The Way Back

Chapter 2

Warning: This chapter contains sensitive material. You should be able to figure out what it is by reading the first line. If you are not comfortable with it, please skip to the bottom for a summary.

TRIS POV

I didn't know I was pregnant.

I mean, I guess I am extremely unobservant. I suppose I should have noticed the signs: my distended midsection that was disproportionally overweight compared to the rest of my body, my exhaustion, my desperate need to eat...

And Tobias's words: This isn't just about you, remember? You're not just keeping yourself safe by leaving.

It is apparent now that he was referring to our unborn child, not my mother. It should have been obvious when he placed his hand on my stomach that he was doing it in a protective manner, not groundlessly.

Factoring out the dream, I was oblivious to the fact that something about my body was off. I don't believe I need my memory to be able to realize what should come naturally.

I do not know if knowing that I was pregnant ahead of time could have saved the baby—I was going to suffer from malnutrition out here anyway—but I set all the blame on my shoulders the moment I discover what is happening to me. I am the mother, after all. I was supposed to protect this baby, and I failed.

I finally registered that something was wrong when I experienced painful cramping in my abdomen. Then I saw the blood. And then I was forced to deliver a stillborn all by myself.

So here I am now, curled up in my little corner, sobbing, with the baby I never knew about tucked in my jacket in my arms.

I didn't—couldn't—get a good look, but I glimpsed long enough to know that the baby was a girl and that I was probably halfway along. She was so small...

Stop. I cringe and pull her closer to me, willing my mind to quiet down and end the torture it is putting me through with all the overthinking.

Wait, no. Torture me. Punish me. Something is wrong with me. I wasn't able to keep my own daughter alive, and I don't deserve any moment of peace.

As far as I know, this is the first time I have had to deal with a traumatic event, and I don't think I will ever be the same again after this. I am gutted, hollow, appalled.

My daughter is gone.

And it is my fault. My body rejected her.

The cries sounding from my throat turn into a dreadful moan when I think about her father. Oh God, what am I going to tell Tobias? Dealing with losing a child is brutal enough, but saying it out loud to someone who cared just as much would break me.

Trembling from an unimaginable amount of agony, I try to get my breathing under control, worried that I might pass out. The lightheaded feeling that stemmed from losing so much blood worsens every second as I hyperventilate.

Nothing can pacify me. I lost my child. And now that I think about it, I shouldn't be calm anyway.

If this is what life has to offer, all this death and destruction and misery, then I don't want it, I think as I rock us back and forth. It leads me to decide that if Tobias is dead and there is nothing else left for me in this cruel world, no generosity and no answers, then I won't have to stay here.