Chapter 1The Victim's Vengeance

I slipped the powder into my husband’s dinner.

When his mother caught me, she just scoffed, "That little bit ain't gonna do squat."

Later that night, she took a knife and cut off her own son's manhood herself.

* * *

I was five months pregnant, and this felt like judgment day.

Mama Mae said if I couldn’t give her a grandson this time, she’d pass me around to every man in this hollow. Said maybe once I'd earned back the money they paid for me, they'd sell me off to someone else.

The creaky examination table in the clinic felt like the judge's bench.

"Well, Billy? Is it a boy?" Mama Mae craned her neck, squinting at the ultrasound screen Dr. Evans was holding.

But the way Dr. Evans' brow furrowed and his face fell made my heart sink.

Sure enough, the next second, Mama Mae’s fist slammed into my chest.

"You good-for-nothing tramp! Cost my boy ten thousand dollars, and you can't even pop out a boy!" As she pulled her hand back, she slapped me hard across the face, making my head spin.

God, that hurt, you old hag. I lowered my head, clutching it, and rolled my eyes so hard they nearly stuck. If I’m a tramp, what does that make you, practically crawling into bed with your own son every night, you dried-up old prune?

"It is a boy!" Dr. Evans stepped in quickly, seeing the raw patch where she’d yanked my hair earlier. He even took a shove from Mama Mae meant for me.

"It’s a boy, see? This little bump right here, that’s the little fella," Dr. Evans explained, pointing carefully on the screen, even circling the spot with a pen so she’d understand.

"It’s a buck! A buck!" Mama Mae, nearly seventy, flushed red and practically jumped for joy. But just as quickly, she calmed down, shot me a look full of hate, like she’d just remembered something unpleasant.

I ignored her glare, scrambling off the table to see for myself. Relief washed over me.

Only then did I dare sneak a glance at the old woman standing by the table, one hand on her hip, the other patting her own flat stomach.

Sixty-something years old, hasn't had a period in God knows how long, and still dreaming of having her own son! I scoffed silently.

"Abby, your scalp is bleeding pretty bad. Let me give you something for it," Dr. Evans said. He sat on a worn wooden stool in his white coat, his long fingers and the pen gleaming in the sunlight.

After writing something down, he pulled a small paper packet from a cabinet and pressed it into my hand.

Two packets, I thought, feeling the rough paper. I tried to subtly slide one up my sleeve.

But Mama Mae snatched the packet right out of my hand and tried to shove it back at Dr. Evans. While doing it, she poked me hard, her fingernails caked with dirt digging right into my injured scalp. It felt like she wouldn't stop until she drew blood again.

"Don't need it, don't need it! She’s tough as nails, a little scratch like this? Ain't worth using medicine on! It'll heal on its own!"

I'll kill you someday, you miserable old witch! I kept my head down, wincing but not daring to make a sound, pretending to be meek and agreeing. My mind, though, was racing with ways to get rid of her.

Luckily, Mama Mae was too busy arguing with Dr. Evans to notice my expression. They went back and forth all the way to the clinic door.

Until Dr. Evans finally said, "It’s on the house."

"Well, thank you kindly then, Billy," Mama Mae instantly stopped arguing, a folksy smile spreading across her face as she let Dr. Evans put the packet back in her hand.

It was mortifying.

As we left, we thanked Dr. Evans again and again, bowing and scraping like he just handed her the winning lottery ticket.

By the time we walked from the clinic back to our cabin, word had spread like wildfire through Hollow Creek. Everyone knew Cletus, the man whose wife couldn't seem to produce an heir, was finally getting a son. Big news! Cause for celebration, maybe crack open some moonshine.