My grandma was dead set on having a grandson, so she started forcing Momma to eat this special stew. Said it was some old mountain recipe guaranteed to work. But right around then, little boys started disappearing from the next county over. Finally, Momma got pregnant, but then… then she died out in the pigsty. I thought that was the end of it. But one morning, clear as day, there she was again, standing right in front of me like nothing ever happened. 01 After I was born, Momma never could seem to get pregnant again. Grandma Hazel never gave her a moment's peace. If she wasn't muttering under her breath for Momma to just drop dead, she was beating her so bad Momma couldn't get out of bed for days. "Other folks' wives pop out babies one after another," Grandma'd spit, her voice like gravel. "But you? Nothing stirring' in that belly. A hen that won't lay ain't worth its feed. Might as well be dead." Momma would just keep stirring the pot on the stove, her face blank. She'd heard it all too many times over the years. I'd be tending the fire, trying to make myself small say a word. 'Cause I was a girl. A "mouth to feed with no return," Grandma always said. My being born was the reason Momma couldn't hold her head up in this house. A few days later, Grandma came back acting all pleased with herself, carrying a big pot of steaming stew. Said it was a special recipe from Miss Ida, the old woman down the hollow who knew things. Said this stew would guarantee a boy, and Momma had to eat every last drop. Right then and there. Momma never had much of an appetite, skinny as a rail she was. Just looking at that brimming pot made her face go pale. It was thick and dark, with bits floating in it I couldn’t quite make out. Didn't look good at all. "Don't you be difficult now," Grandma Hazel snapped. "Cost me a pretty penny, this brew from Miss Ida. You will eat it all! Not one bite left!" Grandma grabbed a big ladleful and shoved it towards Momma's mouth. I looked at the stew again. It had a strange, greasy sheen to it, and a smell I didn't like. Kind of coppery. It made my stomach churn just looking at it. Momma tried, she really did, but she couldn't keep it down. She started gagging, then throwing up. Grandma saw it and went red in the face. She grabbed Momma by the hair, forcing her head down. "You pick that up and eat it! Ungrateful!" Momma refused, shaking her head, tears streaming down her face. That just earned her a thrashing from Grandma right there on the kitchen floor. In the end, Momma ate the whole pot, choking it down between sobs. And that's how it went. Every day, Momma had to eat a whole pot of that awful stew. For a while, things seemed calmer in the house, at least. But then word got around about those missing boys from over in Miller's Creek. When Grandma Hazel heard, her eyes just flickered for a second. "Gone is gone," she muttered. "Folks can always make another one, can't they?" 2 Two months later, Momma missed her period. Then she started throwing up in the mornings. Grandma Hazel was beside herself with joy. She doubled the stew – two pots a day now. Momma’s belly swelled up fast. By six months, she was so big and weak she couldn't even get out of bed. Grandma was so sure it was finally a boy, she paid Miss Ida to come up to the house and check. But Miss Ida took one look, maybe felt Momma’s belly, and shook her head. Said it was another girl. Grandma Hazel’s face turned thunderous. She grabbed the old broom from the corner and started whaling on Momma right there in the bed. Momma couldn't even move, just curled up, trying to protect her stomach, taking the blows. I saw blood starting to seep through the back of her thin nightgown. I couldn't stand it. I burst out crying and ran, throwing myself over Momma. "Grandma, stop! Please! You'll hurt Momma and the baby!" "You worthless thing!" Grandma shrieked, turning on me. "Protecting her? I'll beat you both!" "Feedin' you good food every day, treatin' you like gold, and this is what I get? Another useless girl! You little tramp! Who knows if that brat is even Frank's!" She kept yelling, swinging the broom wildly. I tried to shield Momma, feeling the sharp thwacks land on my own back and arms. My dad, Frank, had just been standing there watching, like usual when Grandma went off. But when she yelled that maybe the baby wasn't his, his face changed. It went hard and ugly. He grabbed Miss Ida’s arm. "Miss Ida," he pleaded, his voice low and urgent. "You gotta… you gotta get rid of it. For us." "That's right!" Grandma chimed in, eyes gleaming. "Get that girl outta there! Make room for my grandson!" Hearing that, Momma suddenly went wild. She started screaming, trying to scramble out of bed, clawing towards the door. But Miss Ida was quick. She barked orders at Dad and Grandma, and between the three of them, they overpowered Momma, tying her wrists and ankles to the bedposts with old rope. They haggled over the price for getting rid of the baby right there in the room. Miss Ida leaned in and whispered something in Grandma's ear, making Grandma nod eagerly. Dad kicked me out of the room, slamming the door shut. I could hear Momma’s terrible, desperate screams from inside. I pounded on the door, begging them to stop, to let her go. Grandma’s voice came through the wood, sharp and cruel. "Hush up out there, girl! Ain't your place to talk! After we deal with this… problem… inside your momma, I'm sellin' you off to old man Hemlock down the hollow! Get you off my hands, stop you eatin' our food and sidin' with that tramp!" I just sank to my knees on the rough wooden porch, staring at the closed door, at the angry shadow of my father moving inside. I couldn't make a sound. Then, suddenly, Momma’s screaming stopped. 3 By some miracle, Momma didn't die. But she wasn't right. She just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, eyes wide open but seeing nothing. I'd call her name, touch her hand, but she wouldn't react. After they… got rid of the baby… strange sounds started coming from the room at night. Soft whimpering, sometimes choked little cries. The neighbors knew what was going on. They whispered amongst themselves how the Millers were too hard on Emily, how treating a woman like that wouldn't bring a boy, might even curse the family. When Grandma Hazel heard the gossip, she stormed over to the neighbor’s house and beat the woman who’d been talking. Came back muttering how her grandson was coming soon, just wait and see. Then one day, just like that, Momma seemed… better. She started eating again, sleeping through the night. She even looked healthier, put on a little weight. But her mind was gone. She’d gone crazy. She started carrying around this old, worn-out baby doll, cradling it to her belly, saying it was her baby boy. She'd tape pictures of smiling babies torn from magazines onto her stomach and wander around the property, sometimes drifting down the road. If she saw someone, she'd lift her shirt right up, eager to show them her "son." Folks in the area knew she wasn’t right in the head. Some felt sorry for her, but mostly they just thought it was funny, something to gossip about. They’d tease her sometimes when they saw her. That would scare Momma bad. She'd clutch the doll tighter and run away, like she was afraid they'd frighten her baby. But Grandma Hazel and Dad couldn't stand being laughed at. They locked Momma in the house. She could move around inside, but they wouldn't let her out the door. A crazy woman could still work, after all. Still slop the hogs, scrub the floors. Momma didn’t get any better, though. Seemed to get worse, actually. She’d spend longer and longer just staring into space. When she wasn't zoned out, she'd follow Dad around, holding up the doll, wanting him to admire "their son." Finally, Dad got fed up. He dragged her out back and shoved her into the empty pigsty next to the one with the hogs. Told her she could sleep there with the dirt. Said if she was so sure she had a baby, maybe they should just cut her open and take a look. 4 That night, I was half-asleep when I heard noises from the kitchen. Sounded like Momma moving around. I didn't think much of it. Figured she was hungry, looking for something to eat. I just rolled over and went back to sleep. Next morning, I got up early, like always, to fix breakfast and feed the hogs. I mixed up the slop bucket and carried it out towards the sties. When I got close, I saw her. Momma. Lying on the muddy ground in the empty sty. Her stomach was cut wide open. Her insides… they were spilled out all over the dirt. Blood was everywhere. In one hand, she still clutched that dirty kitchen knife. In the other, the raggedy baby doll. Just lying there, staring up at the gray sky. I dropped the slop bucket. I ran towards her, screaming for Grandma, for Dad, screaming for them to wake up. I pushed away one of the hogs from the next pen that was snuffling at… at Momma’s insides through the fence. I knelt beside her in the mud. I didn’t know what to do. My hands hovered over her. I wanted to push everything back inside, cover the awful gash, pull her out of the filth, but I was too scared to touch her. I was terrified. I just broke down, sobbing, crying out, "Somebody help Momma! Please, somebody help!" "What's all the racket out here? It's barely daylight! Breakfast ready yet?" Grandma Hazel came shuffling out, pulling her robe around her shoulders, heading towards the pigsties. When she saw the scene, she stopped dead. Then she turned right around and ran out the front gate, fast as her old legs could carry her. A little while later, she came back, dragging Miss Ida behind her. I was still sitting there next to Momma, all cried out, just numb. Grandma didn't even look at me as she came through the gate, already muttering curses. "Good riddance," she spat. "Couldn't even die somewhere else. Had to do it right here in the pigsty, where we keep our money-makers. Bad luck, that’s what it is. Just plain bad luck." Miss Ida didn't say anything. She just walked up to the edge of the sty, peered in for a second, then turned and headed towards the house, into the living room. I was scared they were plotting something else horrible, so I scrambled up and followed them. "She's dead," Miss Ida said flatly. "Killed herself. Gotta get her buried. Quick." "So where d'you reckon is best, Miss Ida?" Grandma asked, suddenly all sweet and polite, pushing the jar of Momma's wildflower honey into Miss Ida’s hands. Our only jar. I stared at that honey. Momma had gone up the mountain herself to gather the nectar for it, just for me. I was the least favorite in the house, always eating leftovers after they were done. Momma worried I'd waste away, so she got me that honey. It was the only thing she’d ever really been able to give me. I wanted to snatch it back. I started to move, but Grandma shoved me hard. I fell onto the floorboards. "Get away, you little brat," she hissed, glaring down at me. "You think you deserve something nice? Get outta here." I just sat there, hurting, staring up at them with pure hate, but I couldn't do anything. "Tonight," Miss Ida said, tucking the honey into her bag. "You and your son take the body up the back hill. Bury her there. Good spot, that land. Your boy marries again, he'll get a son first try, guaranteed." Miss Ida turned to leave. As she passed me, she paused, looking me up and down. "My, my," she said, a strange look in her eyes. "This little granddaughter of yours… she's turnin' into quite a pretty little thing." 5 Grandma Hazel and Dad were too busy figuring out how to bury Momma secretly to bother with me. I found an old bedsheet and gently covered Momma up. I picked up the baby doll from her cold hand, tears streaming down my face again. I had to get help. I remembered hearing folks talk about a Sheriff's office in the next town over. I had to tell someone. I waited for a chance, then I bolted out the door and ran as fast as I could down the dirt road towards the edge of town. But I didn’t even make it to the main road before Mr. Henderson, the man who ran things around here, caught up to me in his pickup truck. He just smiled, asked where I was off to in such a hurry, and drove me right back home. Dad was waiting on the porch. He grabbed me by the hair, dragged me inside, and threw me into my little room, locking the door from the outside. "Damn girl!" he roared through the door. "Feed you, raise you, and you try to run off! Just goes to show – can't trust a kid from a woman we brought here! Ungrateful!" Brought here? Yes, Momma hadn't always lived here. They'd brought her here. Like most of the women in our neck of the woods, truth be told. I'd overheard whispers. Momma used to be in college somewhere, far away. Smart, pretty. And now… that smart, pretty woman was dead. Murdered by inches, forced into madness, and left to die in a filthy pigsty. Just before dark, Miss Ida came back. She supervised as Dad and Grandma shoved Momma's body into a burlap sack. Then the three of them headed out towards the back hill. I wanted to follow, just to see where they put her, so I could maybe leave flowers someday, or just… know. But Grandma caught me trying to sneak out. She beat me again, hard, warning me not to cause any more trouble. I waited up, huddled in my dark room, until they came back, way late into the night. I heard them whispering in the living room. "You remember what Miss Ida said?" Grandma hissed. "Don't you ever go up there. Don't even think about her. Like she never existed." "Yeah, yeah, Ma, I heard ya," Dad grumbled, sounding tired. "Said it fifty times on the way back." "You sure… you sure you didn't feel like someone was watchin' us back there? On the hill?" Grandma sounded spooked. "Nah, Ma. Just the wind. You're gettin' jumpy. Go on to bed now." Dad's footsteps headed towards his room. Sleep wouldn't come for me. All I could think about was Momma. Working herself to the bone for this family, forced to eat that vile stew, and now… now they wanted to pretend she never even existed. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. I wouldn't run again. Not yet. I had to do something. For Momma. I had to make them pay. The next morning, I got up at dawn, same as always, to feed the hogs. As I got closer to the sties, my heart pounding with grief and anger, I saw something that made me stop in my tracks. There was someone standing in the empty pigsty. Where Momma had been. When I saw the face, my legs went weak, and I sank right down onto the muddy ground. I couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. I just stared, frozen, at the woman who looked exactly, exactly like my momma, watching her slowly turn and walk towards me…
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