The Cage Beneath the Dinner Table

The first thing I heard after my water broke was laughter.

Not a scream.

Not footsteps rushing down the stairs.

Laughter.

Someone upstairs was telling a joke.

A fork scraped against a plate. Glasses clinked. Marcus’s mother laughed louder than everyone else.

And I was lying on the cold metal floor of a dog cage in our basement, nine months pregnant and bleeding.