As wave after wave of sorrow and despair flow through me, wave after wave of intense cramps shoot through my stomach. It feels like I’m being ripped apart from the inside out.
I even wonder if I’m dying, because it feels like I am.
The next morning, I hear whispering, and I realize I don’t care what’s going on around me. After experiencing the worst kind of pain, I’ve decided to shut down. It’s easier to shut it all off than to feel what I do all the time. I don’t want to do anything but keep the numbness right where it is.
Feeling numb is much better than feeling such heartache.
Gazing at the wall, I don’t notice Ava, standing in front of me, until she bends down, blocking my view. “Hey, sweetie.”
My only response is to blink, since it’ll hurt to try and speak. “How about we get you up, and get you a nice shower?”
I still don’t answer her, even as she guides me out of the bed. Glancing back, my stomach clenches, as I see the blood-soaked sheets. It makes sense why Ava wants me up to take a shower. I’m probably covered in blood, too.
My baby’s blood.
Forcing myself to stop those thoughts, I clench my jaw tight, forcing myself not to cry. I refuse to think about the evidence left behind. With shaky legs, Ava holds onto my arm, as the other is wrapped around my waist. I let her help me undress, and she stays to lead me into the shower. At this point, I wonder if she’s going to stand in here with me, but she doesn’t. Once the water is going, she gives me the saddest smile, and then turns to leave. She’s probably going to get rid of those sheets.
As the hot water pours down on me, I drop my head, watching the blood wash away. At first, it’s red, but then, it slowly begins to turn pink, and then it’s clear. I don’t even realize I’m sobbing, until I suddenly can’t breathe. I give up trying to stand, deciding to sit on the tile inside the shower. Pulling my legs up to my chest, my tears mix with the water. I’ve never felt such intense pain before.
It’s indescribable.
All I do know is, I don’t think I can get through this. I’m not strong enough to accept what’s happened, and then move on. I feel like I’m drowning in grief and misery, and I don’t know, if I’ll ever be able to come back from it. Something like this will leave a permanent scar, forever branding me, forcing me to live with this pain for the rest of my life.
I don’t know how long I stay in the shower, before I realize the water has turned cold. Getting up, I quickly wash myself, and then shut off the water. Stepping out, I notice at some point someone came inside the bathroom and left me clean clothes. Thinking it was Ava, I dry off, and then dress.
My only destination in mind is going back to bed, since I’m suddenly so tired. I’m emotionally exhausted, and I hope Ava doesn’t mind that I won’t be a very good host. I’m sure Sebastian will take care of it all.
Just as I’m about to open the bathroom door, I hear Ava and Sebastian talking. They’re trying to be quiet, but I’d have to be deaf not to hear them. They must not realize the shower is off, or I’m sure they’re conversation would’ve ended.
“It’s going to take time, Sebastian,” Ava says, and my stomach drops, hearing the sadness in her voice.
“I know.” Sebastian states, and he goes silent for a moment, before he asks, “How do I help her? I don’t know how to make this better, Ava. How am I supposed to help her get through this? I saw her in the shower, and I just don’t know what to do. It kills me she’s going through this, and I can’t stand to see her hurting.” My eyes fill with tears, as I notice the torture in his voice. “I don’t know how to help her,” he claims, and the anguish in his tone is too much for me to handle.
Opening the door, they both go deathly quiet, as they see me. I don’t bother to let them know I heard them, since I prefer not to think about it. My only mission is to crawl into bed, and then go to sleep. I want to forget about everything. I don’t want to know how much Sebastian is hurting, or even acknowledge how I’m feeling.
I just want to sleep.
One month later
Using my fork, I move my uneaten food around my plate. I can’t remember the last time I wanted to eat anything, and if it weren’t for Sebastian literally forcing me to, I wouldn’t. I’ve lost all interest in everything, including the will to live. I haven’t actually tried to commit suicide, but it’s something I consider on a daily basis.
I’m tired of the endless suffering.
Pushing out a deep breath, I drop my fork with every intention of going back to bed. However, the moment I start to stand, Sebastian slams his fist onto the table, making it jerk. Sitting back down, I don’t dare look at him, because the moment I do, the pain will intensify.
“Eat,” he barks out, and I shake my head. “Fuck, Trixie. You can’t keep doing this. You’re literally starving yourself to death, and I won’t sit by and watch you do this to yourself anymore.”
Swallowing hard, my eyes fill with tears, and my stomach balls into huge knots. This is another thing I can’t deal with. His disappointment is just as bad as the pain. “I’ve made you an appointment with a therapist.”
Snapping my gaze to his, I hold onto the sudden anger I feel. “You did what?”
“You’re going to talk about this with a professional.”
Clenching
