Part 1The Bloodline Report

I was four months pregnant when my OB-GYN husband, Alex, accompanied me to pick up the prenatal screening report.

The smile on his face froze the instant he saw the results. Without a word of explanation, he dragged me toward the appointment desk to schedule an abortion.

I stood there, stunned. The attending doctor had just told us the fetus was perfectly healthy!

I wrenched my hand free and demanded, "Why? Why do I need an abortion?"

He didn't answer. He had already booked the D&C procedure on his phone.

Seeing I was about to run, he gripped my arm tight enough to bruise. "This child absolutely cannot be born!"

Protecting my belly, I frantically dialed my parents, who were also prominent OB-GYNs.

When they arrived, my father—who had always doted on me—raised his fist as if to punch me right in the stomach.

My mother looked horrified, shaking her head frantically. "No, we can't do it like this."

"Find a few men. Lock them in a room with Sarah."

I didn't understand why they wanted to dispose of my child—and me—in such a brutal way. I tried to flee.

But they overpowered me and threw me into a dark basement room.

When I saw the blood running down my legs, I knew my baby was gone.

My mother came to pick me up, smiling as if nothing had happened. I screamed at her, begging to know why they did this to me.

She didn't answer. She turned around and had me committed to a psychiatric ward.

I was tortured to death in that hospital. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day we went to pick up the report.

...

* * *

"Honey, this is our first baby. I can't wait to meet him." Alex looked at me, his face beaming with joy. "Come on, let's go. The clinic gets busy."

Hearing Alex’s voice, I snapped back to reality.

My hand instinctively went to my slightly protruding lower abdomen. I was pregnant. I was back.

In my previous life, Alex had been the perfect expectant father. He bought something new for the nursery every day and had a list of a hundred names. Since he worked at the hospital where I was getting my care, he always made time to be there.

At four months, we went for the standard genetic screening.

The doctor told us the fetus was healthy and ruled out Down syndrome. Alex, being a doctor himself, took a look at the detailed report.

That was when his smile vanished, replaced by a look of pure terror.

Without explaining, he grabbed my wrist and tried to force me into surgery.

"Alex, the baby is fine! Why are you doing this?" I had screamed, pulling away.

He ignored me, his breathing jagged, eyes bloodshot. "Sarah, this child cannot exist!"

Terrified, I had messaged my parents.

When they arrived, instead of saving me, they made it worse. My father punched Alex in the face, demanding to know why he wanted to terminate a healthy pregnancy.

Alex didn't speak. He just handed the report to my father.

The moment my father saw it, his anger turned into horror.

His hands shook as he held the paper.