Beating For Two

Chapter 34

Thursday, May 5th

Thirty-seven weeks and three days

It was only typical that after my hormones had been behaving rather nicely for quite a long time, they would hit me again with full force forty minutes before we were set to leave to see the adoption agency-people. Nothing emotionally triggering had happened that day or the previous one, so when I stood in front of my closet, busy searching through it for a t-shirt that at least looked a little less ratty and disgusting than the ones I usually wore, and a wave of hopelessness and sadness all of a sudden washed over me, it came as quite a big surprise. I let my arms fall to my sides, all energy seeming to have left me, and looked into the mirror, catching the sight of the reflection of my naked upper body.

And that was all it took.

It hit me how incredibly fat and disgusting I'd gotten, and I started crying – big, fat tears rolling down my cheeks and with a highly miserable and pathetic grimace contorting my face. Without even bothering to put on a shirt, instead grabbing a blanket from the bed and wrapping it around my shoulders, I walked out of the room, my steps feeling strangely dejected, as if I'd let someone down. The door to Harry's room was open and to my joy, frustration, happiness, desperation, glee and sadness, I saw him in the midst of picking out an outfit, just like I had been half a minute prior, and of course he wasn't wearing anything but a pair of black boxer briefs.

I was still crying and I was still feeling as miserable as ever, and so I tried to ignore his semi-nakedness and decided to walk in there anyway.

He looked up from the two shirts he was holding in his hands when I walked hesitantly over the threshold, and for a quarter of a second he smiled, but it faltered almost immediately and was replaced by a worried frown.

“What's wrong?” he asked, dropping both the shirts to the floor and taking a step closer to me, apparently not at all concerned with the fact that he was rather exposed in his current outfit.

“You're not sick, are you?” he continued before I'd had the time to say anything. “Is there something wrong with the baby? Are you okay? Wait, you're not in labour, are you? Should I go call-”

“No! I'm not in labour!” I interrupted, shouting and stomping my feet to the ground as more tears sprung out of my eyes. “I'm just fat and gross and don't you fucking dare tell me I'm not, because I am, and I know it!”

He stood there completely quiet for a moment, looking rather dumbstruck by my sudden outburst, before he shook his head and smiled gently. “You're being crazy, Lou.”

That was definitely not the right thing to say.

“Oh, so I'm crazy, is that it?” I hissed, glaring at him. “Well, fuck you then, Harry, because it's your sperm's fault that I am crazy! It's your fault, it's all your fault! It's your fault that I'm fat and it's your fault that I'm crazy, and I don't wanna be fat and crazy because no one wants people who are fat and crazy! And I'm a freak too, who may or may not have a fucking uterus up my ass! How the hell you managed to find that uterus with your dick is beyond me, but it's definitely your fault! I was just standing there on all fours and didn't have that much of say in what was going on, so everything is your fault, Harry, and I hate you!”

My breath came and went in rapid heaves by the time I was done screaming at him and my entire body was trembling with equal parts anger and desperation, but no matter how angry I felt, I still had the presence of mind to remember that I could not get worked up like this unless I wanted to collapse in a fit of gut wrenching pains. With that in mind, I wrapped the blanket tighter around myself, looked to the floor and swallowed. Harry didn't say anything, seeming to understand what I was doing, but I saw his bare feet shifting a little, as if he was nervous.