The first drop of red hit the gray concrete. It was small, bright, and warning.
Aderinsola sat on the edge of the thin mattress. Her hands were pressed against her stomach. The pain was not a dull ache. It was a sharp, jagged pull. It felt like something was trying to tear its way out of her.
"No," she whispered. "Not now. Please, not now." She looked at the steel door.
It was solid. It had a small slot for food. It had no handle on the inside. She was a bird in a box, and the box was starting to crush her. She stood up. Her legs felt like they were made of water.
She stumbled to the door. She hit the metal with her fist. The sound was flat but loud in the small cell.
"Guard!" she shouted. No one answered. The hallway was a tunnel of silence. "Please! I need help! I'm bleeding!" She heard laughter from the end of the block. It was the guards. They were talking about a game and dinner.
They didn't care about the woman in Cell 4021. Rin fell to her knees. The floor was freezing. The cold moved through her thin orange uniform. She felt more heat leaving her body.
The red patch on the floor was growing. It looked like a map of a place she didn't want to go.
"Lucien," she sobbed.
She thought of the penthouse, the soft sheets, the way he had touched her stomach and promised that their child would have everything.
He was a liar. He was a man made of secrets and silk. He was probably drinking wine while she sat in the dirt. She grabbed the bars of the small window in the door. She pulled herself up. She screamed until her throat felt raw. She screamed until her lungs burned.
The slot in the door slid open and a pair of eyes looked in. They were bored eyes.
"Quiet down, 4021," the guard said.
"I'm losing my baby," Rin said. Her voice broke. "I need a doctor. Now."
The guard sighed. He looked at his watch. "The infirmary is closed for the night. You can see the medic at the morning bell."
"I won't make it to the morning bell! Look at the floor!" The guard looked down. He saw the blood and didn't move. He didn't call for a medic. He pulled a radio from his belt.
"We have a mess in 4021," he said. "Send a cleanup crew and the night tech."
The night tech was a man named Miller. He wore a white coat that was stained at the cuffs. He didn't use a gurney or a wheelchair. He made Rin walk.
She leaned against the wall as she moved down the hall. Every step was a battle, sharp like a knife.
The other inmates watched from their cells. Some were silent. Some made jokes.
The infirmary smelled of bleach and old blood. It was a small room with two beds. The sheets were gray.
"Sit," Miller said.
He didn't even bother to wash his hands. He didn't put on gloves. He grabbed a chart and said aloud.
"Aderinsola Adeyemi," he read. "Age twenty-three. Charges: Grand larceny. Sentence: Five years."
"I'm pregnant," Rin said. She was shaking. "I'm thirty-six weeks."
"You were pregnant," Miller corrected. He looked at her with no expression. "Now you're a liability."
"Do something! Help me!"
"There is nothing to do," Miller said. He walked to a cabinet and pulled out a tray.
"The body is rejecting the tissue. It happens to people like you."
"People like me?"
"Criminals. Stress. Poor diet. It's nature's way of cleaning up."
Rin wanted to hit him. She wanted to scream. But the pain took her voice. It surged. It was a wave that went over her head. She doubled over on the bed.
"It hurts," she gasped. "Help me."
"I'm going to give you a sedative," Miller said.
He picked up a syringe. "You're being too loud. You're disturbing the facility."
"I don't want a sedative! I want to see a real doctor! I want to save my baby!"
Miller grabbed her arm. His grip was like iron. He was strong. He was used to dealing with people who didn't want to be there.
"You don't have a choice, 4021. You signed away your choices when you stole from Blackwood."
The needle went into her skin. It was a cold sting. Rin fought it. She tried to push him away. She tried to stay awake. She had to stay awake. If she went to sleep, she would lose everything.
The room began to tilt. The fluorescent lights became bright streaks of white. The sound of Miller's voice became a low hum.
"Lucien..." she whispered.
She saw his face in the shadows. He was standing in the corner. He was wearing his tailored suit. He was watching her. He didn't move. He didn't help. He just watched. Then, the darkness came. It was a heavy curtain. It fell over her and erased the world.
Rin woke up. The room was still. The lights were dimmed. Her body felt heavy. It felt empty. She tried to sit up. Her stomach felt like a hollow cave. The sharp pain was gone. It was replaced by a dull, throbbing ache.
She looked at her hands. They were clean. Someone had washed the blood away. She looked at the chair next to the bed. Miller was sitting there. He was writing in a folder.
"Where is it?" Rin asked. Her voice was a ghost of a sound. Miller didn't look up.
"Where is what?"
"The baby. My child."
"The procedure is finished," Miller said. "There was a complete evacuation. There is nothing left."
Rin felt a cold wind move through her chest.
"I want to see. I want to see the body."
Miller finally looked at her. He put his pen down.
"There is no body. It was just tissue. It's been disposed of as medical waste."
"Waste?" Rin's voice rose. "That was my child! That was a person!"
"In this facility, it is waste," Miller said. "You should be glad. You can't raise a child in a cell. This saves the state a lot of money."
"You killed it," Rin said. The thought hit her like a physical blow. "You didn't try to save it. You just let it happen. Or you made it happen."
Miller stood up. He walked to the bed and leaned over her. He was too close.
"Be careful, 4021. Those are heavy words. Accusations like that will get you more time in the hole."
"I don't care about the hole! I want the records! I want the proof!"
"The records are clear," Miller said. He tapped the folder.
"Spontaneous miscarriage. No foul play. No negligence."
Rin reached for the folder. She wanted to see the ink. She wanted to see the lies. Miller pulled it away and stepped back.
"You don't get to see the files. They are the property of the Department of Corrections. You are a ward of the state. You have no rights to your medical history."
He walked to the door and turned the handle.
"The guards are coming to take you back to your block," he said. "Don't make a scene. If you scream again, I'll double the dose of the sedative." He left the room.
Rin lay back on the bed. She looked at the ceiling. She felt the tears start. They were hot and ran slowly. She put her hand on her stomach. It wasn't flat. It was silent.
She thought about the ledger at the office. She thought about the numbers Lucien had protected. He had traded a life for a line of credit. She didn't feel like a person anymore. She felt like a ghost.
The door opened. Two guards walked in. They grabbed her by the arms and hauled her up.
"Let's go, 4021. Back to your cage." They dragged her through the halls.
Rin didn't fight. She didn't speak. She kept her eyes on the floor. She saw a janitor mopping the hallway near the infirmary. He was cleaning up a trail of red.
She looked at the bucket of water. It was pink. That was all that was left of her future. A bucket of pink water.
They threw her back into her cell, slammed the door and Rin sat on the concrete. She didn't go to bed. She stayed in the dark. She reached into her pocket and felt something. It was a small scrap of paper. Miller must have dropped it when he was leaning over her. She held it up to the light coming from the hall. It was a copy of her intake form.
But there was a note in the margin. It was written in a different handwriting. It was a name and a phone number. The name was Vanessa Cole. Next to the name was a single word: Resolved.
Rin gripped the paper. The ember in her chest flickered. It didn't go out. It grew. Vanessa had paid for the silence. Vanessa had ensured the "waste" was disposed of.
Rin closed her eyes. She saw the faces of everyone who had hurt her. She saw Lucien. She saw Vanessa. She saw Miller. She would remember them. She would count the days. She would wait for the door to open.
"I'm coming for you," she whispered to the empty cell.
Five years later, Rina Vale stood in the modern holding cell. The memories of the concrete floor were gone, but the feeling was the same. The metal was still cold. The air was still thin. A detective walked to the bars. He held a tablet.
"Ms. Vale," he said. "We've reviewed the medical records you provided from the state facility."
Rina stood up. She smoothed her charcoal suit.
"And?"
"The digital records say one thing," the detective said. "But we just got a physical file from a retired clerk. It doesn't match the database."
Rina stepped closer to the bars. "What do you mean it doesn't match?"
"The database says there was a miscarriage," the detective said. "But the physical log shows a birth. A live birth. Twelve minutes after the sedative was administered."
Rina felt the world stop. The air in the room vanished.
"A birth?" she whispered. "Where is the child?"
"That's the problem," the detective said. He looked at the tablet. "The record ends there. The page with the transfer details has been ripped out. There is no name. There is no destination."
Rina gripped the bars. Her knuckles turned white.
"Who signed the log?"
The detective scrolled down.
"Dr. Miller," he said.
"And the witness who authorized the transfer of the 'medical waste' to a private facility."
"Who?" Rina demanded. The detective looked at her.
"Lucien Blackwood."
