old jeans and a white T-shirt, and a blanket is spread across his lap.

My Jack.

Suddenly, the pain doesn’t feel so brutal.

His hand is wrapped loosely around mine, resting by my side. I see a bracelet. It has two charms. You & Me.

The sight of Jack along with the bracelet opens the floodgates to my mind. I close my eyes, willingly walking toward the memories. I’m at a bar with Jack drinking tequila. He’s licking me. And I’m staring at him in a complete, awed daze. I’m standing on the opposite side of the road from him. I’m pushed up against a rough wall, and then soon after a smooth window in a hotel room. I wake up in a bed with his beauty spread out beside me. I run. I relive every moment of the week that followed, remember obsessing over the intensity of our encounter and regretting not leaving him any way to contact me. I see his face when I open my front door on the night of my housewarming party. I hear glass smashing at my feet. I feel his touches and hear all his words, experience every kiss again and every painful thought. I feel his arms around my body when I threw myself at him after he gave me a solution to my roof predicament. I see him sitting across the boardroom table looking at me as if he were the proudest man alive. I see a pregnancy test. I see his wife and the crazy light

in her eyes. And finally I see a car speeding toward me.