Page 6 of Twisted Liars

“We convinced you that you fainted from the cervical exam, because that’s something that can really happen,” Zara added. “You bought it hook, line, and sinker.”

“It wasn’t really a Pap test, of course,” Dr. Carmichael said. “Girls your age don’t even need Pap tests. It was an insemination. That’s why I told you to lie on the table for a while after you woke up—to maximize the chances of you getting pregnant. If you stood up right away… well, gravity exists. I’m sure you understand what I’m getting at.”

My mind went blank for a moment. This couldn’t be happening. No way. I wasn’t pregnant.

I knew I’d missed my last couple of periods, but that had never worried me. During the appointment with Dr. Carmichael, she’d informed me that a common side effect of Depo Provera was a lack of period, and I googled it when I got home to read more about it. It was true—apparently lots of women didn’t have periods when they were on hormonal birth control.

“We knew exactly when you were at your most fertile, because we knew the dates of your last period,” Zara added. “Piper told us.”

Of course. Piper and her big fucking mouth. What a goddamned snake.

“It’s not possible,” I said even though the adults around me had just finished outlining how and why it was entirely possible.

“Why do you think I’m so strict with the ‘no alcohol’ rule?” Zara said, arching a brow. “It’s not really out of concern for you, Amerie. It’s for the baby.”

The baby. I gingerly touched my abdomen, still not believing there was anything in there.

“Haven’t you noticed any symptoms at all?” Zara went on, forehead creasing. “It’s just the early stages, but still, you must’ve noticed something.”

“Not all women experience morning sickness or other pregnancy-related symptoms,” Dr. Carmichael cut in. “All perfectly normal.”

Even as she said it, I knew it didn’t apply to me. I had experienced many symptoms. I just didn’t realize what was happening to me.

Around five weeks ago, when I discovered the truth about my father and that disgusting Carruthers contract, I was affected by exhaustion, nausea, and a distinct lack of appetite for a couple of weeks. I put it all down to the shock and horror of my discovery, never thinking for one second that I could be pregnant.

After that persistent nausea finally passed, I grew ravenously hungry and ate everything in sight for three weeks straight. Again, I had no idea that was a possible pregnancy symptom. I thought I was just making up for all those weeks of near-starvation when I felt too sick and sad to eat.

My mind flashed back to two nights ago, when Piper and I were getting ready for the Snowflake dance. I really should’ve suspected something when the dress I bought only three weeks ago was suddenly so snug around my chest that I could barely zip it up. In those frustrated moments, I put it down to the overeating, but now that I thought about it, I was certain my breasts had actually grown a bit.

“Oh my god,” I whispered, more to myself than anyone else in the grotto.

A surge of adrenaline flooded my body as the dark, twisted truth finally sank in, making my breathing turn shallow and rapid. My palms went slick with sweat, and my ears started to ring as my vision turned hazy. I felt like I was dreaming, floating untethered in a scene of my own subconscious, unable to escape until someone shook me awake.

“Grab her again, Ali,” Zara said. “It looks like she’s about to faint.”

Ali came over to me and gently led me back to my seat. “We can’t have you falling over,” he said, eyelids crinkling at the corners as he smiled at me. “We have to keep the baby safe.”

My stress and panic levels were in overdrive. I felt like I was about to faint and vomit at the same time, and my heart seemed ready to explode right out of my ribcage.

“Are you the father?” I managed to choke out.

Ali laughed. “Of course not. I’m fifty-three, so I’m hardly producing prime material in that department,” he said, patting my shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Amerie,” Dr. Carmichael said. “We only use sperm donors who are young and healthy with good breeding.”

“So who’s mine, then?” I asked. My breathing had finally slowed, and I was beginning to feel a sense of detachment from my body, like I was watching the scene unfold from a distance.

She shrugged. “I can’t remember. Once our donors are screened, they’re just numbers on a specimen jar. It’s really not important,” she said. “You’re the one doing the most important job here.”

I swallowed the bile that had risen into my throat and stared numbly at the ground. “Why are you telling me all of this now?” I asked. “Are you taking me away to the Playground?”

“Not just yet,” Zara said. “We still need to finish setting things up to make it appear as if you ran away due to mental instability and drug use. When you hit the twelve week mark, that’s when we’ll take you.”

My head snapped upward, and I stared at her, mystified. “So… you’re just going to let me keep living my life until then? When I could tell literally anyone what you’re up to?” I said. “Are you trying to get caught?”

Dr. Carmichael reached into her black cloak and produced a large needle. “Don’t fret,” she said. “This is perfectly safe for the baby.”

My eyes bulged. “What the hell is that?”

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