The Boy with the Whiplash Tattoo

Thirty nine

It's hard to describe. Losing something you never really had or even wanted in the first place. You feel like you have no right to be this devastated, or to feel so empty inside. And yet you do, and nothing you try makes it any better. 

I spend all day in bed now, either asleep or in a weird sort of haze, so tired from the voice in my head. It blames me, and him, and the angel of death who's face looks like my mothers. All night I lie awake staring at the ceiling with my arms wrapped tight around my belly as if i can wish the baby back. 

Aaron is different. He is always there, checking if I'm okay, asking if I need anything, begging me to take care of myself. And yet, he doesn't meet my eye anymore, and he doesn't touch me the same, as if he's afraid my skin will shatter like glass and stab him till he bleeds.

Dad left days ago, clearly unable to deal with all the excessive emotion in the house. My mother is attentive and falsely sweet, but her smile is smug and everything she does screams 'I told you so.'

"Camilla."

I keep very still, hoping she'll go away. She bends down and I can feel her hot breath against my cheek.

"I know you're awake."

I groan softly and turn away.

"Go away."

"You smell child. Come let me run you a nice bath."

"No."

"You can't stay like this. No one wants a wife who can't take of herself and keep clean." She grabs my wrist lightly, pulling me gently. 

"I don't care what he wants!" I yank my arm away and sit up. "When is someone gonna ask what I want?! Maybe I wanted a little baby girl! Maybe I wanted a life besides being a wife!" I take a deep breath as tears stream down my face. "Maybe I wanted a mother who loved me instead of calling me a liar for most of my life and forcing me to marry my best friend!"

I'm gulping for air now, my face growing red as i struggle for oxygen, my fingers bunching the bed sheets into my fists. 

One thought is clear in my mind, and everything else falls away, and for a second I feel at peace. 

She has to go and she can never come back.

"What are you talking about you stupid girl?!" the pretence is gone. She isn't pretending anymore. Her face curls into the ugliest snarl I've ever seen, and her eyes are narrow slits above her flared nostrils. "Aaron is the best thing I've ever done for you. You'd be nothing without both of us. And nothing took that baby from you except your own stupidity." Her voice grows louder and louder, until i hear Aaron's feet on the stairs, and his concerned voice call up them. 

But the blood is rushing in my ears now, and the last thing I need is for someone to save me. If he gets in my way he will also feel my wrath.

"Leave." I say quietly, dangerously, and even I can't tell what I'll do if she doesn't obey.

"Don't you speak to your m..."

"You are not my mother anymore!" for a second I swore I could see pain flash across her face, but surely I'm mistaken. Her arm twitches as if she's about to hit me, but I don't even care if she does.
"Leave now!" I get up, press my hand against her back and push her towards the door.

"Fine," she sounds flustered now, unsure how to respond, maybe even scared. "I'll give you some time to..."

"No. Get out of my house. Don't ever come back. Don't speak to me ever again. Stay out of my house and my life and my marriage. I don't want or need you."

Her mouth opens and closes but no words come out. Her eyes are wide as an owl's and I have the sudden urge to laugh at her. I keep pushing her towards the stairs, growing more forceful as she begins to resist me.

"Aaron! Get my mum's things! She is leaving."

He scurries down the stairs in front of us, but I catch the grin that flashes across his face as he turns away.

I take her bags from him, open the front door and throw them out onto the street. I shove her after them. 

"Goodbye Mother," I say sarcastically, and slam the door behind her.