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TMV-My mother-in-law buried me up to my shoulders at twenty-four weeks pregnant while my husband watched. “The laboratory says otherwise,” she said when I insisted the baby was his. They smashed my phone and walked away, leaving me struggling to breathe beneath the dirt. Then his sister stopped beside the pit, nudged my father’s old black device toward my trapped hand, and whispered, “Three presses.” They had always called it junk. Somehow, she knew what it could do…
PART 1 The first thing I remember clearly was not the shovel. It was my daughter kicking. One small movement beneath my ribs while cold...
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