The Secret

This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was just a thought, one based on fear and fear alone. That’s the catch though. A thought can be harmless. It’s the action that coincides with the thought that allows people into your psyche to judge whether or not you are explicitly evil. Does one action, though detrimental to life as you know it, make someone a saint or a monster? In my case, my fate and judgement is placed in the hands of the jury. 

Abigail ran. She ran as fast as her feet would carry her petite frame, taking each turn abruptly, and not having enough time to render the consequences of a failed split decision. She was running down the hallways of what seemed to be an abandoned hospital that had enough of a flicker in the light to help her navigate her quick, thoughtless actions. Adrenaline pulsing through her body, she caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of a window. She stopped cold in her tracks. She was drenched in blood. The light in the room behind the glass stopped it’s flickering, and focused in on a presence laying in a white clothed bed. It was a newborn baby, painted in gore. Abigail’s breathing halted, as she heard the echo of cries crashing into her consciousness. She ran to the door to open it, but it was locked. She screamed for help as she tried with all of her force to rupture the lock, but her efforts were destitute.

“Abby, wake up!”

Abigail opened her eyes. Disoriented and bewildered, she stared into the face of the man that could calm her fears with just a simple touch of his hand. Her husband grabbed her face, and began repeatedly kissing the bridge of her nose and forehead, telling her that she was safe. Safe, a word she could no longer grasp the meaning of.

“Another night terror?”, her husband asked.

Ever since the day the doctors ripped her newborn baby from her flesh, leaving her with just the thoughts of who and what that child would be, she hadn’t had a peaceful night of rest. It had been twenty years, so why couldn’t she shake the grief of her stillborn daughter, she thought?

One by one, the testimonies of my actions ripple through the room, like dominoes falling and colliding before me. How could I have been so naive? I am the center of attention in this room, yet, I feel invisible. 

Abigail quieted her mind that morning by flipping through the channels on the television, drinking her crisp, warm tea. Her heart and eyes remained heavy from the treacherous and  realistic nightmare she had the night before. Nauseous and tired, she nibbled on some pastries, trying to ease back her appetite. She landed on a documentary about travel locations that peaked her interest. “This will do”, she concluded. It wasn’t long before her mind started wandering off to what life with travel would be like if her daughter would have survived. A few years back, her and her husband decided to take a trip to reconnect after many failed attempts to conceive another child. It was easy for Abigail to blame all of the miscarriages on the stress of what happened. She carried that burden alone, not letting anyone too close, for she was too ashamed she couldn’t accomplish the one thing she was meant to be able to as a woman. 

Can anyone see me? Can anyone hear me? Does anyone even care? Are you all so perfect you can’t come to grasp that I couldn’t bear anymore discernment? Are you all so morally sound that you can’t come to grasp that I made a mistake and deserve another chance? I feel inhuman, like an alien in my own skin. 

Reminiscing on the pain, she remembered a woman sitting next to them on their flight struggling and apologizing as she tried to get her crying baby to sleep. 

“I’d be happy to take him for you so you can get some rest. Perhaps a fresh set of eyes will distract him to sleep,” Abigail offered. The woman was relieved and eager to try anything. As Abigail took the baby in her arms, she quietly hummed a tune from her own childhood, and the baby drifted off to dreamland. 

“You’re a natural. Do you have any children of your own?,” the woman asked. Every time someone asked this question, her soul dimmed a little more from the heartache of it all. Like the daughter she had lost, Abigail remained lifeless after the incident. Instead of little feet running along the hardwood floors, she was tasked with the sounds of her own thoughts running circles in her head. She had lost everything since that day. Her job, friendships, and even her marriage was hanging on by a thread. 

The grieving mother’s memories became interrupted when she heard her husband’s cell phone ring in the bedroom. She glanced at the clock, noting that the incoming calls have been taking place around the same time for the past week. Abigail never grew suspicious of who her partner was talking to, until it became transparent that he grew more distant toward her after every verbal exchange with the mysterious person on the other line. Her husband was hiding something from her, that much Abigail knew. She discreetly walked to the bedroom, feeling sensible to the fact that the door was closed. Without hesitation, she put her ear against the door, trying to access as much of the conversation that she could. The only sentence that she was able to fully register was that her husband would see who he was talking to soon. The silence that followed could only mean that the phone call had come to an end. Abigail took it as an opportunity to finally confront the inevitable. She held her composure as she walked through the doorway. Her gaze met his as she asked, “Who were you speaking to?” 

The husband was blinded by the fact that his wife had become observant the past few days. She was normally so lost in her scenarios of “what ifs”, that she never made an effort to pay attention to him. 

He drew in a deep breath, as if he was about to reveal a dark secret that had been weighing on him. 

“There is something that I need to take care of. I will be back for dinner,” he replied. 

The husband walked away with the little reassurance he offered his wife and headed out the door. Without giving it more thought, Abigail acted on her instincts, and decided to follow.  

It was never supposed to end this way. 

Abigail didn’t realize she was holding her breath with anticipation until she let out a long exhale when her husband pulled into a parking lot. Gripping at the wheel, she closed her eyes, praying that her worst fear would not become her reality. After a few long pauses of rational thinking, she decided to put the key back into the ignition and go home. She was always on edge after having a nightmare that featured her daughter. The paranoia was reaching into her soul and gravitating toward the worst version of herself. But when she looked through the glass window of the cafe to see the man that she was married to, everything changed. 

She remained frozen in time when her husband embraced a woman that looked to be in her early twenties into a long endearing hug. Life had taken everything away from her. The relationship with her husband was all she had left. Her conscious awareness was shadowed by nothing but emotions, disregarding any consequences that could follow. She reached for the hidden gun in her console. Her anger held a grip on the weapon, while her sadness pulled the trigger.  

I admit it. I murdered my husband and a young woman. I had been spiraling since the day I lost my daughter. Losing something that was created inside of me, in which case was a part of me, can leave scars that last for eternity. The wound itself can be hidden, but it will never truly go away. After all that I went through, the man I love still cheated on me. Call me what you want. The antagonist of the story, or a monster. Maybe I am. 

Abigail’s actions lead her to a psychiatric facility after the judge announced that she was found not guilty by reason of insanity. Her days became a series of daydreams and loneliness. Or at least it was, until she was told she had a visitor. 

A woman walked into her room. Abigail knew exactly who she was.  She had locked eyes with her when she was at the trial. The flashback of her appearance registered into Abigail’s memories. She was the mother of the young female that had met up with her husband on that very devastating day.

“I am not here to have a conversation with you. I have something to give you,” she explained. 

Stunned, Abigail reached over to grab a little black notebook. 

The visitor continued,“Please. Just read it. You deserve to know.”

Without hesitation, Abby began to read what was handwritten inside:


Dear Abigail, 

I lost my daughter because of you, but you lost your daughter because of me. 

Twenty years ago, I desperately wanted to have a baby. After so many failed attempts, my world that had once been painted with optimism and excitement, began to spiral into something dark. I would have done anything to finally bring a baby into mine and my husband’s lives. I began to feel helpless. Lost even. Until I encountered a young man that would forever change my life. He was about to become a father. He revealed that he was not fit to be a parent, and knew that he didn’t have the finances to properly take care of one. The only inconvenience was that his wife was eager to become a mother, and wanted the baby despite all of those things. The man needed money, and I desperately desired a baby. It hit me that fate itself brought us together under unusual circumstances. We worked together to fake the death of a newborn, and I had adopted her. We thought we were doing the right thing at the time. I allowed him to hold the baby and say his goodbyes. I could see the grief in his eyes, and knew that he would change his mind if he held her a second longer, so I had interrupted the only moment he would ever have with her. We had agreed to never speak again so that our tracks would always be covered. Despite the agreement, he showed up to find her twenty years later. He had lived with so much guilt for what he had done to the woman he loved. After witnessing his wife fall apart year after year because of what she had believed to be a loss, he wanted to make things right. The man I met was your husband, Abigail. And the woman with him was not my biological daughter. She was yours. I understand the truth might be hard to grasp. Despite the turn of events, I think you deserve a second chance. Your daughter would have wanted that for you. On the last page of this very notebook, I have given you $20,000 cash. I know it isn’t enough to make up for what I have done, but it is all I have. 

I am so sorry, 

Amelia Johnson 

Abigail’s heart sank. When she looked up to confront the woman, she realized that she was nowhere to be found. The only things she had left was $20,000, a little black book, and a family she could never get back.