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

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.

“Coming, darling,” I heard myself say. And I meant it. Masquerade Hypnosis -Before I knew it- I-m Preg...

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. You agreed to this

But my hand—the one not pressed to my belly—was smudged with dried ink. Indigo. The same color as the constellations on my gown. “Coming, darling,” I heard myself say

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 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.”