Masquerade: Hypnosis -before I Knew It- I-m Preg...

The masquerade had a theme this year: Hypnos’s Gala . Every invitation bore the image of a poppy-wreathed figure with fingers pressed to smiling lips. Everyone joked about it. “Don’t drink the punch unless you want to wake up married.” “Careful, the DJ is actually a neurologist.” Just party chatter. Rich people’s Halloween with better tailoring.

The whisper came again, closer this time, warm breath against my ear even though no one stood behind me.

The silk was deep midnight blue, embroidered with constellations that seemed to shift when I blinked. My mask was a delicate thing of silver lace and tiny, faceted obsidians that caught the candlelight of the masquerade hall behind me. I didn’t recall putting it on, either. In fact, the last clear memory I had was standing in the coat-check line, holding a champagne flute I hadn’t been old enough to drink from. Masquerade Hypnosis -Before I knew it- I-m Preg...

I just didn’t know to whom.

You agreed to this. In the trance, you said yes. You said, “I want to know what it feels like to carry life.” You signed the velvet book with a quill made of your own hair. The masquerade had a theme this year: Hypnos’s Gala

Or when.

Not words, exactly. More like the shape of words pressed against the inside of my skull. Let go. Step into the dance. You are exactly where you need to be. “Don’t drink the punch unless you want to

The last thing I remember before the door opened was the whisper’s final gift: a single memory surfacing from the trance. Myself, kneeling on a floor of rose petals and pocket watches, lifting a silver chalice to my lips, and whispering, “I consent. I consent. I consent.”

Before I could scream, the spiral in my eyes turned once more. My knees went soft. My fear dissolved like sugar in warm milk. The woman in the mirror finally smiled with my face—not delayed, not dreamy, but truly mine.

“Don’t panic,” I told my reflection. The woman in the mirror smiled back a beat too late. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, dreamy, utterly at peace. That wasn’t me. I don’t smile.

Except now, three hours—or was it three days?—later, I stood in a suite I didn’t recognize, wearing jewelry I’d never seen, and my stomach felt… different. Not sick. Not full. Occupied in a way that had no business existing.