His words stabbed through my chest like a poison-tipped knife.
I stared at that face, so close-once the one I was hopelessly in love with.
Now it was just cold, cruel, and heartless.
I laughed. Tears streamed down as I did.
“Jacob, people who betray real love-may they swallow a thousand needles.”
“Psycho,” Jacob muttered, brows furrowed, eyes full of disgust.
He shoved my chin away like I was something vile.
Fold Up
<A Thousand Needles for Love
Marcella let out a smug little laugh.
“Enough, Jake. Don’t waste your breath on someone who’s clearly lost her mind.”
Her heels clicked as she walked toward me, standing tall above me, gloating in her victory.
“Thanks, Belle. Really. Ten months carrying a baby, just to save my Arnold? You’ve been such a help.”
Just then, the baby on the operating table let out a soft, faint cry, like a kitten’s whimper.
I wanted to grab him and run. But I couldn’t even stand.
I looked at Jacob in despair. He wouldn’t save our baby. He only listened to Marcella.
Yes, he only listened to her.
I used all the strength I had to grab Marcella’s hand, eyes pleading.
“Ms. Simpson, I’m begging you… Please, let my baby go. It’s just a baby. It was just born… Whatever you want to do, do it to me…”
She shrieked and yanked her hand back.
“You’re hurting me!”
Jacob rushed to shield her, eyes flashing with ice.
Then he kicked me-hard-right in the shoulder.
My bone was already fractured. Jacob’s kick left half of my body paralyzed.
Pain surged from my shoulder like a tide.
I hadn’t even caught my breath when I heard his footsteps-slow, steady, like a death march.
I was terrified.
I’d never seen this side of Jacob before.
He suddenly raised his foot and stomped hard on my fingers.
Crack!
A sharp snap. Agonizing pain shot up my arm, and I screamed.
Jacob didn’t even flinch.
He stared down, face cold and merciless, as his leather shoe crushed my fingers inch by inch.
I couldn’t breathe from the pain. My mouth opened and closed in silence, like a fish out of
water.
Was this really the same man who once held me in bed and whispered soft words i
two years straight?
Fold Up
Then I heard him laugh. Quiet. Satisfied.
“These filthy hands-let’s see you play piano now.”
I thought of the white handmade piano at home.
When I first married him, I saw that piano and thought it was a gift. I was so happy, I ran over
to it.
I pressed a key, just about to play, when he stormed over and slammed the lid shut.
I screamed. My fingers nearly got crushed. I stared at him in disbelief.
He just looked at me coldly and said, “Don’t touch what doesn’t belong to you.”
I found out later.
That day, he went back to his college to give a speech. Passing the auditorium, he saw a girl in a white dress playing the piano.
The melody was soft and clear, the girl graceful-like an angel.
Just a fleeting glance. He didn’t even see her face. But it stunned him and haunted him for
years.
Then he met Marcella. That was when he realized-she was the one who’d dazzled him that
summer.
After that, he was willing to give her everything.
The best, the most beautiful, the whole world.
But-
I was the girl playing the piano that day.
Jacob waved impatiently. A few bodyguards stepped forward and tied me to a chair. I couldn’t
move.
The operation on the table continued. The tiny body that had been struggling moments ago slowly went still.
My heart dropped into an icy pit. Tears poured down my face.
I thrashed, screaming with everything I had.
“Baby! My baby…
“Jacob, you monster! You killed your own child-you’ll pay for this!
“Marcella! What did I ever do to you? Why are you doing this to me? You’re both going to hell!”
Annoyed by my screaming, Jacob grabbed a roll of medical tape, ripped off a strip, it over my mouth.
Fold Up
Then he wrapped it around the back of my head three times.
He turned to the others.
“Keep going.”
Then he looked at me-his eyes unreadable.
“Don’t kill the baby,” he muttered before pushing the OR door open and walking out.
Marcella smirked, pleased with herself, then waved someone over.
Moments later, a man walked in carrying a puppy and gently placed it in her arms.
Marcella beamed, stroking its head.
Then, as if it meant nothing, she poured the freshly drawn bone marrow into a dish and held it out in front of the puppy.
My eyes went wide. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
“Marcella, what are you doing?!”
That was the baby I carried for ten months.
He was a human!
“Marcella! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!”
Fury like I’d never felt before burned inside me.
I screamed. I thrashed. I howled. But the ropes held me tight.
I could only watch, helpless, as the puppy sniffed the marrow-then started eating.
“No! Stop! Stop it!”
I had never known true despair. Not until this moment.
Marcella walked up to me and slapped my face, lightly but mockingly.
“Isabelle, let me be honest. My son never had leukemia.
“I told one little lie-and Jake couldn’t wait to get you pregnant, just to harvest the marrow for
my son.
“To him, you’re nothing but a womb. Not even human. Just a tool.”
I knew.
I knew the second he crushed my fingers, one by one.
I knew the man I loved wasn’t a man at all.
I was blind. Pathetic. I deserved it.
Fold Up
“As for this baby…”
Marcella strolled over to the operating table, picked the baby up by one tiny leg, and lifted him like a rag doll-just enough to show me.
Only then did I realize my baby was a boy.
“If it were a girl, maybe I’d have let her live. Too bad.”
She laughed-and then she flung him.
Just like that, he landed in a trash bin.
Something inside me shattered.
My scream tore through the hospital walls.
Then everything went black.
***
When I came to, I was in the basement of Jacob’s house. Damp. Stale. Dimly lit. The air stank
of mildew and mold.
I was curled up on the cold floor. Every inch of me ached-fractured shoulder, shattered fingers.
Even the smallest movement made bones grind against each other in sickening pain.
But worse, my C-section scar had torn wide open during that crawl. It burned like fire, the smell of rot and blood clinging to the air.
“You’re awake?”
That voice-icy, sharp, dripping with malice.
I flinched. Lifted my head, barely.
Marcella stepped in, dressed to perfection in a Chanel suit, heels clicking, a spiked leather
whip dangling from one hand.
“Why?”
“My baby… He was just born…”
My voice was barely a whisper, every word scraping my throat raw.
“Baby?” she repeated, then let out a laugh like she’d heard the funniest thing in the world.
She tapped my chin with the tip of the whip.
