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Worst Fear 7

Worst Fear 7

 

Chapter 7 

Lydia 

SEVEN MONTHS LATER 

The months that followed were hell. 

I barely slept and barely ate. I felt sick all the time; my body felt weak, and my head was always heavy. My stomach was now fully out as my babies kept growing. 

My body was changing fast as well, evolving to accommodate the two being growing. Only, I wished there was a better way 

to hide it. 

Because here, being weak was dangerous. Especially when you have inmates sent from hell seeking your death and utmost destruction. Some nights, they’d steal my meals, and I’d have to go on without food. If I get lucky, Gloria will come around and sneak me a few extra bites. She was indeed an angel. 

I kept my head down and did what I was told to avoid unnecessary attention from both the guards and my inmates. Still, they always found a way to bully me. 

The guards didn’t care if I was sick. Work was work. We had to clean, do laundry, whatever they felt like making us do that day. If I dared to refuse, I’d face punishment, and the punishments I’ve seen around here were terrifying. 

My baby definitely wouldn’t survive; I wouldn’t either. 

Yesterday was laundry day, and I had to take on my portion and Mary’s, too. Today, it was the damn sewing room. 

The machines were old, the air filled with dust, so much that I wondered if it was the right room. I sat at the table, trying my best not to inhale so much dust, as it could be dangerous for my health. 

I stared at the clothing laid out for me; it was old prison uniforms that had been cut in different places and needed to be sewn back. Just as I picked up one, a full damp of them was suddenly thrown on the table. 

I looked up to see none other than Mary and her followers standing there laughing at me. 

“Finish fast before the guards come to inspect, got it?” Mary thumbed my forehead hard before walking away. It hurt a lot, but I ignored it and sighed as I tried to focus on stitching the torn prison uniforms in front of me. 

My eyelids were heavy from staying up all night yesterday doing laundry. Now, I have a huge load of prison uniforms to go through, and most of them were in bad shape. 

Just thinking about it made me so fatigued. With a huge sigh, I finally began sewing the clothes before me. I did my best to sew them as fast as possible, and slowly, the clothes dropped to the ground. 

One. Two. Three. Four…….. 

I barely noticed when my head dropped, too. I was so tired. I needed just a few seconds of sleep, maybe just five minutes, so my eyes wouldn’t hurt as much as they did. 

Bang! 

I jolted awake, my heart almost jumping out of my chest due to the scare. The next sound that followed was laughter as I slowly rubbed my still-burning eyes. 

I blinked, my vision cleared, and then I noticed four women standing around me, smirking. They were the ones who 

Chapter 7 

thought they owned this place, the ones everyone feared: Tracy, Vivian, Camelia, and, worst of all, their leader, Mary. 

Mary was in the middle. Her thick, muscular arms were crossed, and her eyes stared at me as though she were a wolf staring at her little prey. 

“Fell asleep on the job, huh?” she drawled. I said nothing. I sat up, forcing my hands to keep working as fast as possible. There was nothing I could say either way. If I apologized, they’d only hurt me more, and hurting me would mean hurting my babies. 

“Didn’t hear me talking to you?” Mary asked, leaning closer. I kept my eyes on the needle, my fingers moving slower even though I mentally begged them to go faster. 

Another slap, this time on my shoulder. “I’m talking to you, bitch.” I swallowed, keeping my mouth shut. 

PS 2 28 2 4 

Mary laughed. “Look at her, acting all high and mighty.” Another girl snickered. “She thinks she’s better than everybody, carrying herself about like some sort of high-status cunt with that nurse friend of hers.” 

“Maybe she needs to be reminded where she is,” someone else muttered. I felt it before it happened. 

A sharp yank. 

My chair scraped against the floor as Mary grabbed the collar of my uniform, pulling me up. My hands flew to hers, but she was too strong. 

“Are you deaf now?” she hissed. I struggled and writhed in her grasp, my breath coming fast. “Let go.” 

“Or what?” Mary smirked. “Gonna cry for your rich billionaire husband to save you?” Laughter erupted around us. 

I gritted my teeth, refusing to react. Her grip tightened even more. “Say something, bitch.” 

I clenched my jaw. Nothing. 

Mary’s eyes darkened. “Hold her,” she ordered, and they immediately obliged to her orders. 

Hands grabbed my arms, locking me in place. My heart slammed against my ribs as I realized they were going to hurt me now. Mary raised a hand, her fingers curling into a fist. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the hit- 

Then I blacked out. 

My whole body ached. 

I barely moved as I lay curled up on the thin mattress, my arms wrapped around my swollen stomach. Every inch of me hurt-my ribs, my back, my face. The stale air of the cell did nothing to ease the pain. 

I should have known better than to fight back. 

I worried for my baby’s health as memories from the day before filled my senses. A punch to my gut. A slap across my face. Kicks to my ribs. 

I tried to protect my stomach as best as I could. That was all that mattered. 

Now, my lip was swollen, my cheek bruised, and my ribs throbbed with every breath I took. But the babies were okay; Gloria confirmed it. 

214 

Chapter 7 

A knock on the cell bars made me flinch. 

“24189, you have a visitor,” the guard said. That was me. I forced myself to sit up as the blanket slid off me, and I pushed my hair out of my face. 

A visitor? 

I hadn’t had a visitor since- No. I refused to think about that. 

I got to my feet slowly, holding my stomach. The guard unlocked the cell and stepped aside. I shuffled forward, wincing with every step. 

After what I can only describe as misery, I got to the visitation area. My eyes met with a pair of chocolate brown ones as I noticed my lawyer seated there. 

Even though I refused to admit it to myself, I knew I wished Mason was there instead. Pushing those thoughts aside, I walked towards her and sat carefully. 

She sighed. “Lydia…” I ignored the pity in her voice. “What’s wrong?” My voice came out hoarse. 

She hesitated before replying. “Your verdict will be read in the morning.” 

My fingers clenched. “That soon?” 

She nodded. “The judge moved it up,” she replied in a low tone. I sighed as I felt my sweaty palms rub together. 

“Lydia.” She leaned forward. “I need you to prepare yourself.” 

The tone she used scared me, but I held back from wearing my expression out. “For what?” 

She looked at me carefully. “The court may be merciful because of your pregnancy, but this is still a murder case.” I knew what she meant, and that’s what scared me, but I kept my face blank. 

“How bad will it be?” My voice was flat. 

She exhaled. “I don’t know. It depends on the judge.” I pressed a hand to my stomach as I felt a possessive instinct kick in. 

I had known from the beginning that this wouldn’t end well. There was no proof that I didn’t do it. There was no evidence, and my only witness was Zoe, but my conscience just wouldn’t let me get her involved, so I pleaded guilty before knowing of my pregnancy. I want to be free for my twins. 

My lawyer rubbed her temples. “I don’t want you getting your hopes up,” she said. “I don’t have any,” I said quietly. 

She studied me for a moment. “Lydia…are the babies okay?” I hesitated before nodding. “Yes.” 

Her gaze darkened as she looked at the bruises on my face. “Are you sure?” I nodded again. 

She sighed, leaning back. “We can push for house arrest until you give birth. That’s the best I can do.” I stared at the table, my nails digging into my palms. 

House arrest. 

It was better than this place. Better than waking up every day wondering if I’d survive until the next. But it wasn’t freedom. It wasn’t justice, either. 

I lifted my eyes to hers. “And after I give birth?” 

Chapter 7 

She was silent. 

I already knew the answer. The moment the babies were out of me, I’d be thrown into whatever hell they decided I belonged 

I looked down at my stomach. Seven months gone. Two more months and my babies would be here. Two more months before they take my babies away. 

“Lydia.” My lawyer’s voice was softer now. “Do you have anyone who can take the babies?” 

My throat tightened. 

Mason. He was the babies’s father, so he should be the one to take care of it, but… What if he takes my babies away from me forever? I can’t let that happen. 

I clenched my jaw. “I’ll figure it out.” She looked like she wanted to say more, but she didn’t. Instead, she pushed a piece of paper across the table. 

“This is the appeal form,” she said. “If the verdict isn’t in your favor, we can try to reduce the sentence.” I didn’t touch the paper. “Will it change anything?” 

She hesitated. “Maybe.” 

Maybe. 

That word meant nothing to me anymore. I reached forward and took the paper anyway. I had nothing to lose. My lawyer checked the time and sighed. “I have to go.” 

I nodded, gripping the paper tightly. She stood, pausing for a second. “Lydia…” I looked up at her as I desperately tried to hold back the tears. 

She hesitated. “Take care of yourself,” I said nothing as she turned and walked away. The second she was gone, I exhaled shakily. 

Verdict tomorrow. 

Punishment next month. What will become of me? I suddenly felt my babies move in my belly, and I unhurriedly pressed my hands over my stomach. 

I had two months left before I got to see them. Two months. 

Worst Fear

Worst Fear

Score 9.9
Status: Ongoing Type: Native Language: English
Worst Fear Synopsis : Worst Fear

Lydia’s world was already a crumbling ruin long before she collapsed on the cold, bleach-slick tiles of Westgate Prison. She had been serving her sentence with quiet endurance, forcing herself to survive each monotonous day. Cleaning floors, enduring the harsh routine, and trying to numb her thoughts had become her way of life. But as she gripped the mop handle, her body betrayed her — dizziness washed over her, and before she could steady herself, the world went black.

When she regained consciousness, Lydia found herself lying on a thin mattress in the prison hospital. The sterile smell of disinfectant filled her lungs, and her head ached violently. A familiar figure stood by her bedside — Nurse Gloria, a kind-hearted woman often whispered about by the inmates for her compassion. Lydia had never personally interacted with her before; she preferred keeping her distance from everyone. But this time, she had no choice.

Gloria spoke softly, her voice calm and motherly. “You fainted during your shift,” she explained. Lydia, groggy and disoriented, nodded faintly. Fainting wasn’t unusual for prisoners — malnutrition, exhaustion, and stress were daily realities in Westgate. But Gloria’s next words didn’t fit the routine explanation. She leaned in, her tone serious and almost secretive. “I ran some tests to see why you collapsed.”

Lydia’s brows furrowed. Tests? The nurse’s expression made her heart race. Something was wrong. And then Gloria said it — words that hit Lydia like a lightning strike.

“You’re three months pregnant.”

For a moment, Lydia’s world went silent. The walls, the lights, the nurse — everything faded into a blur of disbelief. Pregnant? That couldn’t be right. Her throat went dry as she tried to process the impossible. Three months. Her hands instinctively flew to her stomach, pressing against the rough fabric of her prison uniform. There was nothing — no bump, no sign of life — yet Gloria’s certainty left no room for denial.

Lydia’s first reaction was refusal. “No,” she whispered. Her voice trembled. “That can’t be right.” But Gloria simply nodded, her expression heavy with empathy. “It’s right, Lydia. I double-checked the results myself.”

The truth settled like a stone in Lydia’s gut. The symptoms she’d ignored — the morning dizziness, the fevers, the missed periods — suddenly made sense. Deep down, she knew this was no mistake. Panic clawed at her chest as she realized what this meant. Her past — the one she’d buried so carefully since the day she was arrested — came rushing back. The man she had loved, the night she had tried to forget, the betrayal that had shattered her life.

Tears burned in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall in front of Gloria. She couldn’t afford weakness here. Her voice was barely a whisper when she pleaded, “Please… you can’t tell anyone. No one can know about this.”

Gloria studied her for a long moment. Lydia could see the internal conflict behind the nurse’s eyes — between her duty to report and her compassion for the broken woman before her. Finally, Gloria sighed softly and nodded. “I won’t say a word,” she promised. Relief washed over Lydia like a wave, but it was fleeting. Gloria wasn’t finished. “But you have to promise me something too. You’ll come back for regular checkups. No skipping, no excuses. You and the baby need to be monitored. Do you understand?”

Lydia nodded mutely, emotion choking her voice. She didn’t trust herself to speak. The nurse gave her hand a gentle squeeze before stepping away to inform the guards that Lydia needed rest.

The walk back to her cell felt endless. Two guards flanked her on either side, but she barely noticed them. Her mind was spinning, replaying Gloria’s words over and over — three months pregnant. Each repetition felt like a hammer blow. She stumbled into her cell, collapsing onto the thin, creaky cot. The metal door slammed shut behind her, sealing her inside with the suffocating truth.

She stared at the ceiling for a long time before curling up on her side. Her trembling hands hovered over her stomach, fear twisting in her chest. She could barely keep herself alive in this place — how could she protect an unborn child? Westgate wasn’t meant for fragile things. It was a graveyard of hope, a place that crushed even the strongest spirits. What kind of life could she possibly give her baby behind these bars?

The tears she had fought earlier now spilled freely, sliding down her cheeks as silent sobs wracked her body. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, as if she could shield the tiny life inside her from the cruelty of the world beyond her cell walls.

For the first time in years, Lydia prayed. Not for freedom, not for revenge — just for strength. For the chance to protect this unexpected child growing inside her.

As she turned her hand, the faint glint of her wedding band caught her eye. The ring mocked her, its shine a cruel reminder of the life she had lost. Three months ago, everything had been perfect — or so she thought. Her marriage had felt like a fairy tale. Even though her in-laws despised her, she had still believed love could conquer everything. Her husband had been her safe haven, her anchor.

Until the night everything fell apart.

The memory was sharp and unforgiving — flashing lights, police sirens, his face twisted in disgust as she was dragged away in handcuffs. The betrayal in his eyes had hurt worse than the accusation itself. That image haunted her still, burned into her mind like a scar that would never fade.

Now, lying in that cold, dim cell, Lydia finally understood how deep her despair ran. The baby inside her was both a curse and a fragile glimmer of hope. A connection to the man she once loved — and the life she could never return to.

As exhaustion finally claimed her, her last thoughts were of him — the man she’d once trusted more than anyone. His expression, full of hatred and disbelief, was the last thing she saw before the darkness took her again.

And for the first time, Lydia realized she wasn’t just a prisoner anymore. She was a mother — trapped in a place where love and life were luxuries no one could afford. But no matter what, she silently vowed: she would find a way to protect her baby, even if it meant fighting the entire world from behind these bars.

 

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