1

624words2026-01-26 09:08

My brother Jack found a fox in the graveyard that night.
I warned him foxes were too wild to tame and begged him to leave it. That fox remembered and held a grudge against me.
When no one was watching, it crept into the hospital and tore out my newborn son’s throat. It devoured him while I lay unconscious after childbirth.

My husband Mark, shattered with rage, swore to kill the beast. But my brother and his wife Emily shielded it.
"It’s just a dumb animal," they argued. "What does it know?"
The fox escaped and returned with a bear. On the day of my son’s funeral, it led the bear straight to us. The creatures slaughtered everyone—our entire family.
As its teeth ripped into my belly, agony stretching two eternal hours before death, I saw Mark frozen beside me, his hand forever reaching out to push me to safety.
Too late. Always too late.
I died drowning in regret.

...
Then came the rain. Cold drops woke me. I blinked, disoriented. Pale moonlight fell on the same nameless grave. Ahead, Jack crouched, lifting a grotesquely emaciated fox.
Its patchy, reddish fur was dull and falling out in clumps, revealing raw skin beneath. I instinctively clutched my swollen belly, stumbling back.
The fox’s muzzle lifted. Its needle-sharp teeth gleamed yellow in the dark.

This was it. The beginning. Again.
...
My sister-in-law Emily wrinkled her nose. "Jack, no. Look at it—filthy! And Claire’s pregnant. That thing’s crawling with disease!"
The fox’s gaze snapped to me, eyes like obsidian shards. Remembering. Judging. My throat tightened. Last time, my protest had painted a target on my back. This time…
I forced a smile, my voice unnaturally light.
"Oh, Emily, don’t worry! Poor little thing’s half-starved. It’s… kind of cute in a scruffy way." I avoided looking directly at the fox. "We’re in separate cars anyway. It won’t touch me or the baby."
Emily stared, incredulous. "Since when did you like wild animals? Especially fleabags that reek like death?"
"It’s just fur and mud," I lied smoothly, rain plastering strands of hair to my face. "Probably harmless allergies. Come on, it’s pouring. Let’s just get it home."
Emily’s mouth thinned. "Fine. But Tom’s asleep in our car. If you feel sorry for it? You take it."
A flicker of calculation in her eyes. She was using me. Before I could respond, Jack shouldered past.
"Enough arguing!" He scooped the creature up carelessly, its limbs dangling. "I’m keeping it. End of story." He marched towards his SUV, ignoring the fox’s weak, rasping snarl.
Emily, lips pressed tight in resentment, followed, yanking open the back hatch. With brutal indifference, she grabbed the fox by its scruff and hurled it into the trunk. It hit the metal floor with a sickening thud, whimpering.
Jack just slammed the hatch shut, deaf to its cries. He never cared, I realized. Just a whim -- a dying creature momentarily diverting his attention.
Alone in the rain, I placed hands on my belly. A distinct flutter answered—tiny feet pushing against my palm. My son. Alive. Within me. The phantom cries from another life echoed—my infant’s terrified wails silenced too soon.
A lifetime ago,after giving birth,I passed out from exhaustion.
And I’d seen the tragedy later: the fox, sinister as a shadow, darting into my delivery room hidden under a nurse’s cart. Inside, silence... then unimaginable horror. My tiny boy... his delicate neck torn open. He never even opened his eyes.
Now, beneath my hands, he kicked again. A firm, determined push. Flesh and blood and promise. My tears mixed with the downpour.
This life, I swore silently, my palms pressed hard against the life within my womb, I will protect you. At any cost.