Page 4 of Claimed By Ruin

Asia

“Is it true?”

I was at the fence, checking for holes. Always checking for holes.

I knew this fence better than I knew my own body. Knew every patch that was rusted, where the wire started to fray.

Knew that the fence was not protection against what could hurt me, but I tended to it anyway.

Energetic steps sounded behind me, and I smiled. I knew those steps well and had been expecting them. The strides were confident, eager in a way I wasn’t sure mine ever had been. My face turned up in a smile automatically, but I didn’t look at Miles. I shook my head. “Guess we can’t keep secrets around here.” My voice was light, playful, while my mood was anything but.

“So it’s true!” At his exuberant outburst, I finally looked at him, the smile on my face this time genuine.

“Yes, Miles. Jack is back.”

The boy returned my smile, the little fuzz above his upper lip catching the early morning sun. “That’s the best news since…” He trailed off and shook his head. “I was gonna say since you found that stash of gummy bears at that grocery store, but this is way better than that.”

I turned back to the fence. “Glad to hear you’re happy, Miles.”

He moved into my periphery, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he cracked his knuckles despite Lourdes scolding him every time he did. “You need help with that?”

I chuckled. “What? Make you help me rather than run off to find Jack? I wouldn’t dream of it!”

“Thanks, Ms. Newman. I’ll finish my chores and then go find him,” he said.

I patted his thin shoulder and smiled as I watched him run off towards the barn, weaving through the obstacles we’d built.

Despite everything, Miles was still a good kid.

A good person.

I could only hope my son⁠—

I shook my head, squeezing the wire cutters tight in my grip, the red plastic handles simultaneously gummy and cracked. On instinct, my gaze drifted towards the house, towards where he was.

My home, the siding weathered but resilient, the swing on the porch shifting in the wind like this was an ordinary day, and all I could think of was him.

I hated that, seeking him still, even after everything.

It didn’t matter.

This baby was mine.

I would do whatever it took to protect him. Jack, his presence—his absence—didn’t change that. I stood up straighter and turned more fully to the fence.

Still, as I moved, the motions methodical by now and no longer requiring thought, I couldn’t help but remember that day.

The one where I’d finally realized that it wasn’t grief and disgust that had me sick. With the combination of things, the absolute exhaustion, the inexplicable craving for lasagna, the realization that the limited supply of feminine hygiene products was holding up remarkably well.

A compelling picture of the undeniable reality.

I didn’t have an obstetrician. Didn’t even have one of those dollar store pregnancy tests. But I knew. And even then, I was unable to stop myself from thinking of Jack.

Jack.

Even now, after what he had done, the very thought of his name set off a flare of heat in my chest.

Made me hate myself all the more for it.