(Warning- is very sad, may be traumatic)

The gravel crunched underfoot as she hobbled up to the manor house, listening to the far away noise of waves smashing against the cliff. Although she was the lady of the manor, she was not permitted a key to the door, so she banged the knocker thrice, smoothing her honey-coloured hair and hoping, hoping that everything would be all right. It was only a few seconds before the mahogany front door burst open and she forced herself to beam at the man who appeared.

He had spiky dark hair, and wore a pinstriped suit that cleverly hid his growing potbelly. His eyes glittered with malice and greed. He grinned; her oh-so-brilliant, power-hungry, cruel, violent devil of a husband. “How was the doctors? Did they tell you the gender of the kid?”

She took a deep breath and followed him into their lavish sitting room. The walls were decorated with beautiful original artwork that she adored, and the sofas were plush and sophisticated. A glass vase of wilting lilies stood by the open window and she could smell the fragrant scent of the rose bush outside. But living among this beauty came at a price, and if she was honest with herself she’d rather live in a shack alone than here with him. “Yes, they told me,” she said anxiously, carefully watching him for signs of anger and violence.

“And?”

She knew how much he wanted a boy to carry his name on. She knew exactly what a disgrace a girl would bring to his family. What she didn’t know, was how he’d react. But she could hardly keep it from him, she reasoned- he’d find out either way.

“It’s.....it’s a girl,” she heard herself get out.

The gleam in his eye went dull. “A girl,” he said, in a hoarse whisper. Then the dullness was replaced by a dark fire, burning with torrents of rage. He let out a guttural scream.

“You would dare bring me a girl?!! You stupid, irresponsible, useless, piece of-!” He leapt to his feet, darting towards where I was sitting on the cream coloured couch, and began attacking me, punching and kicking my stomach. He didn’t care that I was delicate. He didn’t care.

I shrieked with pain and anguish. He ignored me and kept going. It didn’t take a genius to realise what he was doing; he had no use for a female child. Best to get rid of it.

He was at it for hours, I had never known such pain. Red stains blossomed on the cream sofa. Then he gave me one last punch and stormed out of the room.

It took three days for her to pass, and I sobbed for the whole time. When her not-fully-formed body was finally free, I buried her under the rose bush, tears still pouring down my face. She was my own, beautiful Rose.

All I wanted was my baby back.