Chapter 3 - The Waking Ghost and the Cold Arrest
My eyes snapped open.
The harsh, fluorescent light of the ICU ceiling flooded my vision. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. My face was completely devoid of emotion, as smooth and cold as carved marble.
Michael was sitting in the chair beside my bed, his head resting on the edge of the mattress, his hands tightly gripping mine. His face was pale, his eyes swollen shut from hours of continuous weeping.
"Michael," I whispered. My voice sounded stripped of all humanity, dry and flat.
Michael jolted awake. He looked up at me, his face collapsing into a mixture of intense relief and profound grief. "Sarah! Oh God, Sarah... you're awake..."
He reached out to hold my face, but I didn't lean into his touch. I looked past him, staring directly at the ceiling.
"I heard the doctor," I said, my voice dead and steady. "The baby is gone."
Michael choked back a sob, fresh tears streaming down his cheeks. He couldn't bring himself to say the words out loud. He simply squeezed my hand and nodded, his shoulders shaking.
"Who is outside?" I asked quietly.
"Sergeant Miller from the police department is in the hallway," Michael rasped, wiping his face with his sleeve. "And... your parents are in the waiting room."
I turned my head slowly to look at my husband. "Why are my parents here?"
Michael’s eyes hardened into ice. "Because they think they can fix this. They brought Arthur’s corporate defense lawyer. They’ve been trying to force their way into your room for three hours to convince you not to press charges against Erica. Arthur offered to pay for all our medical bills and buy us a new house if we sign a non-disclosure agreement."
A faint, terrifying smile touched the corners of my lips. It was a smile completely devoid of warmth.
"Get Sergeant Miller," I commanded quietly. "And tell the doctor I want the surgery scheduled immediately."
"Sarah, the doctor said you need to rest before the procedure—"
"Get the sergeant, Michael. Now."
Three minutes later, Sergeant Miller stepped into the ICU room, taking off his hat. He looked at me with profound sympathy. "Mrs. Vance, I am so sorry for your loss. I need to take your statement if you are able to speak."
"I am completely clear, Officer," I said, my voice perfectly steady, unnatural in its composure. "I want to press full criminal charges against Erica Bennett for aggravated assault, battery, and the murder of my unborn child."
Sergeant Miller nodded solemnly, pulling out a small notepad. "Can you describe exactly what happened?"
"My sister Erica knowingly, intentionally, and maliciously struck my twelve-week pregnant abdomen with her foot," I stated clearly, every word recorded on the officer's chest camera. "She explicitly stated, 'I bet I can make the thing inside you quiet forever,' before kicking me. When I collapsed, my father, Arthur Bennett, kicked my unconscious body, refused to allow my husband to seek medical attention, and instructed Erica to kick me again."
Sergeant Miller’s jaw tightened. "Your statement matches the initial physical evidence and Mr. Vance's testimony. We have already secured the security footage from the front porch camera of your parents' house, which captured the audio of the entire incident through the open door."
My eyes snapped to the officer. "You have audio?"
"Yes, ma'am. Mr. Vance’s vehicle dashcam was parked directly facing the open front entryway. The microphone picked up your sister’s verbal threats, your father telling you to get up or he would let her kick you again, and the sound of the impact."
A cold, lethal satisfaction bloomed inside my chest.
"Sergeant," I said, looking him dead in the eye. "I want them arrested. All three of them. Right now, in the waiting room of this hospital."
"Mrs. Vance, we have sufficient probable cause to arrest Erica Bennett for fetal homicide and felony assault immediately. As for your parents, they will be taken in for questioning regarding obstruction and accessory after the fact."
"Do it," I whispered. "And make sure they are handcuffed in front of everyone."
Ten minutes later, the peaceful silence of the hospital’s main floor was shattered by a commotion.
I insisted on being wheeled out in a wheelchair by Michael to witness it myself. Connected to an IV drip, wearing a hospital gown, with a heavy white bandage wrapped around my head, I sat silently in the wide hallway outside the waiting area.
In the center of the lobby, four uniformed officers were surrounding my family.
"Erica Bennett, you are under arrest for first-degree fetal homicide, aggravated assault, and felony battery," Sergeant Miller declared loudly, grabbing Erica's arms and pulling them behind her back.
SNAP.
The metal handcuffs clicked securely around Erica’s manicured wrists.
"AHHH! GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!" Erica shrieked, thrashing violently. "Mommy! Daddy! Tell them to stop! I didn't do anything! It was a joke! She was faking it!"
"Officers, stop this right now!" Arthur bellowed, stepping in front of the police with his lawyer hovering beside him. "Do you know who I am?! I am Arthur Bennett! I contribute millions to the city council! I will have all of your badges for this!"
"Arthur Bennett, Eleanor Bennett," another officer declared, stepping forward with handcuffs held open. "You are both under arrest for obstruction of justice, felony child endangerment, and accessory to aggravated battery."
"WHAT?!" Eleanor screamed, her face contorting into utter horror. "I am a mother! I didn't lay a finger on her! You can't arrest me!"
As the officers forced my parents' hands behind their backs and clicked the cuffs into place, Eleanor’s eyes wildly scanned the lobby. She caught sight of me sitting in the wheelchair beside Michael.
"SARAH!" Eleanor wailed, her voice echoing off the high marble walls. "Sarah, tell them to stop! Tell them it was an accident! Erica is your sister, Sarah! Look at what you're doing to our family! Have you no heart?!"
I sat in my wheelchair, my posture perfectly straight, my hands resting calmly in my lap. I stared at my mother, my father, and my sister with eyes so cold, so hollow, and so entirely dead that Eleanor’s frantic screaming slowly trailed off into a terrified whisper.
I leaned forward slightly, my voice carrying across the quiet lobby like a whisper from the grave.
"I had a heart, Eleanor," I said quietly. "In fact, I had two hearts beating inside me when I walked into your house today."
May you like
I looked at Erica, who was pale and shaking uncontrollably in her handcuffs.
"My daughter is dead," I whispered. "And now, every single one of you is going to burn."
