Isn't it confusing, what first love does to a man?
Story where Alexine is Soldier Boy's first love and rekindle after many years apart.
[UNGOING]
[Warnings; smut, angst, torture, mention of torture, trauma, physical abuse, mental abuse, verbal abuse...
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Alexine lay in a stark, sterile hospital room at the CIA's medical facility in Washington, its walls painted a clinical white that seemed to absorb the gravity of the situation. The room was furnished with the essentials: a neatly made hospital bed with white linens, a few metal chairs, and a small window that let in a muted, diffused light. The air was heavy with antiseptic and the low hum of medical equipment.
Dr. Harold Thompson, her physician for over twenty years, was now in his late sixties, with thinning silver hair and deeply etched lines on his face that spoke of decades of experience and compassion. He sat on a stool beside her bed, his expression a mixture of weariness and empathy. His words, though mumbled, seemed to echo through the silence of the room.
"Miss Dupont?" he asked gently, noticing her pale face and wide, unseeing eyes.
Alexine snapped her head toward him, a look of disbelief and desperation etched on her face. "How can I have a miscarriage? I can't get pregnant," she said, her voice trembling with confusion and denial.
Dr. Thompson sighed and adjusted his position, sitting down more comfortably. "It seems you can. Well, you could."
"No, no, no..." she laughed bitterly, her tone wavering with emotion. "You told me ten years ago that I couldn't get pregnant because of what the Nazis did to me!"
Indeed, in 1972, Dr. Thompson had informed her that the injuries she sustained at Dachau had rendered her womb incapable of carrying a child. For years, Alexine had accepted this diagnosis, believing motherhood was forever beyond her reach. The lack of pregnancy over the years only reinforced this belief. But medical advancements had moved forward, and the reality was different from what was once thought possible.
"I was wrong," Dr. Thompson said softly. "You are miscarrying, Alexine. The fetus was growing abnormally fast, and your blood results came back positive."
"Then stop it! Stop my miscarriage!" she cried out, but there was nothing to be done. The ultrasounds had revealed no heartbeat; her body had to endure the pain and the loss.
Dr. Thompson looked at her with a hint of sympathy, having witnessed her struggles with psychological issues, hallucinations, and various drug withdrawals over the years. "What's inside you now is no more than a heap of matter... it is dead, Alexine."
The words hit Alexine with a brutal finality. Life, once so fleeting and precious, was now reduced to an inanimate mass. The realization that she had indeed been pregnant with Soldier Boy's child—and that she had lost it—overwhelmed her. She hadn't been with another man in years, and the child had been his, she was certain of it.
"That's my child you're talking about..." Her voice cracked, tears pooling in her eyes. "A heap of matter?" Her frown deepened, struggling to grasp the cruelty of the situation.
"You're telling me it had a heartbeat, and it's now just a heap of matter?" she shouted, her fury and pain palpable. It felt as if life had been ripped away from her, leaving her gasping for breath in a void of sorrow. The miscarriage, though physically induced by the kick, was also a cruel consequence of the immense stress she had been under.
