Page 44 of Pas de Trois
“Yes,” he nods, “I understand. But I am…limited.” He gives a sympathetic smile.
I understand what he means by limited, and though it makes me feel indignant, I can’t fault him for those limitations. What I know for now is enough—the baby growing inside me is healthy and strong.
And apparently, a dancer.
He finishes his exam and starts talking to me about nutrition and exercise during the pregnancy, but I don’t hear a word of it. The image of my baby dancing keeps swirling through my thoughts and the feeling it gives me is indescribably perfect.
A perfect image to chase away all the bad ones.
But even that perfect image can’t keep them away forever because I know there’s so much bad yet to come.
I’m not safe.
Ezra’s not safe.
Our baby is not safe.
Even if they kill us and keep him, he will never be safe with them. This is not the life I want for my baby.
I’ll lay down my own to make him free.
