Shattered Vows

Denial

The morning light pierced through the room, and I stirred in bed, my body feeling weighed down by a deep exhaustion I couldn't explain. My stomach twisted violently, and before I could even think, I bolted upright, barely making it to the bathroom in time.

I collapsed over the sink, gripping the edges as nausea rolled over me in heavy, relentless waves. My head spun, and my whole body felt like it was working against me. I tried to breathe, but every gasp was met with another heave, my stomach empty but still churning.

When it finally stopped, I sank to the floor, my back against the cold tile wall, chest heaving as I struggled to catch my breath. I closed my eyes, waiting for the dizziness to fade, but something was wrong. This wasn't normal.

For days now, I had felt off—sick in the mornings, dizzy, my body betraying me in ways I didn't want to acknowledge. I had brushed it off, convinced myself it was just stress or a stomach bug, but today felt different. Worse.

As I sat there, my thoughts began to race, the gnawing fear I'd been pushing aside for days clawing its way to the front of my mind. My hands instinctively went to my stomach, and the realization hit me like a punch to the gut.

*What if I'm pregnant?*

The thought alone made me feel like I couldn't breathe. My heart pounded, my chest tightening as panic surged through me. No. That wasn't possible. It couldn't be. I pressed my hands harder against my stomach, as if the physical act would somehow prove it wasn't true.

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how blind I'd been. The symptoms, the sickness every morning—it all pointed to the one thing I couldn't face.

I shook my head, my vision blurring with tears. *No. No. No.* This couldn't be happening. It was impossible. I didn't want it to be true. *Not with him. Not with Marco.*

The thought of carrying his child made me feel like I was suffocating. A child with the man who had taken everything from me—my freedom, my choices, my life.

A sob escaped my throat, and I clamped a hand over my mouth, trying to hold it in, but the tears wouldn't stop. I cried harder than I had in months, my whole body shaking as the horror of what this could mean settled over me like a dark, suffocating cloud.

But after what felt like hours of sitting there, broken and afraid, something inside me snapped. I couldn't accept this. I *wouldn't* accept this. Not now. Not ever.

I wiped my face, the tears still burning my cheeks. *I'm not pregnant.* I couldn't be. This was just stress, or maybe the flu. People get sick all the time. That's all this was—nothing more. Just a temporary illness, a bug I'd caught.

I forced myself to stand, gripping the counter for support as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My face was pale, my eyes swollen and red from crying, and I barely recognized the girl looking back at me. I felt fragile. Broken.

But I wasn't broken. Not yet.

*I can't be pregnant. I won't be.* I repeated the words over and over in my head, like a mantra, willing myself to believe them.

I took a shaky breath, wiping my face with trembling hands. "It's nothing," I whispered to my reflection, my voice firmer this time, trying to convince myself. "Just a stomach ache. Maybe the flu."

Deep down, though, I wasn't sure I believed it. Because the truth was gnawing at the edge of my mind, dark and unrelenting, no matter how much I tried to push it away.

But I couldn't let it win. I wouldn't. I had to keep moving, keep going, keep pretending everything was fine—at least until I could figure out what to do next.

I wasn't ready to face the truth. Not yet.

After a moment, I pulled myself together, forcing my body upright and standing on shaky legs. I dressed quickly, slipping into something simple, and tried to ignore the heaviness in my chest as I made my way downstairs for breakfast. Usually, Marco was already waiting for me. I had to be at the table by exactly 8 a.m., or there would be punishment. No excuses. It was his rule, like so many others that governed my existence in this house.

But today, when I reached the dining room, Marco wasn't there. In fact, he hadn't even been in bed when I woke up. I silently thanked God for that small mercy. Not seeing him was the only relief I could grasp these days.

A couple of the maids moved around, setting the table and tidying up. I approached one, trying to keep my voice steady. "Do you know where he is?"

The maid stiffened, her face remaining carefully blank. "No, Miss."

I swallowed, feeling my pulse quicken with unease. Marco usually leave without making it painfully clear where he was going, He doesn't tell anyone where he'd be going, or when he'd be back. "Do you at least know what time he left?"

The maid glanced around nervously. I could see it in her eyes—the warning, the fear. They weren't allowed to tell me anything. Marco had drilled that into them, just like he'd drilled fear into me. But I couldn't let it go. "Why do you work for him?" I asked, my voice tight. "He's a literal monster. You don't have to obey him."

Her expression softened for a split second. There was regret in her eyes, something almost sincere, before she quickly masked it. "He's been good to me," she said quietly.

"Good?!" I snapped, my voice rising with disbelief. "You call this good? Have you seen what he's been doing to me?" My throat tightened as tears welled up, threatening to spill over. "Do you even care?"

Her face tensed, the regret vanishing as she steeled herself again. "No, I haven't seen anything," she said flatly, before turning away and walking off with a plate in her hand, disappearing back into the kitchen.

I stood there, feeling a hollow ache in my chest. Of course. No one in this house would ever tell me the truth. They were all trapped, just like me, but too afraid or too loyal to do anything about it.

I sank into the nearest chair, my hands flying up to my head as I ran my fingers through my hair in frustration. "Fuck!" I muttered under my breath, glaring at the empty room. "Is everyone in this damn house psycho?"

My head fell into my hands, and I stared blankly at the table, trying to breathe through the panic crawling up my throat. I had no idea where Marco was, or when he'd be back. But for once, the thought of him not being here gave me a small glimmer of peace.

Just for today. I could pretend that everything was normal.

But deep down, I knew I was only fooling myself.