Mommy Baddest - Episode 6
by Jo Watson
15 years ago.
Sue sits on the bathroom floor in nothing but her flimsy dressing gown.
The cold, hard tiles send a chill through her, but she doesn’t care.
Five sticks stare back at her all saying the same thing…
Negative. Negative. Negative. Negative. Negative!
She screams and throws the sticks against the wall.
They hit it like bullets, and then bounce back down to the floor.
One by one, by one, by one, by one, one by FUCKING one!
Her phone buzzes and she picks it up.
How are you feeling today, babe?
Fine.
I know you’re not fine, honey.
And it’s okay not to be fine, but what happened on Wednesday…
I’m sorry. I lost it.
It won’t happen again.
I don’t mind if it does. I’m just worried about you.
You’re getting more depressed every day.
What about seeing a psychiatrist?
One of my colleagues recommended a good one.
You spoke to people at work about this?
It’s nothing to be ashamed of.
And they’re all doctors anyway.
Nothing to be ashamed off????
I’m barren!
Don’t say that.
I can’t give you children.
Do you know how that feels?
I’m broken. I’m not a real woman.
There’s nothing broken about you.
I have a hostile womb. How is that not broken?
We’ll adopt children.
I don’t want to adopt. I can’t.
I’ve always wanted to see some of myself in my own child.
We’ll do more IVF then.
We’ve already done nine rounds.
And you heard what the doctor said on Tuesday.
I know.
You’re a doctor, Ed. A man of science…
You know there’s no such thing as a miracle.
And we’d need a miracle at this point.
Honey, I love you.
I don’t care if we can’t have children.
WELL, I DO!
This is all I’ve ever wanted.
I don’t know if I can live without having a child.
I’m so sorry.
Me, too.
All I want to do is look into the face of my child and see myself reflected back at me.
Is that too much to ask?
What have I done to deserve this?
You’ve done nothing wrong.
Really?
Maybe my entire family is just cursed, then.
How?
My life has been such a disaster.
My parents dying like they did…
My insane sister.
What has your sister got to do with this?
No one even knows where she is.
I don’t know!
I don’t know what I’m saying anymore.
I’m confused. I don’t know. Don’t listen to me.
How many anxiety pills have you taken today?
I’m NOT abusing them.
People get addicted to those things all the time.
I’ve seen it many times before.
Look baby, I have to go. I’m sorry, but I have surgery now.
Can I call someone to come over and be with you?
I don’t need a babysitter, Ed.
I need a baby.
I’m going to bring those adoption papers home tonight.
I DON’T WANT TO ADOPT.
You don’t understand.
I grew up without parents. A crazy twin sister who’s God knows where.
I NEED to see myself in my child.
I get it. I really do.
I just don’t know how to solve it.
You can’t solve it.
No one can.
2 months later
Sue sits on the cold, hard bathroom floor again.
It’s winter. Icy. Dark.
She’s lined the pregnancy sticks up like dominoes.
They snake their way around the bathroom floor.
She taps one and it falls…
The next one falls, and the next, and the next one.
A tiny smile tugs at her mouth as she watches them all fall down.
It’s a game she plays with herself when Ed’s at work.
And he’s always at work.
She collects the sticks and is just about to lay them out again when the doorbell rings…
An hour later, Sue texts Ed.
You won’t believe who’s here!
Who?
Greta.
Your twin??
I haven’t seen her in seven years. SEVEN!
What does she want?
Where has she been?
It’s hard to say. I can’t get a coherent sentence out of her.
She’s completely manic.
Are you okay? Is she dangerous?
Honestly, you never know with her.
But guess what???
What?
She’s pregnant!
Poor child!
Exactly! She’s the last person on earth who should become a mother.
Who’s the father?
She says she doesn’t know.
And guess what else? She doesn’t want to keep the baby!!!!
She doesn’t want it.
Ed, I know this is a bit crazy, but what would you say if we offered to adopt her baby?
Wait. What? Slow down.
She’s my identical twin sister. Do you get it?
I’d have what I’ve always wanted. Something of myself in my child.
Hang on. Slow down.
This is crazy.
Don’t you see? This is the miracle that was never going to happen for us.
I thought you didn’t believe in miracles.
I do now.
But she wants to have an abortion. We need to talk her out of it.
I don’t know.
This is what I want, Ed.
What I need!
I don’t think I can live another day knowing I’ll never have a baby…
3 months later
Sue frantically pushes Greta into the bathroom and locks the door behind her.
It’s the only room in the house Greta can’t escape from, because the window is too small.
Outside the bathroom door, Sue is out of breath.
She slumps down against the door and inspects her arm.
Lines of broken flesh stare back at her.
Blood is pooling on her pale white skin from Greta’s nails.
She wraps a bandage around her arm to stop the bleeding and pulls out her phone.
She texts Ed, who is at work.
Hurry home.
She needs another tranquilizer.
We can’t keep doing this. It’s going to hurt the baby.
She’s out of control again.
I wonder what went wrong. She’s been fine for months.
That’s how she is. One minute she’s fine, the next she’s not.
Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this.
Let her have an abortion. She’s so unwell!
WHAT?
I can’t believe you just said that!!!!
If she carries on like this, the baby will die anyway.
Ed, I am doing this. With or without you.
And I bought baby clothes yesterday. They’re so small and cute.
But look what keeps happening! We can’t all live like this.
You can’t take this away from me.
Please don’t take this away from us.
Okay. Okay. I won’t.
This is OUR baby.
You’re right. I’ll be home soon.
Try and keep her calm in the meantime.
1 month later
GRETA’S GOT A KNIFE!
She says she’ll cut the baby out.
I’m coming!!!
Stay away from her.
I can’t.
She’s holding the knife up to her stomach.
She’s going to kill our baby, Ed.
I’m coming. Try keep her calm.
See if you can give her a pill???
Okay. Okay. Hurry. Please.
There’s blood everywhere.
She cut herself. I tried to take the knife away but I’m bleeding.
Oh, my God. Are you okay?
I’m fine.
And Greta?
Ed, I’ve done something.
Something bad. Something I can’t take back.
What?
God help me.
What is it?
You have to see for yourself.
What do you mean?
Oh God, Ed. I’m in so much trouble.
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