Six Months Pregnant, My Husband Threw Me Onto a Spinning Ride

Franklin's foster sister hitched a ride with me to the mall. The drive was smooth, barely a jolt, yet the moment the car shifted slightly over a speed bump, she clutched her seatbelt dramatically and burst into tears.

Without hesitation, she pulled out her phone and called Franklin, her voice trembling with distress. "Franklin! I almost died! The car was all over the place—I was terrified!" Her words dripped with exaggerated panic and I knew exactly what would come next.

That night, Franklin booked an entire amusement park. The bright neon lights flickered ominously as I stood by the entrance, dread pooling in my stomach.

"What are we doing here?" I asked, pressing a protective hand over my belly. At six months pregnant, exhaustion crept into my bones easily.

Franklin's lips curled into a slow, menacing smirk. "You enjoy a bumpy ride, don't you? Tonight, I'll make sure you get enough of them."

I barely had time to react before his men grabbed my arms and forced me toward the towering spinning disco ride. The seats swaying slightly in the wind. A suffocating sense of foreboding gripped my chest.

"Franklin, stop! Please!" I struggled, my voice rising in panic. "I'm pregnant! You can't do this!"

But he didn't listen. He never did.

Strapped into the seat, I felt the ride jerk to life beneath me. The engines roared, sending tremors through the steel frame. My heart pounded as the machine gained momentum, spinning faster and faster. My cries were swallowed by the howling wind.

"Franklin, please! Stop this! The baby—"

"Melodramatic as always," he sneered from the control booth, watching with amusement. "Pretentious, even. You act like you're dying."

The ride reached its peak speed. The violent motion threw me around mercilessly, my stomach twisting painfully. Agony ripped through my abdomen. A sharp, searing pain. I gasped, barely able to breathe. Something was wrong. Something was horribly, horribly wrong.

Then—

Darkness.

Blood. So much blood.

By the time the ride finally screeched to a halt, my vision was swimming. My body sagged against the restraints, drenched in cold sweat, limbs trembling. The last thing I saw before my consciousness slipped away was Franklin standing there, staring, his expression frozen in shock.

——

"Mr. Gibson? Your wife is in critical condition at the hospital. We need you to come and sign the consent forms immediately."

A pause. The voice on the other end was eerily devoid of concern.

"No need," Franklin replied, his tone indifferent. "Just pull the plug. And tell Quincy to stop playing games and get back home—I don't have time for her nonsense."

The nurse holding the phone gasped. "Huh? Hello? Hello?!"

On the emergency stretcher, my consciousness wavered between the unbearable pain and the cold grip of reality. Struggling, I reached out, weak fingers brushing against the nurse's wrist.

She looked at me, eyes filled with pity.

"Do you have any other family?" she asked gently.

I shook my head. My voice was barely above a whisper. "The baby... save the baby... please..."

And then everything faded to black.

When I woke up, my stomach was flat.

My fingers trembled as they reached down, pressing lightly against the empty space where life had once been.

No...

A deep, bone-chilling emptiness swallowed me whole. I forced myself up, every muscle screaming in protest. Barefoot, I shuffled toward the door.

As I stepped into the hallway, hushed voices reached my ears from the nurse's station.

"That woman is so pitiful. She had massive blood loss and her husband didn't even show up."

"Pitiful? Please. She brought it on herself. A spinning ride at six months pregnant? That's just asking for trouble. If I were her husband, I wouldn't care either. Shame about the baby, though."

"Yeah... It's just so sad. Six months along, yet never even got to live."

Their words sliced through me like shards of glass.

My baby... was gone after all.

The world tilted. My vision blurred. I stumbled backward, legs giving out beneath me.

"Careful!" A pair of strong arms caught me just before I collapsed.

The head nurse shot a sharp glare at the gossiping staff. "What are you doing? I told you to watch the patient and here you are gossiping! Do you want to lose your job?!"

The young nurse who had spoken first looked stricken. She hurried over, helping me back to bed.

Like a lifeless doll, I let her. Tears streaked silently down my face.

Perhaps upset for being scolded, she plopped onto a chair with an annoyed huff. "You just had surgery for excessive bleeding. Can't you stay put? You're just causing trouble for everyone."

I lay still, staring at the ceiling.

Why was I still alive?

My father was gravely ill. My husband tortured me for another woman. And I couldn't even protect my child.

Curling into a ball, silent sobs wracked my body. But no matter how much I cried, the pain never lessened.

That night, I didn't sleep. The shadows stretched long against the walls as dawn approached. Just as exhaustion finally began to pull me under, the shrill ring of my phone shattered the silence.

I reached for it with shaking hands.

"Quincy," Franklin's voice came through, cold and clipped. "I only gave you a mild punishment and you're making a big scene. Why are you running away from home? Haven't you had enough?"

A pause.

"Anya wanted your porridge. She's feeling unwell. I don't care where you are—get back here and make it for her. Now."

Not a single word about the baby. Not a single word about me.

All he cared about was Anya.

I lowered my gaze, yet no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't suppress the sorrow suffocating my heart.