Do you actually believe me? The question was so small, so fragile, like she was bracing herself for me to say no. Of course, I believe you. Because no one ever does. I’ve tried telling people before, and they always, “I believe you,” I said again, firmer this time. Every word. Zach moved from the chair to sit on Jordan’s other side.
She flinched at first, but didn’t pull away. I believe you too, he said quietly. And I know what she’s capable of. She hurt me today. What she did to me. He paused, his jaw tightening. You’re not alone in this. Not anymore. Jordan looked at him with something like recognition, like she finally had someone who understood.
She used to tell me things when I was little, Jordan continued, her voice steadier now. Things I believed because she was my mom and I didn’t know any better. Like what? Zach asked. Jordan was quiet for a moment. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. She tried again. That I was supposed to be a boy.
I ruined her life by being born wrong. She convinced me that my dad died because he was so disappointed in me. He didn’t want to live anymore. Jordan. I grabbed her hand. That’s not true. None of that is true. I know now. She squeezed my hand back. But when you’re 6 years old and your mom tells you your dad called himself because of you, you believe it.
You believe it for a long time. Her voice cracked on the last word and she had to stop. She pressed her hands against her eyes and took a shaky breath. “Take your time,” I said softly. “You don’t have to tell us everything tonight.” “No, I want to. I need to.” She dropped her hands and looked at me with wet eyes. “I’ve been holding this in for so long.
I just need someone to finally know.” The room went quiet. Zach reached over and put his hand on Jordan’s shoulder. She looked surprised, but she didn’t pull away. “You can let it all out,” Zach softly said. “Cry, scream, talk to your heart’s content. We’re here for you.” “For once,” Jordan felt comforted, so she continued. “There was this one time.
I was nine. I’d saved up my allowance and bought a dress from a thrift store, yellow with little flowers on it. I hid it in the back of my closet and only wore it when she wasn’t home.” She paused. She found it. dragged me into the living room and made me watch while she cut it into pieces with scissors. She said if she ever caught me wearing girl clothes again, she’d make sure I regretted it.
Jordan’s hands balled into fists. I was nine. What kind of person does that to a 9-year-old over a dress? I could end her, I said. The words came out before I could stop them. I’m sorry. I know she’s your mom, but I could actually end her for doing that to you. Jordan stared at me. I don’t think anyone had ever been angry on her behalf before.
Zach put his hand on her shoulder. And when I was 10, I painted my nails, just clear polish. You could barely even see it. Jordan’s voice was shaking now, but it wasn’t sadness anymore. It was anger. She locked me outside in November. All night. I was in my pajamas and I thought I was going to die. And the next morning, she let me back in and acted like nothing happened.
As if I really deserve to be punished like that. She stood up suddenly and started pacing. 14 years. 14 years of this and everyone just looked the other way. Teachers, grandma and grandpa, everyone. She was shaking with rage now. I spent my whole life thinking I just had to survive until I could leave. But you know what? I’m done being quiet.
She’s always been the problem, and everyone just let her get away with it. I wiped my eyes. I hadn’t even realized I was crying. I stood up and pulled her into a hug. She resisted for a second, still vibrating with anger, then collapsed into me. We stood there for a long moment. I could feel her shaking against me.
All that rage slowly draining out of her until there was nothing left but exhaustion. You’re not going to send me back, are you? Her voice was muffled against my shoulder, small, scared. Never. Promise? I promise you’re staying here with us for as long as you want. She held on tighter. There’s something else, Jordan said into my shoulder.
Something you need to know about your baby. I pulled back. What about him? When you announced you were having a boy, she went quiet. You probably noticed. Everyone else was celebrating, but she just sat there staring at you. I nodded. I remembered. That night, she came into my room. She wasn’t angry. That was the scary part.
She was always angry. But this time, she was calm, almost happy. Jordan’s jaw tightened. She said, “That’s my second chance. That baby is going to fix everything.” What does that mean? Zach jolted up at that. She’s been planning this for months. She has a nursery set up in the spare room. Blue walls, a crib, clothes, toys, everything. Jordan looked between us.
She has a name picked out. She talks about him like he’s already hers. I felt cold all over. She’s not going to stop, Jordan said. She’s never going to stop. She’s been waiting her whole life for a boy and now she thinks she’s finally going to get one. She doesn’t care what she has to do.
I thought about Carly on top of my husband. I thought about Jordan’s bruise, the years of abuse, the nursery waiting for my son. She’s not getting him, I said. She’s not getting you either. Jordan looked at me. Her eyes were red and swollen. She looked exhausted, rung out like she’d just run a marathon. She always wins, Jordan declared. Not this time.
I shook my head. Jordan didn’t say anything. She just leaned into me and closed her eyes. Zach came over and put his arms around both of us. We stood there in the quiet, the three of us holding each other up. For the first time in her life, Jordan wasn’t alone. And neither were we. Jordan stayed over and slept in our guest room.
I sat on the bed next to Zach, wondering how we were going to keep our baby safe from my crazy sister. He was coming any day now. But I’m not scared of her anymore. I’m angry. angry for Jordan, for Zach, for myself. Let me tell you what happened just days after I gave birth. You’re not going to believe this. Finally, my baby boy was born.
He was healthy and perfect. I held him in my arms and for a moment, I forgot about everything else. I just looked at my son and felt something I’d never felt before. Like I would do anything to protect him. Anything. We came home from the hospital 2 days after that. Jordan was still staying with us.
She helped with the baby while Zach and I tried to figure out how to function on no sleep. Those first few days were a blur of feedings and diaper changes and exhaustion so deep it felt like drowning. And on top of that, I was on guard all the time. I kept waiting for Carly to show up, to call, to do something. But there was nothing. No contact from her.
No contact from my parents. Just silence. Part of me wanted to believe it was over, that she’d finally given up. But Jordan’s words kept echoing in my head. She’s not going to stop. She’s never going to stop. She’s been waiting her whole life for a boy. By the fifth night home, I was so tired, I could barely see straight.
Zach was the same. Even Jordan looked exhausted from helping us around the clock. That night, we all went to bed early. My baby was in his nursery down the hall. I had the monitor on my nightstand, volume all the way up. I remember thinking I should stay awake. I should watch. But my body wouldn’t cooperate.
I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. I don’t know how long I was out before Jordan was shaking me awake. Enid. Her voice was urgent, scared. “Enid, wake up.” I opened my eyes and the room was dark. Jordan was standing over me, her face pale. “What’s wrong?” I asked, still half asleep. “I heard something.
” “A door? I think someone’s in the house.” Zach was already sitting up beside me. “What?” I heard the front door, Jordan said. “I’m sure of it.” We all went quiet, listening, and then we heard it, the baby crying, then stopping. Then the sound of footsteps moving fast. Then the front door closing. I was out of bed before I knew I was moving.
I ran down the hall to the nursery and threw open the door. The crib was empty. My son was gone. For a second, I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I just stood there staring at the empty space where my baby was supposed to be. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. Then Zach was rushing past me, running for the front door. Call 911.
He yelled over his shoulder. I tried to follow, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. I’d given birth 5 days ago. Everything still hurt. I was slow and clumsy and by the time I got to the hallway, Jordan was there grabbing my arm, helping me move. “Give me your phone,” I said. She handed it over and I dialed 911 as we moved toward the front door.
“911, what’s your emergency?” My sister took my baby. My voice was shaking so bad I could barely get the words out. She broke into my house and took my baby. She’s in front of my house right now. Please hurry. I gave them the address and hung up. We made it outside and I saw them. Carly was halfway down the driveway, my son in her arms.
She was moving fast, almost running, clutching him against her chest, and she was talking to him. I could hear his crying and her voice carrying in the night air. It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s here. Mommy’s got you now. Everything’s going to be okay. We’re going home. Something inside me snapped. That was my son. She was calling herself his mother. Zach caught up to her first.
He grabbed her arm and spun her around. Give me my son. Carly’s face was wild. Her eyes were huge and darting everywhere. And she looked like she hadn’t slept in days. He’s not yours, she said. He was never yours. He’s mine. He’s always been mine. Give him to me right now. No. She pulled away from him, clutching the baby tighter.
He started screaming. This high-pitched whale that cut through the night. You don’t understand. None of you understand. I’ve been waiting my whole life for him. He’s my second chance. He’s going to fix everything. Zach grabbed her arm again, harder this time. Let go of my son. He’s not your son.
Carly tried to twist away, but Zach held on. They were struggling now. Both of them pulling, the baby screaming between them, both trying to be so careful to not hurt him. I finally reached them. Jordan was right behind me, still holding my arm, keeping me upright. Every step hurt, but I didn’t care. I would crawl if I had to. Carly, stop. I screamed. Give him back.
Carly looked at me, and something in her face shifted. The desperation melted into pure hatred. You, she spat. You don’t deserve him. You never wanted him. You can’t take care of him like I can. I’ve been preparing for him. I have a nursery. I have a name. I have everything ready. And you think you can just keep him from me? I won’t let you.
He’s my son. He’s my second chance. She was screaming now, spit flying from her mouth. Do you know what it’s been like? 14 years of looking at her. She jerked her head toward Jordan and being reminded every single day of what I didn’t get. 14 years of watching everyone else have what I deserved. And then you, my own sister, you get pregnant by accident and it’s a boy and you don’t even appreciate it.
I lunged for her. I didn’t think about it. I just moved. I grabbed at the baby, trying to pull him from her arms. She held on tight, yanking him back, and for a horrible moment, we were both pulling on him. My son screaming between us. Let go. Carly shrieked. He’s mine. Jordan jumped in. She grabbed Carly’s arm and tried to pry it off the baby.
Let him go. This is crazy. Just let him go. Carly’s head snapped toward Jordan and her face twisted into something ugly. She let go of me with one hand and slapped Jordan across the face hard. The sound cracked through the air. You Carly hissed. This is all your fault. If you had just been what I needed, if you had just been a boy.
14 years of disappointment. 14 years of looking at you and feeling sick. And now you’re trying to take this from me, too. Jordan didn’t back down. She grabbed Carly’s arm again, harder this time. I’m not letting you do this. Get off me. Carly tried to shake her loose, but Jordan held on. And in that moment of distraction, Zach moved.
He wrapped both arms around the baby and pulled. Carly screamed as the baby was ripped from her grip. Zach stumbled backward, clutching our son against his chest, and then he was handing him to me, pressing him into my arms. I was holding my baby. I was holding him. He was safe. He was here. He was mine.
Carly lunged for us, but Zach stepped in front, blocking her path. She tried to get around him, clawing at the air, screaming things that didn’t even make sense anymore. He’s mine. You can’t do this. He’s supposed to fix everything. Give him back. Sirens in the distance, getting closer. Carly heard them, too. For a second, something like panic flashed across her face.
Then it was gone, replaced by that cold certainty I’d seen before. “This isn’t over,” she said. “I’ll get him back. I’ll find a way. You can’t watch him forever. You can’t. The police cars pulled up, lights flashing red and blue across the front yard. Two officers got out and started toward us. Carly saw them first.
She straightened up, wiped her face, and something shifted in her expression. The crazy melted away, and suddenly, she looked like a scared, concerned mother. Officers, thank God you’re here. She pointed at me. That’s her. She broke into my house and she’s trying to take my baby. I was shocked and offended all at once.
What? She’s been threatening me for months, Carly continued, her voice shaking with fake tears. She’s obsessed with my son. She thinks he belongs to her. I don’t know what’s wrong with her, but please, please help me get my baby back. The officers looked at her, then at me. I was standing there in my pajamas, hair a mess, still bleeding from giving birth 5 days ago, holding a screaming newborn.
That’s not true, I said. She’s lying. This is my baby. She broke into my house. She’s delusional, Carly said. Ask anyone. She’s been stalking me. She’s been harassing me. My whole family can tell you. The worst part about that was that our parents would somehow find a way to prove her right and my life would be ruined forever.
One of the officers held up his hand. Okay, everyone, calm down. Ma’am, he looked at Carly. You’re saying this is your child? Yes. His name is Michael. He’s 5 days old. My blood ran cold. She knew how old he was. She’d been watching us. His name is not Michael, I said. His name is Theo. And I gave birth to him. You can check the records.
She’s lying, Carly screamed, the mask slipping for just a second. Why would I lie about my own baby? The officer looked between us. Do either of you have identification? I do, Zach stepped forward. I’m the father. I have my ID and I have pictures from the hospital. My wife gave birth 5 days ago. This woman, he pointed at Carly, is her sister.
She’s been harassing us for months trying to take our baby. That’s not true. Carly was crying now. Real tears or fake ones? I couldn’t tell anymore. He’s not the father. He’s lying. They’re all lying. The other officer was looking at Jordan at the red mark on her face. What happened to you? Jordan’s voice was steady. She hit me.
Just now when I tried to stop her from taking the baby. She’s my daughter, Carly said quickly. She’s troubled. She makes things up. She’s been in therapy for years. You can ask anyone. I’m not making anything up. Jordan’s voice cut through the night. She broke into their house with a key she’s had since before they changed the locks.
She went into the nursery and took the baby out of his crib. I heard her. I woke them up. And when I tried to stop her, she hit me just like she’s been hitting me my whole life. Jordan, stop it. Carly hissed. Tell them the truth. I am telling them the truth. For the first time in 14 years, I’m telling the truth.
The officers exchanged a look. One of them spoke into his radio, confirming our address, asking for backup. The other one turned to Carly. Ma’am, I’m going to need you to step away from the baby. No, you don’t understand. He’s mine. Ma’am, I’ve been waiting my whole life for him. The mask was gone now. Completely gone. Do you know what it’s like to want something so badly and watch everyone else get it? She doesn’t even want him.
She didn’t even cry when she found out she was pregnant. But I would be a good mother. I would be the best mother. He’s supposed to fix everything. She lunged toward me and the officers grabbed her. She fought. She kicked and scratched and screamed, calling me every name she could think of, telling the officers they were making a mistake, that the baby belonged to her, that she’d been waiting her whole life for him, that I stole him, that everyone was lying, that Jordan was a troubled child who made up stories. They had to force her arms
behind her back. Had to put her in handcuffs. She was still screaming when they put her in the back of the police car. Still screaming as they closed the door. I watched the car pull away, lights still flashing, my son pressed against my chest, and I felt him breathing. It was over. Carly was charged with breaking and entering, attempted kidnapping and assault.
The prosecutor added child abuse charges after Jordan testified about everything she’d been through. My parents tried to defend Carly at first, tried to say she was confused, that she needed help, not prison. But when Jordan took the stand and told the court about the head shaving and the yellow dress and the night she spent locked outside in November and every other thing Carly had done to her for 14 years, they went quiet.
They didn’t testify on Carly’s behalf. They didn’t testify at all. Carly was sentenced to 20 years, and I’m finally at peace.
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