𝐼𝑁𝑁𝑂𝐶𝐸𝑁𝐶𝐸 𝐿𝑂𝑆𝑇 // 𝐴. 𝐷𝐸 𝑅𝑈𝑁𝐸

𝑋𝑋𝑉𝐼𝐼

| XXVII. Rotten Is the Fruit of Your Womb |

—

Marion gently ran the working-fingers of her right hand through Hugo's hair, the boy slept soundly with his head on her chest, a makeshift cloak wrapped around them both. The cloak was crudely made, just a woolen blanket with two holes ripped into it so rope could be threaded through to secure it. But, it did its job and kept her warm, so Marion had no complaints.

It had been a full day since Amicia left. Marion was trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her gut– Amicia promised to come back. But, as the minutes and hours passed, Marion only grew more worried.

Arthur and Rodric were outside; she made them promise to keep watch for their friends after they dragged her inside... Arthur, in particular. He called her 'Stubborn as a mule' when she insisted on staying outside, even when her lips turned blue. It was foolish, really, risking her health like that... but, one tends to do foolish things for love.

The silence, as always, gave her time to think. The past few weeks have been strange... her mind felt off, and so did her body– in more ways than one. Before having the strange dreams, she didn't notice anything different, but now... something just didn't feel right. Ever since the Macula–or what she presumed to be the Macula–began to attack her system for the second time, and the veins began to show, she had started to make an assumption about what was happening.

She really didn't want it to be true– but why else would the Macula have traveled down to her womb of all places? Why else had– in a single day–her breasts began to ache, and belly bloat up ever so slightly? It was all strange, it was supposed to be too early to even notice anything. But it was happening– and she was noticing. None of it made sense, it made her head-ache and belly churn. The thought of being pregnant? Lord, it made her want to throw herself off of the highest point in the Château.

Did her mother feel this way before her? The utter disgust of knowing there was a foreign body inside her own– a foreign body that was part of the man who'd done unspeakable things to her? She couldn't feel it yet, but she just... she just knew. It was there, and the Macula was too.

"Hey, you alright?" Mélie called out, "You look like someone stole your sweet roll..."

Marion wanted to laugh, she really did, but her lungs felt like they were constricting in her chest. Not even Hugo's steady breathing could calm her– she subconsciously held onto him just a bit tighter, her hands shaking lightly.

"I..." She tried to speak, but her voice got caught in her throat. Her breathing began to pick up– she felt like she was drowning...

"Hey... hey, are you alright?" Mélie asked, and when she got no response, she gently transferred Hugo to the straw mat and out of Marion's lap.

Marion coughed and sputtered– she couldn't get any air in, in the first place, yet her body was trying to push it all out. Her eyes were wide and teary, now she was in a state of full blown panic. Mélie's voice had turned muffled, the world around her going fuzzy... When her world cleared up, she found that Mélie was gently squeezing her biceps, a look of concern on her scarred face.

It took a moment for Marion to catch her breath, and orient herself. Hugo was still asleep, Rodric and Arthur outside... she could breathe, but it hurt to do so.