Taken | h.s + bey ✔️

21. 7 and a Half Months Pregnant

After sitting in the tub for so long my fingers pruned, I stepped out and wrapped myself up in a white towel.

I pulled on the pajama shorts and tank top I had on when I got here. It feels good to be out of those peasant dresses and into my own clothes. Clothes that belonged to Kim and not Rose. I pulled my now straightened hair out of the loose ponytail and brushed it with one of Rose's brushes.

After seeing that shadow yesterday, I thought about Rose a lot. Not living Rose, but dead Rose and how every time I saw her — or thought I saw her — she looked scared for me. She looked like she wanted to tell me or warn me about something.

This is going to sound crazy, but I do want to hear what she has to say. It could very likely be vital. There's a lot of grey areas and missing pieces from those journals.

I walked back into the room and stood in front of the closed bathroom door. I thought about how I could manage to... call her?

I nervously stepped around the bed and sat on the edge that faced the majority of the room. I took a deep breath and looked around as I started to speak, "Uh— Rose?"

I don't know what I thought was going to come with that but nothing did. "This is Kim," I whispered nervously, "I know... this isn't really black people activity, but I want to talk to you kind of. Or 'communicate'. That's what they say on those fake supernatural investigation programs on TV..." I sat completely still.

I cleared my throat, "Um... I think you already know that I'm trapped here by your.... uh— unique... boy. It'd be really nice of you if you helped me out somehow. Get me out of here maybe? Or help me figure out how to. Or... make one of your journals magically flip open to a spec—," I stopped my rambling when I heard the floorboard creek in the room.

I froze and took very quiet, steady breaths, "I-is that you?" I whispered. As if it was meant to be a response, the floorboard creaked again. It wasn't just a sound either. I could see that the wood plank in the floor, right in front of the armoire had moved a little as if someone stepped on it.

I got up and strolled over to it and opened the armoire doors. I waited for another sign but didn't get one. I picked up the journal that I was currently on and stood back up. There had been a picture of Rose smiling that got caught in between the pages of the journal. Instead of pulling it out I opened the journal to where it was stuck.

I held the page open and closed the armoire doors. It took everything in me to not even look at the black box.

I went back to the bed and laid across it. I began to read.

      This month has been very traumatic for everyone in this house. The pivotal moment that steered us into this depressing era happened two Fridays ago. I was in the library, picking out a new book to read. Harry had been acting a little strangely all morning. He's been constantly fighting for his mother's attention. This had been sporadically happening ever since she announced she was pregnant. Harry was not happy. He cried and wanted to know why they felt they needed another child. He went on about how he didn't want them to be loving to the new baby more than they were with him and how he didn't want to share a number of things— one of those things being me.
         I could hear him at the top of the stairs, just outside of his room. I kept hearing him beg his mother to look at what he was doing and all the pictures he drew. I could hear her very softly telling him to calm down and that she was very tired at the moment, which was likely to be true since she was 7 and a half months pregnant. I tried to tune them out so I could focus on my browsing but then Mrs. Thibodeaux called for me. I heard her voice more clearly as she approached the steps but I couldn't make out what she was asking me to do for her. As I exited the library to go see what she wanted, I heard a grunt, a gasp and a series of loud banging. I already knew that something or someone had fallen down those stairs. I rushed to the staircase to see Mrs. Thibodeaux lying at the bottom of them. She was not moving and I saw blood. My jaw dropped and I looked at the top of the staircase to see Harry standing at the very top of them, eyes wide.
         I shouted at him, "What did you do?!" Mr. Thibodeaux had come and saw his wife on the floor, unconscious. He immediately went to her side and tried to wake her. Harry just stood at the top of the stairs shouting, "I didn't! It was an accident! I wasn't trying to!"

         I'll never forget the look on Mr and Mrs Thibodeaux's faces when they were informed by the doctor that the baby girl had died. We all cried, except for Harry. He had been out of it the entire time. His change of demeanor— from the moment I saw him standing at the top of the stairs— gave me chills. He seemed completely unaffected by it all except for when he felt people were putting the blame on him. None of us know what really happened. Mrs. Thibodeaux remembers none of it and Harry just says "it was an accident." For the sake of keeping this situation from becoming more disturbing than it already is, I'm just going to have to believe that.

- Rose Broussard

If this book like gets enough reads/attention or if enough people say they want one I wanna do a Q&A with like the characters. But I don't wanna like attempt to do that and then like 1 person asks a question lmao.