When you tell the world you're mine

Part II, Chapter I: Althorp

Pain.

That's all she could feel.

The sort of pain that would irradiate from her body and made her wonder if anyone could see it, as its force was undeniably present.

She felt nothing but pain.

She could deal with the soreness on her body. It felt as if she had run a marathon.

She could also deal with the heavy cramps that she was feeling ever since she woke up. As if she needed any reminder of what had just happened. She hadn't asked for any medication to relieve her pain because she wanted to feel it. She wanted to be punished for what she had done.

What she couldn't deal with was the emotional pain that had destroyed her and its relentless waves that kept shaking every single thought that crossed her mind. The waves were like a tsunami that with it's violence and fast approach took away and destroyed everything it touched and she was drowning. Completely and willingly.

The waves made her remember everything that had happened a few hours ago.

The waves brought an emotional pain that shattered her dreams and hopes and wishes. Mocking her, showing the failure she had been. This earth-shattering feeling turned her world, mind, life and body upside down. She didn't even have more tears to cry as they had dried somewhere in the middle of the night.

She was alone as she had wanted to be and surrounded only by sounds. Sound of the machine she was hooked to, sounds of the clock that showed her that time was going to pass whether or not she was ready for it, the sirens of the ambulances coming in and out of the emergency ward and the cries of a new baby that was born just down the corridor from her room. She longed to having had the chance to at least listen to her child cry. To have carried her pregnancy to term and to taste the happiness this new mom was probably feeling at the moment. And yet, here she was. Empty handed, alone, bleeding and miserable.

She wanted to get up and run, possibly hide from everyone. Should she had the strength for it, she would have. But she could barely move a finger, let alone run.

She placed one hand on her belly. The same one she caressed the growing baby just the morning before, praying with all her might and force that everyone was lying to her. Wishing this all was a very bad joke, a tasteless prank. Everyone must be wrong.

But deep inside she knew it was true.

She knew that her body had been giving signs and she didn't pay attention to it. She worked and travelled as if she wasn't growing a tiny human inside her and now, funny enough, she really wasn't anymore.

Maybe it would be for the best? If she couldn't take proper care of a baby inside her, what would happen once the baby was born?

She would be better off alone and childless as she couldn't bear to be responsible for anyone else's death. She took a deep breath and felt every muscle hurt, her head was about to explode. She knew she couldn't speak as she had yelled until she scarred all of her vocal chords.

Her hands and arms were purple and swollen as she had tried to unhook herself from the blood transfer bag a nurse had hooked her to close to 2 in the morning. Her hair were in knots and her hospital gown was still bloodied.

Another proof of her failure and another brutal reminder that she had just lost her child.

She had lost her everything. She had lost her will to live because nothing else made sense anymore. Her unborn baby had become the centre of her life, her strength, her reason and her motivation.

Well, not really – her malicious mind reminded her, - if this baby was that important you wouldn't have let it die. You didn't even fight for it, you simply passed out and almost bled yourself to death.