Your Hate, My Farewell

Until that day, when the new starlet he was promoting “accidentally” severed my safety wire on set. I plummeted from a ten-foot platform. The three-month-old life within me stilled. My hand trembling, I dialed his number.

“Andrew, please, save our baby.”

From the other end, a woman’s soft moans reached me, followed by Andrew’s voice, a languid drawl of satisfaction.

“Evie, I’m utterly sick of your pathetic ploys for attention. If you truly want to die, do it far away from me.”