Chapter 1

The Vermont air felt crisp this morning, a good sign.

I was four months pregnant, my first baby, and everything felt new, exciting.

David, my husband, held my hand as we walked into Dr. Peterson' s office.

He was a history teacher at the local high school, everyone loved him.

"Nervous?" he squeezed my hand, his smile easy.

"A little," I admitted, "But mostly excited."

We were here for the results of the advanced prenatal genetic screening.

Dr. Peterson greeted us warmly, his office cozy, smelling of old books and antiseptic.

"Sarah, David, come in, sit down."

He shuffled some papers on his desk.

"Well, I have good news," he started, his eyes kind. "The baby is perfectly healthy. All markers look good."

Relief washed over me, a warm wave. I looked at David, his face bright.

"That's fantastic news, Doctor," David said, his voice full of joy.

He leaned over and kissed my temple.

Then, a thought seemed to strike him, an academic curiosity. David always loved details.

"Doctor, would it be possible to see the detailed genetic marker report? Just out of interest, you know, the raw data."

Dr. Peterson hesitated for a moment.

"It's quite technical, David, mostly just strings of letters and numbers. But if you insist."

He printed out a few sheets and handed them to David.

I watched David' s face as he scanned the pages.

His cheerful expression didn't just fade, it shattered.

It froze into something I' d never seen before, a mask of pure, abject horror.

His skin went pale, a sickly white.

The papers trembled in his hand.

"David? What is it?" I asked, my own heart starting to pound.

He didn't look at me. His eyes were fixed on that report.

Then, he looked up, not at me, but at Dr. Peterson, then back at the paper, then finally, his gaze landed on me.

It was cold, terrified, and full of something else… repulsion?

"Sarah," his voice was a choked whisper, unrecognizable. "You need to have an abortion."

The words hit me like a physical blow.

"What? David, what are you talking about? Dr. Peterson just said the baby is healthy."

Confusion warred with a rising terror.

"He doesn't understand," David hissed, his eyes wild. "You don't understand. This… this is a monstrosity. It can't be born."

"A monstrosity? David, stop it, you're scaring me!"

"We have to terminate. Immediately."

He stood up, pacing the small office like a caged animal.

Dr. Peterson looked bewildered. "David, I assure you, the primary health indicators are all positive. Is there something specific on that report that's alarming you?"

David ignored him, his focus entirely on me, his face contorted.

"If you won't do it, I'll make you."

Then, he pulled out his phone.

"I'm calling your parents."