The sound was deafening. Metal crashed against metal. Hangers flew into the air, raining down around me. But all I felt was a sickening, agonizing thud as the sharp metal edge of the rack slammed directly into the side of my abdomen, right where my baby was resting.

I collapsed onto the floor, pulling my knees up to my chest, screaming in absolute, blinding agony. A sharp, searing pain shot through my stomach and down my spine. It felt like I was being ripped apart from the inside out.

Through my blurry, tear-filled vision, I looked up.

David was standing there, staring down at me. For a second, just one second, I thought I saw a flash of regret. But then his face hardened. He looked at the $36 sweater on the floor, stepped over my legs, and walked away.

He didn’t check on me. He didn’t call for help. He just walked down the aisle, turned the corner, and left me there on the floor.

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