Part 2: The Point of No Return
The first kick was a blur of motion. I saw the toe of her heavy combat boot move, and then pain exploded in my lower abdomen.
“Erica!” I screamed, doubling over, clutching my stomach. The shock was as paralyzing as the pain. My own sister. My baby.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Michael roared. He leaped from his chair, shoving Erica backward. She stumbled and fell onto the plush carpet.
Immediately, the room erupted into chaos. But not the kind of chaos any sane person would expect.
My parents didn’t rush to me. They didn’t ask if the baby was okay. They rushed to Erica.
“Erica, sweetie, are you okay?” my mother cooed, dropping to her knees beside the girl who had just assaulted a pregnant woman. “Did he hurt you? Oh my god, David, look at her arm!”
“Sarah, look what you caused!” my father barked at me, his face red with indignation. “You know how sensitive your sister is! There was no need to provoke her!”
“She kicked my pregnant belly!” I shouted, tears of pain and disbelief streaming down my face. I was gasping for air, the room spinning. “She kicked me, Dad! She tried to hurt the baby!”
Erica sat up, tears streaming down her face, but her eyes—locked onto mine over my mother’s shoulder—were cold and dead. There was no remorse in them. Only a chilling satisfaction.
“I told you,” she whispered, her voice laced with venom. “I bet I could make it quiet.”
Then, she lunged.
It happened so fast. While my parents were fussing over her “bruised” arm, Erica scrambled forward on her hands and knees and lashed out with her leg again.
The second kick was brutal. It slammed into my side with sickening force, knocking the wind out of me. I lost my balance. I stumbled backward, my feet tangling in the rug.
The world tilted sideways. I saw the ceiling fan spinning. I saw Michael’s terrified face reaching for me.
