Another Man's Treasure

6. Beautiful Crybaby

One Month Later

Madison~~

"I didn't do anything, Christian. I promise."

"You're a lying whore! I can't believe you right now. You wanted him didn't you?"

"You're hurting me please- please, I swear I didn't do anything. Nothing happened. Y-you can ask Rick yourself."

"Look at me... I said fucking look at me!"
"Tell me you love me. Say it Madison!"

"I- I love you."

A gasp emerges from my lungs, jolting me up from my slumber. Clenching hard onto the blanket. I wipe the cold sweat from my forehead. I look at my surroundings- realising that I'm in my cold room and not in my horrifying nightmare.
I run my shaky hands over my tired face, feeling the wetness from my eyes as well, trying not to think about that awful dream.

I hate it.

It's been haunting me for a while now and every time I wake up I find myself thinking more and more about him. I just want to forget about it all, but how can I when it makes me cry, makes me feel the constant pain and heartache he caused?

I can't.

I can't run away from him, because he's everywhere.

After what happened last month I decided to file a restaining order against him. My lawyer- Joe helped me with it. I just wanted to make sure that I knew what I was doing, I need to protect myself as best as I can.

But that's the thing, I don't think Christian is dangerous. I think he's lost.
Lost in the idea of me still being in his life. He's stuck on the past, and maybe so am I.

But I made it out at least. I'm free.

I got out of bed and head to the bathroom, but I caught a glimpse of myself in the tall mirror alongside the door. I have on a white tank top and I'm just in my black underwear, it was just so hot last night.
I couldn't help but cringe when I see the current state that I'm in.

I picked up some weight in the last few months.

Messy greasy hair.

Dark eye bags.

Chapped lips.

Pale and dull skin.

And how could I forget... the scar beneath my belly button.

I trace my fingers across the scar that's been imprinted on my stomach for two years. It's a constant reminder of how much I hate myself for what happened. It was all my fault.

The memory of holding my lifeless baby in my arms sent a triggering sob to escape from me.

She was only six months.

Just a little baby.

I will never get the chance to watch her grow up, or to teach her how to read and write, how to ride a bicycle, watch her blow out her candles every year, and to make sure that she knows that I love her.
I love a baby that doesn't exist and it kills me every damn day. I just try to suppress my emotions as best as I can but it really gets hard. It's hard to pretend that you're not dying in the inside.

I hope she's in a better place.

I hope she forgives me.

...and the others.

After the accident I had a total of two miscarriages, all in the first trimester.

Something that traumatic really fucks a person up, because that's what it certainly did to me. It destroyed me.