Dawn of Eve, MJ Howson [lightweight ebook reader TXT] 📗

that bag last year, promising her they’d use it for a wonderful adventure. So far, the only place she’d taken it was to this dreary camp. “Why?”

“Shhh!” Caretaker looked around the room, but the rest of the children remained fast asleep. “Yes. Pack. It’s time for your big birthday gift.”

“A gift?”

Anna grabbed Binky and flung her blanket aside. She scurried to the armoire in the opposite corner of the room and opened the doors, the worn brass hinges squealing softly. There were seven shelves inside, one for each child. The bottom shelf was hers. Caretaker carried the bag to the armoire and placed it beside Anna. Together they proceeded to hastily fill it with the rest of her belongings.

Last Christmas, when Anna’s parents told her she’d be going to camp in January, she wasn’t sure what to expect. She had crammed two weeks’ worth of clothes into her bag. She now struggled to make it all fit.

“Should I change out of this stupid robe?” Anna asked.

“No.”

Anna frowned as she jammed each item into the bag. She’d brought so many favorites; her sweatshirt covered in red hearts, the matching sneakers, her pink socks. Anna’s heart filled with joy, knowing she’d finally be able to wear these again. She couldn’t wait to rip off the dreary robe covering her.

With Caretaker’s help, she crammed the last of her clothes inside. Anna zipped the bag closed and followed Caretaker into the hallway. Caretaker pulled a heavy brass keyring from her pocket and secured the bedroom door. She looked at Anna, smiled, and said, “Follow me.”

Anna could barely contain her excitement. She found herself practically skipping as she walked behind Caretaker. They passed the schoolroom and then the playroom. At the end of the hallway, they turned right. Anna stopped and said, “We aren’t allowed down here.”

“Kids aren’t allowed.” Caretaker smiled and patted Anna on the head. “But you’re all grown up now.”

The pair started down the long hallway. The wheels on Anna’s bag rattled against the cracked cobblestone floor. The overhead lights cast a dim orange glow throughout the musty passageway. After a few turns, they soon reached an iron-barred gate in the middle of the corridor. Caretaker selected another key from her keyring and unlocked the door.

“What’s my gift? Tell me!”

“So full of desire, aren’t you?” Caretaker motioned Anna through the gate. “You don’t want me to spoil it. Do you?”

“Will I like it?”

Caretaker remained silent and led Anna through a maze of intersecting hallways that quickly confused the young girl. At long last, they reached the end of the corridor and another locked door. The keychain rattled as Caretaker flicked through the cumbersome collection, finally extracting a jet-black skeleton key. She slid the key into the lock, looked at Anna, and said, “Happy birthday, Annabelle.”

The door slowly swung open. Anna took a few steps inside, smiled, and said, “Mom! Dad!” Her joy faded as she gazed past her parents. Anna looked back at Caretaker, somewhat confused, and asked, “What is this place?”

Two

The Checkup

Present Day (May 8, 2019)

Gwen gnawed on the tip of her plastic pen as she studied the patient chart resting in front of her. A quick review indicated this was the patient’s fifth time being pregnant. Her first pregnancy occurred roughly eighteen years ago. Every pregnancy had ended with a miscarriage. Gwen groaned, dreading what awaited her in the exam room. Patients with complex histories always proved to be the most emotional.

The clock above the nearby restroom showed the time to be just past three o’clock in the afternoon. Gwen’s eyes burned, tired from the extra shifts she was pulling this weekend. This past week had seen an unexpected flu outbreak, and they were currently understaffed.

Despite her current state of exhaustion, Gwen reminded herself how fortunate she was to have secured an ultrasound technician position at New York Women’s Care. Many considered the five-year-old clinic to be the leading women’s reproductive health facility in Chelsea. The pay and benefits were fantastic, as the center mostly catered to New York City’s wealthiest inhabitants.

Gwen rubbed her blurry eyes and dragged the chart off the counter. She slowly made her way down the hallway to room number seven. She took a cleansing breath and put on a smile as she opened the door.

“Mrs. Easton?” Gwen asked.

“That’s Miss. Miss Easton.” Dawn smiled from the examination bed, nervously tugging on her fingers. “I’m . . . I’m not married. Yet.”

Gwen nodded in apology as she entered the room and closed the door behind her.

“I’m sorry, Miss Easton, it’s been a long day for me.”

The examination room looked more like a hotel suite instead of a medical room. The white aluminum cabinets gleamed with brushed nickel-satin finished pulls. Pale gray quartz countertops, speckled with glimmering flecks of white crystals, took the place of traditional laminate or metal counters. The walls were painted a soothing shade of sage green. A bowl of potpourri, filled with lavender and vanilla scented dried flowers, sat atop a large white metal stand. Paintings of rolling grassy fields, executed in soft muted tones, hung on the walls. A large supply cabinet covered one wall. The shelves contained frames of mothers, daughters, and families. A smart speaker nestled on the middle shelf played calming transcendental music.

Dawn fidgeted with her straight shoulder-length white-blonde hair as she looked out the nearby window. Her black eyebrows only made her hair color appear that much more artificial. Standing five foot nine and with a slim hourglass figure, Dawn’s features would be considered bland if not for her odd obvious dye job. Rarely one to wear makeup, Dawn’s crystal blue eyes were the only pop of color on an otherwise blank canvas.

“How are you feeling today?” Gwen pulled a chrome stool covered in dark gray leather beside the exam table. She adjusted the height, sat down beside Dawn, and scanned the medical chart one more time. “Any changes?”

“Changes?” Dawn’s eyes darted around as she bit her upper lip. “Should there be?”

Gwen glanced