𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭

21

[tw: mentions of miscarriage]

I won't let you go this time, Eurydice.

Not even death can take you from me.

The moment you woke up, you felt hollow.

It took a great deal of effort to open your tear encrusted eyes, your achy arms brushing them away. Bandages constricted your forearms in a swath of white cloth, the skin underneath scraped raw. Even your ribs hurt, a plodding, throbbing pain in your abdomen that reverberated throughout the rest of you. You let out a heaving sigh, trying to sit up and survey your surroundings.

Predictably, you were in the hospital, one of your legs propped up in a sling. The room was bone white, with nothing but a painting of a bridge and a vase of wilting flowers. The TV flickered softly with static. There was a chair next to your bed, a primly dressed woman sitting in it with a book cracked open on her lap.

Was that Priyal?

She looked up at the sound of movement, the scratchy sheets working against you. "Oh, [name]." Priyal was gorgeous as always, dressed in a crisp, maroon suit, her hair slicked back and clipped. A small briefcase sat next to her. Her roseate lips curved into a tentative smile as she looked you up and down, appraising. "You're awake. You gave Yates quite the scare."

You groaned, a hand going to your stomach. Your throat was dry as dust.

"Water?" you managed to croak out.

Priyal's brows raised as she rose, almost apologetic. "Of course. Here." She uncapped some bottled water and handed it to you. You guzzled it down in minutes.

"The baby?"

The brunette sat back down. "Right. Well, one of your ribs fractured and your leg broke. Obviously. And just body aches in general, because you fell four stories. Uh– what else? Right, your arms, ribs, and stomach received most of the impact. The baby.." she cleared her throat, looking away.

"Is it gone?" You were almost ashamed at the hopeful note in your voice.

It was cruel. You were cruel. And yet– what fucking choice did you have? You would rather have the baby die than have to birth him into an oppressive home where his father did nothing but breathe down his back and hold his own mother prisoner. You'd rather a dead baby than a completely alive and aware and miserable baby. Your body seemed to shudder in fear at the thought of Yates cradling your child, putting him to his bare chest and cooing, as if he was the perfect father instead of a cold blooded murderer.

The sheer possibility that you could bring a child into the world that became a second Yates Abdi? That made you even sicker.

"You miscarried during the coma. I'm sorry for your loss."

You breathed in relief, hand leaving your stomach. Good, you thought fiercely. There would be no one else for Yates to hurt, other than you. And you'd gladly bear bruises and falls if it meant that the child would be safe from him. "How long has it been?"

"Around a week. Your brain activity is remarkable, though. I think you have nothing to worry about."

You sank back into the bed, shutting your eyes. The imprint of the LED lights glimmered in your eyelids as you took a relieved breath. "Oh my god." The attempt wasn't exactly successful but if you got rid of the baby and kept Yates from getting in your pants for a month or three, you'd consider it well-executed.

Though you probably weren't getting balcony access for a while.

"Where is Yates?"

Priyal played with a curl of her hair, spilling over her shoulders in a dark waterfall. She was the picture of composure. "Oh, you caught us at a bad time. He just went home to shower."

You bolted up. "Really?" Your hands curled into a prayer, muttering soft thanks. "Oh. Oh good." You turned your gaze onto Priyal, not missing the way that she flinched away. "You know, don't you."