band-aids don't fix bullet holes

{17} would've, could've, should've

TW: Physical abuse, mentions of blood

Taylor's POV:

About eight weeks later...
16th August 2021

I'm exactly 14 weeks pregnant today. Joe and I haven't talked about the pregnancy since the day I told him. I think he assumes that I've gotten the abortion already. He has been pretty busy too, which I'm glad about to be honest. Of course there have been a few hits here and there and some unconsented sex, but nothing I'm not used to.
It has been easy to manage Dr. Montgomery's visits without him knowing and she says the baby is developing just fine. The little miracle inside of me is the only thing keeping me going right now, it's the only thing that makes me want to survive Joe's outbursts.

"Have you taken care of that fucking pregnancy?!" Joe suddenly asks as I stumble out of the bedroom and in the hallway of the first floor, where he seems to have been waiting for me.

"I told you I wasn't gonna do anything about it." I reply confidently but my confidence fades when he grabs me by the shoulder and slams me against the wall.

"I'm not gonna be a Dad, Taylor!!" The actor states through gritted teeth. "It's your fault we're in that mess, so it's your job to take care of it! Fucking hell!"

I don't dare to open my eyes when I feel his breathing on my nose.

"You leave me no choice..." He shakes his head.

I didn't realize how close to the stairs we were standing until he gives me one push and I find myself crashing down the stairs.
When I reach the floor I have a hard time staying conscious, I hear some muffled words form Joe and no seconds later my eyes flutter shut. Everything goes black.

When I gain consciousness again, the house seems to be empty. It takes me a moment to adjust to the light that's flodding through the windows of the living room and right into the hallway, where I'm still lying on floor, unable to move. Everything hurts. My hand immediately rushes to my stomach, where a small bump has been forming over the last weeks, and I tense up entirely.
"Oh my god..." I mumble, afraid of what might have happened to the baby.
I try to get up but the stabbing pain coming from my ribs is making it quite difficult. Tears are rolling down my face at the action, but I need to get up. I need to get help. I've had enough. Maybe I deserve what Joe is putting me through but my child definitely doesn't. My chest tightens as I realize that my boyfriend really tried to kill this baby, his baby, with his own hands and only now I recognize the blood streaming down my legs, soaking into the fabric of my short pyjama pants.
"NO, NO,NO!" I scream helplessly, wrapping my arms around my belly before making my way to the living room, in order to get my phone. I'm glad I didn't take it upstairs with me when I went to bed yesterday, because I don'think I would have made it up the stairs in this condition. I'm aware that I can't just call an ambulance, since that would create too much of stir outside my house. I hesitate for a second, before dialing a number.

"Hey Tayy, whats's up? I haven't heard fr-" The woman exclaims from the other side of the line, before I interrupt her.

"Blake, I need help! I...I...I don't know what to do! There 's blood...I...it hurts!" I sob muddled, trying to control my breathing.

"Hey, hey, slow down, Tay. I'm here. What's wrong?" Blake immediately asks in a worried tone but all I manage in response are some muffled cries.
"You mentioned blood...do you need medical help, Taylor?" She specifies her question.

"Yeah..." I get out between tears. "I can't call an ambulance, the whole world will know."

A few seconds of silence follow.

"Can't Joe get you to the hospital?" My friends words finally flow through the phone again.

"I...no...it's...he's not here.."