Molly’s Regret: From the Fright Vault – A Short Horror Story

Molly stared down at the test between her fingers. She managed to get a little pee on her hand, but her focus remained on the twin pink lines. She wondered if she should take another, but her gut told her she’d be wasting her time. Her period was late, which meant her life was now over. 

Molly did the one thing she wishes she could take back.

“Who is he?” her mother demanded in the waiting room of the clinic. Molly kept her eyes trained on the magazine in her lap. The words swam together through the haze of fresh tears. One of the drops hit the page with a flat plop. “He’s nobody,” said Molly.

Of course she’d called him. When he answered, he acted like Molly was a stranger. A telemarketer. A bill collector worth hanging up on. She should have known better. His creepy smile. The way his eyebrows formed an upside-down V when he smiled. All her friends said Jeremy gave them the creeps. Molly thought he was cute, but that was probably the tequila talking.

The day before her mom took her to the clinic, Molly received a call from Jeremy. He wanted her to keep the baby. She said nothing. Merely kept her mouth shut. She’d already made up her mind, despite her mother saying Jesus would turn his back on her if she killed the baby growing inside of her. Jeremy said he wanted to raise the baby, that the kid would be special, like him. This time it was Molly’s turn to hang up. She’d had enough of creepy Jeremy to last a lifetime.

At home from the clinic, Molly devolved into a sobbing mess. She cried into the soft comfort of her pillow until sleep took hold. She awoke suddenly to a tugging of the bedsheet. Thinking it was Sandy, the family dog, Molly reached over to receive comfort from her lifelong best friend. Her hand touched something wet and slimy. She jerked her hand back and peered over the bed’s edge, but there was nothing there.

Her mother brought her cookies and milk, a tender moment complete with a stink-eyed stare. Molly ate the cookies, and ignored her mother’s indignation. The milk made her sleepy, and she allowed herself to snooze. 

In the middle of the night, she awoke to movement beside her. Suspecting Sandy jumped up in bed, Molly reached out a hand and touched what felt like sludge. She rose up on her side and dared another feel in the dark. A smooth round head, a tiny nose, lips. Molly screamed and jumped out of bed. She turned on the light to find a baby writhing in the folds of the sheets and blanket. Black goo seeped from its blue-lipped mouth. Its blue eyes bulged like that of someone drowned and left in the water too long. Molly clamped a hand over her eyes and slowly opened her fingers to peer through. The baby was gone.

Her mother tried everything. She cooked Molly’s favorite meals. Let her watch the raciest shows. Bought her favorite sweet treats, but nothing seemed to work. At the drop of a hat, Molly would scream and fall to her knees. She’d hold her hands out before her and cry about the umbilical cord still attached. At the baby that follows her around everywhere she goes. Its blue eyes staring, and black goo seeping from its bloodless lips. It could take minutes or hours for her to calm down, at which time she usually whispered, “The baby is sleeping.” 

Finally, Molly’s mother had enough. She wheeled the only family she had left into the room and watched the orderlies lift her and put her in bed. The drugs they said would help her sleep. They’d also take care of the hallucinations, but these people didn’t know Molly. The moment the orderlies lay her down, Molly shot up to a seated position. “Get away from him,” she shouted and shoved the male nurses back. They could only watch, helpless, as Molly lifted her shirt, cradled the invisible baby to her bare chest, and began to sing a lullaby. Her mother and the men gaped at the skin around her nipple, which pulsed the way a suckling baby feeds. 

***

From the Fright Vault

This story is part of my personal horror collection — dark tales that run deeper than a 60-second scare.

Soon, you’ll be able to access exclusive stories like this, behind-the-scenes notes, and early drafts through my upcoming Patreon.

Keep watching this space to learn more.

Until then, thanks for reading — and don’t turn off the lights just yet.