Aw shit I forgot I was wearing green eyeshadow and rubbed my eye :( Ten chapters sounds good for this series. Also, please don't clown me for the name choice here, I looked up popular feminine French names in 1930s and spent like an hour reading through them. I think that's a good amount of time for The Terrors to run their course, but I'm a bit much at the worst of times, so whoops. If it happens, it does, if it doesn't, it doesn't. Dividers by @/cafekistune!
This fic is for: Anyone who can handle it! This chapter is fucked up, folks, and the body of the reader is female, which is explored, but not as intensely as it could be here. As this is a reincarnation fic, reader is whoever is the mind.
TW FOR: DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT!!!! Forced pregnancy and BIRTH!!! Premature birth, non-expanded on vomit, physical pain, disassociation, unrealistic birth sequences because I am not a parent thank fuck, this chapter jumps around a lot but it'll make sense soon I think, Shitty planning and poor driving on Epel's part here!
Link to previous chapter HERE!!
You can barely remember what the trip to the hospital was like. All you felt was pain. Pain, and pushing, and clenching… Sort of like watching a worm, undulation and writhe, undulation and roll. You could sort of hear Epel as he packed you into his little car, sort of see his pale face.
“Alright, just stay with me, honey.” He kept saying.
You were with him. You were also thinking that this whole thing seemed a bit early. You were just a few days away from seven months, which you thought was funny, since there’s the seven deadly sins, seven heavenly virtues, the Great Seven… You have seven thoughts to beg the hospital for help in getting you away from fucking Epel Felmier.
Epel is on the phone, and he might have done something to make you invisible to cops, since he passes at least three and they don’t stop him, even though the speedometer keeps crawling up. Once he parks haphazardly, through the bleary haze of pain you can hear his labored breathing, feel his trembling as he lifts you out of the car. You close your eyes as he runs into the hospital.
The nurses have him put you in a wheelchair, taking you to the maternity ward, and then suddenly you’re on a table and Doctor Zigvolt is nodding at you, eyes wide as he tells you to push, push…
You’re unable to really focus on much other than the roiling agony in your body. You barely hear the doctors and nurses, barely feel the cold, clinical touch of the sterilized gloves on your thighs and knees, barely feel yourself pushing.
When Epel grabs your hand, all you feel is hatred and pain. He looks terrified, and you suddenly wish that he was the one in this body, feeling the wicked pain you are. You grit your teeth and push, your words a bitter grit, “Fuck you, motherfucker-”
He laughs, “Yeah? Maybe in a few more weeks, we can give her a sister.”
You roar, with a final, heaving push, “No!”
The push also forces you to vomit on yourself. The smell of the bile does somewhat help with your lucidity, but it doesn’t help with your pain or anger. You sob and push, and the pain shoots up from your crotch like hooks shredding through your skin. Epel is still gripping your hand.
The baby squalling doesn’t dull the pain. They put her in your arms after cleaning you up. You didn’t know you had outstretched your arms, didn’t know you wanted to hold this parasite that you suddenly want a lot more, and you look at her. Even now, shriveled little reddened raisin that she is, she looks more like you than Epel. You suppose you can be grateful for that.
Epel is crying, tears in his big blue eyes, and you wish he was crying because he is in pain, but he’s not. They’re tears of joy.
He keeps whispering, talking about “his beautiful family” and how much he loves you and the baby, and you want to get up and leave, but you can’t. The baby latches onto your breast and you really wish you hated her as well, but you don’t.
When they take her away, since she was a month early, you feel hollow- as though she’s dead, and not just in another room. The nurse comes in and smiles at you and Epel.
“Congratulations again, you two! What are we thinking in terms of names?” She’s too happy. Like Belle.
Epel looks at you, “Well… you did a great job, pushin’ her head out.”
His pretty lavender hair is glued to his forehead by sweat. He gives you a toothy grin, and you look at your hands, “Um… I don’t know. When can I have her back?”
Epel looked a bit uncomfortable, but smiled winningly at the nurse, “Well… We didn’t talk names, being busy with work and moving… Honey, how about Odette?”
“Like the bitch in Swan Lake?” You snapped at him.
“Alright. One of my ancestors was named Simone? You like that one?”
You wanted to cry. You didn’t care that much about her name, but you wanted your baby back. Also, Epel mentioned moving as though you have been moving either to his place or him to yours, or both of you to somewhere else, and you hadn’t. You felt the unbearable weight of a brick on your psyche, “Alright. Maybe for a middle name?”
“Yeah. Okay… You really don’t like Odette?”
“No.”
He nodded, then proposed, “Meemaw’s best friend, who passed away last summer, her name was Henriette.”
“Henriette Simone…” You mumbled. The world was swimming around you, but you blearily nodded, “There’s a cute nickname in there somewhere…”
“Yeah. Baby, you okay?” Epel asked.
He sounded like he was standing above water, and you were below it. You could hear him speaking, and it was clear enough if you focused, but it was also impossible to hear him speaking, and you couldn’t focus.
You longed to have your baby in your arms, though.
This will be most likely the last post about this accident, so I am going tell what happened and don't worry I won't go into detail about the pain if you don't like it well. Also if you don't want to read this, I don't blame you.
So, today, around 2pm, my cousins and I wanted to go around the village for a bit, which was fine, as I thought we were just going to walk, but no, we are going to drive which was fine. So after a minute or so they went slow and about the speed limit, but when everything was clear, this asshole decided to go over 120 km in a 50 KILOMETER ZONE, so we were speeding like a fucking rocket as I was screaming for them to slow the fuck down like normal people, but they pretty much said fuck you to me, and they went even faster, and once they stopped, I was like "PLEASE GO SLOWER!" and they were haha, Fran is so funny! LOL XD. so when they stopped for a minute I ran off the car, to get some breath as they said that they will go slower next time.
So that was a fucking lie as they went 170 MOTHERFUCKING KILOMETERS PER HOUR! And you know what was the worst part? They filmed me reacting like this... these assholes filmed me panicking inside of this vehicle and once they stopped, almost everyone saw me have near panic attack, which I never gotten until now, and the driver didn't slow down, which resulted in us crashing into a tree with the car upside down.
All of them are safe, except for my cousin whose back was hurting her so we had to call an Ambulance which I, my mom, my aunt and her had to go there to check up on if anything broke, which nothing was, thankfully. My shoulder is burning slightly less, but that is about it from the injures.
was feeling meh on watching the s2 premiere of euphoria but my friends really wanted me to watch so we could discuss
anyways, i am feeling inspired. will def be BORROWING HEAVILY from some of the casssie and nate scenes but here's what i'm thinking:
tw: speeding, toxic behavior, manhandling
1. y/n upset and sad, sitting on a concrete block in the parking lot of 7/11 eating those cheap powdery mini-donuts. a car rolls up, high beam headlights violently flashing. the person inside is no other than your bestie's very toxic on-and-off boyfriend. he goes inside and comes out with beer. his eyes drinking in the shortness of your dress, and the tear-rimmed eyes.
2. offers you a ride in his car. offers a ride to the party you're supposed to be at by now, but the way the words leave his mouth makes it sound like you really should be in his car.
3. 60 becomes 70 and 70 becomes 85 and 85 becomes- driving so fast in the road, and you're looking out the window, anxiety ridden. he looks at you often, undisturbed gaze. you don't know where you find the courage but you tell him (in a whisper really) "y-you're driving too fast" he chuckles, "am I?"
4. he's slamming you against the bathroom door, his mouth on your neck, pressing kisses with teeth and his greedy hands find purchase, groping all he can under that glitzy skimpy dress you had on. a voice rings out from the other side. someone you know (and he knows?) bangs against the door, and they recognize his voice when he growls "I'm fucking busy here." He had his hand smothering your mouth so you can't make a sound, "don't cry pretty girl...you haven't been caught yet." his hands still making rounds under your dress, and you're frozen to the ground. stuck on the spot and can't make a sound, can't shove or push because he's so tall and strong. and you're a dumb dumb girl tonight.
I see you small small man in a big big car, tailgating me even as I’m flirting with speeding on a winding country road. I see you. You don’t frighten me. You don’t threaten me. I see you when you overtake on double lines. I see you when you speed off with a finger tossed back at me. I see you, tiny man.
May you and you alone flip your car on a depthless dark night on a road very far from home. May you never see what you almost hit. A flash of eyes, a glimpse of white, the scream of brakes, the lurch. That’s all you get. May you hang there in your seatbelt, pinned and panicking, listening to the tick tick tick of the hot hot engine and waiting for the smell of smoke. May you wait there, trapped by your own hand, knowing hardly anyone comes down that road and you won’t be seen in the dark and morning is far, far away.
May you escape with only cuts and bruises and a totalled car, but the fear never leaves you. May it sink into your bones and follow you all of your life.
May this happen soon, before you hurt anyone. Before your selfishness takes something from the world. Before it’s too late.
seeking a new butch- my latest butch, Erin, tragically DIED after i made the “clutch move” of holding an air horn against his head while we were going 15 over on a dark county road. It’s sad that today’s “liberal” butches can’t take even a little sadism, the butches of my age were built tough. Sad!
