Three days later, my husband finally opened the pigsty door.
By then, I was entirely out of my mind.
——
"What's going on?"
"Caitlin is still locked in the pigsty?"
"Didn't I ask you to let her out before I left?"
Charlie gasped in shock as he flung open the pigsty door, only to find me lying beneath the hulking sow.
"Caitlin, wake up!"
Charlie's fingers trembled slightly as he reached under my nose.
After confirming that I was still breathing, he breathed a sigh of relief, followed by another burst of anger.
He roared.
"Caitlin, if you're not dead, get up now!"
"Your brother's back from the army today, clean yourself up!"
"Don't make him think I've been mistreating you!"
Still, I didn't move. Instead, I patted the pig's back rhythmically.
I was humming a lullaby, the one I used to sing to put my daughter to sleep.
Charlie frowned, feeling irritated and kicked the pig.
The pig stirred awake, its foul-smelling mouth chewing sluggishly as it blinked open its eyes.
I also got up in a panic.
"Nicole, are you awake?"
"Are you hungry?"
"Mommy will feed you."
As I said this, I pulled open my clothes, ready to breastfeed.
Charlie's eyes widened in terror. He pointed at me, stammering incoherently.