Baby

fiveteen

My stomach was cramping; badly.

Curling up in bed, I tapped my man's shoulder. He woke with a start, and quickly scanned the room. I often, now especially, hated his gangster habits.

"What's wrong Baby?"

"My stomach hurts real bad."

He murmured out a curse before scooping me up in his arms. I cried out in pain the whole time he was moving me. Taking the elevator to the ground floor, I felt my body heat up all over and get weak. I just wanted to lie down on a cool mattress and pray the pain would pass. My man drove me to the hospital and told one of his employees to guard the apartment until we got back.

"Baby, its going to be okay. We're going to sort you out yeah. Okay."

I was in a daze when we got to the hospital. I felt like I had a fever, and I was shaking all over. I felt something sticky between my legs but I brushed it off as sweat. When my man tried to help me stand, I saw it.

The blood covered me. It was all over.

A scream ripped through my throat like lava, I couldn't stop the piercing pain. My head pounded but in that moment, I didn't care. I didn't care about anything. Crumbling to the floor, I felt my heart sink like a rotten apple to the center of the earth.

"Shit. Baby, look, I know. I know it hurts, a lot, okay. But I need you to stand for me, we need to get you into the hospital."

Lashing out, I swung my arms to hit anything nearby. The madness was consuming me. I felt everything I've ever felt for the last few months completely drain out of me. All the anxiety, all the depression, the long nights, the happiness, the comfort. It drained away and left place for rage.

"You!"

I turned my accusing stare on him. I turned my hate on him.

"You did this! You did this to me!"

By now we had attracted the attention of the ER staff, and they were rushing to help me into the hospital. I fought. I fought them, I fought him, I fought myself.

Eventually, the exhaustion succeeded and I slumped to the floor.