When I wake up I have wires connected to my chest and an IV Â running through my left arm. I feel naked, and a bright light blinds me as I am laying on a stiff bed with stiff sheets. I am in a hospital. My breath smells like vomit, my hair and face are greasy. I am sweating and covered in goosebumps.
âWhat happened?â I say aloud even though I am not sure there is anyone in the room.
âChristina? Christina can you hear me?â says a man.
âYes. What happenedâ I repeat.
âOh Christina I was so worried. I thought I had lost you. They did everything they could do save Micah but it was too late.â
Micha. My aching arms slowly move across my stomach. Agony pierces through my body when I press down and feel nothing but the flat surface of my abdomen and a fresh c-section scar. Micah is gone. I did this. What was I thinking? How could I have failed?
The man in the room, my husband Myles, is still talking. I zoned out, I do not know exactly what he is crying over. Is it me? Micah? Suddenly he stops and begins to yell at me.
âThis is your fault! You selfish bitch. How could you? How could you put our child in danger all because you had a shitty day. I will never understand you. I thought you had gotten over whatever fucked up things happened to you and moved on. Youâre a murderer! You killed our son!â
âLeave.â is all I can manage to say. It is flat and cold. He leaves and does not come to visit me again.
I am in the hospital for two more weeks. After having my stomach pumped and healing from my c-section I spend a few days in the psych ward so that some âholier than thouâ piece of shit could tell me how I feel. He was wrong. I am not upset about Myles. Fuck him. For months now I wasnât even sure how I felt about him. Depression can make you fall out of love very easily. I could care less about how he feels.
When I am finally released, I take a cab home. Myles refused to come pick me up, he said he was âbusyâ. But when the cab pulls up to our cozy two-story suburban home with a perfect yard, Mylesâ car is in the driveway. âGreat.â I say to myself, âThis should be interestingâ.
âHello? Iâm home. Myles, are you hereâ?
âIâm upstairsâ is the only response I hear.
I put my bags down by the door and slowly walk upstairs. Myles is standing in Micahâs room looking down into an empty crib. When he hears me knock on the door, he turns and looks at me like he is truly disgusting in the monster that I have become. After absorbing this look, I decide that I donât need to take his shit right now so I turn around and begin to walk out of the room but he grabs my hand as I turn and pulls me closer to him. As he talks to me in a low angry voice his grip on my arm grows tighter until I can feel my skin oozing between the gaps in his fingers. I begin to complain and he hits me. He slaps me across the my face and pushes me onto the floor. He digs his knee in my back and bends down to slowly whisper in my ear.
âI have wasted so much time with you. We both know that you are incapable of loving anyone including yourself. You are an empty piece of shit and it should have been you that died instead of my son. Do not fuck it up this timeâ.
With his last sentence, I immediately knew what was going to happen. I tried to army crawl my way to the door but his knee was still lodged into my back. Standing over me he pulls down his pants and being to stroke himself.
âYou are going to give me a son whether you like it or not. If you donât like this, you only have yourself to blame. You shouldnât have fucked it up the first timeâ.
Myles pulls me up by my arms and slams me against the wall. With one hand he holds my throat against Micahâs wall and with the other he continues to prepare himself. He yells at me to take my pants off. I try to unbutton my jeans but the pressure I am feeling against my throat is making me panic so my fingers fumble with the button. He slaps me again, this time he hit me so hard my nose starts to bleed a little. Myles roughly unzips my jeans and pulls them down to my ankles. He grabs a fist full of my hair and slams my face into the floor. Holding me down by my head with one hand, he shoves his dick into me. At first it hurts. My body wasnât ready for sex. I let out a small scream that was muffled by the carpeting. Myles begins to moan as he continues to violently shove his dick inside of me. Eventually I begin to get wet and it doesnât hurt as bad. I donât make a sound and I donât try to fight him. My stiff legs loosen and I spread my feet apart. I let it happen. As I begin to taste blood in my mouth I realize that this is what I deserve and I begin to enjoy it. When Myles starts to slow his breathing, I know he is going to cum soon so I let myself enjoy it more. When he cums he makes sure to stay inside of me a little longer than necessary, making sure that not an ounce of sperm was wasted on the floor. He gets up and goes into the restroom and I lay on the floor and begin to cry.
pixelskylines
amandla
