When I first found the zipper just below my belly, a wave of emotions rippled through me. Why was there a zipper attached to me? What would I find within? Was I losing my mind?

I slowly pulled the slider across my body and a small baby boy poked his head out. He scowled and hissed at me and tried to reach for my neck with his little arms. I gently pushed him back inside and zipped him up.

I was afraid to show the zipper to others, but I was more terrified of letting him out again. He continued to press himself against my skin though, so I had no choice but to release him from time to time. Within a few weeks, he had grown considerably larger. He never fully pulled himself out of me; he’d just lift his body partially. But he always had an angry frown on his face.

I’d try to swaddle him as best I could and apologize for everything that I had done, but he was in no mood for apologies. He knew I failed him. A setback at the worst possible time. A return to meth a few days before he was born. My poor Elliott, stillborn during the C-section.

And now he constantly reminds me of the life I cut short before it even began. He continues to grow beneath the zipper. He looks like he is five years old, but the reality is, it’s only been a few months since I delivered.

He doesn’t speak any actual words, but he does snarl at me. And it seems his mission is to torture me and put me through hell. I weep each time he emerges. I beg for forgiveness, but he still wants to punish me.

And now I’m afraid, I’m at the end of my rope. I can feel him getting larger inside of me. I occasionally open the zipper just a few inches, and now I only see his feet. I can feel his head getting close to my neck.

He has no plans to exit from the zipper, because my entire body is the zipper now. And he’s the one in control. When he is ready, he will shed me of my skin and be reborn.