Your body is a weapon and it's is killing me, making me to bleed, and making me weak. getting me addicted to you, even though you are a poison in my hands. craving to be so close to you, even knowing that you are not the one for me. neither am i for...
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━━ I would never describe myself as someone who believes in folklore, such as if you smash a mirror, you will have seven years of bad luck, and so on. Last night was the first time I believed in such a thing, not because the mirror dropped out when I wanted to keep it to myself, but because I was overcome by a peculiar sensation in my stomach and my thoughts became dark.
I assumed that everything happens for a reason. But what is the reason now? I worried.
Matthew was in New York for three days, witnessing the first printing of his new children's book; he was supposed to return home today. I stayed in the apartment since, with the weather changing and my blood pressure fluctuating, a plane travel would not be good just now.
It is strange being in this place without him - it feels empty. When I do not hear the click of a keyboard as he works hard in the living room, I feel empty. I was so in love with him that I was worried when we were separated. We arranged at the end of the week to go to Las Vegas for a couple of days to show me where he grew up and what school he attended, so that next month, for our eight months of dating, I could take him to my hometown for a tour.
The bed, which was ordinarily little for us, now appeared enormous; the previous two mornings I had been eager to get out of bed as fast as possible, but today I couldn't. A dull discomfort in the lower abdomen, near the ovary, caused me to moan loudly and turn painfully on my side.
What is going on with me?
I reached all the way down between my legs to fix my pajama bottoms, but when I raised my hand, I noticed blood stains. When I saw it, I instantly unveiled myself and took off my white blanket, which was already discolored like my clothes. I was alone and afraid, and the fear that had already grown deep inside me was quickly taking over my entire body. I was alone and in excruciating pain down below.
Come on, Heaven, get up. The small voice in my head rang a hundred times till I got out of bed and went to the bathroom.
I did not think much about it; I showered and put on a sleeping pad before washing the bedding and pajamas, and then I dressed in a black sweatpants and a basic sweatshirt over a tank top. I quickly gathered my documents and car keys and drove to the nearest emergency room.
It felt as if I had died on that bed where I was resting, while waiting for the doctor on duty to arrive. The only thing I loathe more than my own father is the American health-care system.
