Ashlyn tried to push herself up. She tried to rise.
But then she felt it.
Warmth. Wetness. Spreading between her legs. It was soaking into her dress, pooling beneath her.
She froze. Her eyes went wide with a terror she had never known.
She looked down at the floor beneath her.
A dark stain was spreading on the rug. It was red. It was thick. It was blood.
"No," she whispered.
She looked up at Carlos. Her face was ashen, drained of all color.
"Carlos," she said, her voice trembling. "Carlos."
Carlos looked. His eyes went wide. He saw the red pool growing, staining the white wool crimson.
"What?" he whispered.
The reality of what he had done crashed down on him. She wasn't faking. She wasn't lying.
Ashlyn screamed. It was a scream of pure loss.
"My baby!" she wailed. "My baby!"
She curled into a ball on the floor, holding her stomach, sobbing as the blood continued to flow.
