Chapter 174


    Arry doesn’te back, he texts from the airport and says he needs time to cool off and will call me


    when hends. I don’t bother replying and he doesn’t text again to see why I don’t.


    Heartbroken that he went and did the one thing he never does; walked out and left me when we are


    fighting the worst kind of fight. It feels like a betrayal, that he’s broken a promise and the way I am


    feeling, I want to hate him. Hating him for four days will be easier than missing him.


    I go to the kitchen and grab the ice cream from the freezer, eating so much I make myself throw up and


    theny on bed feeling about a thousand times worse. I despise that he can make me feel this


    deste, that when we argue he bes the one obsessive thought in my head, and I cannot


    function beyond it.


    Love sucks.


    Iy my hand on my stomach and flinch when I do, like an internal guilt filter kicks in and I find myself


    peering down the length of my body.


    “I didn’t mean it.” I say loudly, looking at the t expanse of stomach and then look away again refusing


    to acknowledge that I am even talking to it. I feel dumb, but I can’t shake the regret at telling it that Arry


    leaving was its fault.


    I know what it feels like to have someone who’s supposed to love you, hate you instead. I’m nothing


    like them. Even though I don’t want it, something in me feels like a shitty human for telling it this is it’s


    doing.


    I get frustrated with myself and try to shake the conflicting confusing thoughts out of my head and sit


    up. Still tear stained, still sniffing and ache for him, even though I hate him.


    I try to push down the nausea which swirls around me whenever it feels like it is peeking out and


    banish all thoughts of something growing inside of me away harshly, like I do every time my mind


    strays there.


    Don’t think it exists and it won’t be real. Ignore it.


    I notice my phone is lit up across on the bedside table and realize I left it on silent after I got his text. it’s


    been a long time since he left. An hour maybe. I don’t even know what time his flight was going out, so


    it might be him if he is sat in the departure area waiting. I get up slowly and wander over to it, seeing


    the list of missed calls and one text. All with little ‘Arry xXx’ symbols in a row.


    Despite myself I pick it up and open his text, bracing myself for a lecture or something harsh and inhale


    quickly to suppress my anxiety.


    I’m sorry. We need to focus oning home, everything feels like it’s hanging in mid-air and


    suspended while we are stuck there. I love you, Sophie. More than you know. Both of you. Don’t hate


    me, baby, I’ll call youter. Xx A


    It makes me feel shittier.


    I nce down at my stomach again with a pang of something I cannot put my finger on. I think it’s the


    fact he says he loves both of us, it does something to my insides. Tingly, weird feelings that make me


    feel instantly sick and I push it away. I put the phone down and rub my eyes in a bid to remove the


    overwhelm of emotions lodged in my chest.


    Fatigue and emotional exhaustion are crying for me toy down and take a nap and I can’t think of


    anything better. If I reply we will end up fighting, if I leave it alone, he won’t keep texting. He will leave


    me to have breathing room.


    I need some head space. I should use the next four days to get my act together, he’s right. I can’t keep


    on like this, refusing to face what’s real and what’s happening. Whether I like it or not, there is a little


    thing inside of me that is already growing. I have no clue how big or how much it resembles a tiny


    person yet. I know nothing of pregnancy other than how crap I have been feeling nonstop and how


    often I go from shivers to fever and the constant feeling of sickness. So far, I am not impressed with it


    and hope to god it changes soon.


    I’m losing him, I am losing us. If we keep on like this for another two months, then his threat might


    be a reality and I know this is all on me. Arry tries so hard to be what I need, to take care of me;


    it’s not his fault everything is falling apart inside of me. My dreams and hopes were pinned on Paris. It


    turned out to be the biggest mistake of my life in every way and I have never felt so alone as I do right


    now. Have done for the past two weeks even with him here. This is the peak of a shitty year and I don’t


    think it can get any worse.


    The reality is that deny it or not, I won’t be able to start in New York when term goes back in two and a


    half months. I’ll be almost four months pregnant, Arry will be a nightmare, I know him. I remember what


    Jake was like over Emma and as much as I want to say that Arrick and Jake are twopletely


    different people, they are not so far apart in certain things.


    Overprotective, overbearing and suffocating when they’re in carer mode. Bossy and controlling if he


    thinks he knows best. It will be another round of fights and for what? A couple of months before the


    school say I’m a danger and can’t go there anymore.


    I’ll waste my time there and fall behind. A whole year out is like wiping the te clean and I would be as


    well starting all over again. My Career won’t get off the ground at all. Before I get a chance, I’ll be elbow


    deep in diapers and bottles and have some little person clinging to me.


    What do I know about being a mom? About giving love and support to a little human?


    All I know is how not to be a mom. How to ignore my child suffering and not give a shit about anyone


    else, that’s what I learned from my birth mom. My adopted mom got me at fourteen when the mold was


    set.


    How do I know I will even be a good mom at all; maybe it’s not in me? I’m not maternal. I’m selfish and


    childish and like Arry says, a Princess most of the time who is too reliant on him for everything. Can’t


    fend for myself, so how in the hell am I supposed to fend for a small little creature? Who cries and can’t


    talk or tell me what it wants. How am I supposed to know what it wants?


    Panic rises in me, like it’s done a million times in the past couple weeks and I get angry once more at


    how pathetic I am. I’m a mess, a failure of epic proportions. A woman who can’t even get her head


    around something women are meant to do and have naturally, apart from me. I’m sweating in fear at


    the thought of something relying on me for any sort of survival at all.


    I’m not good at nurturing and letting people close. What if I end up like Emma’s mom? Some cold


    unfeeling woman who kept her child at arm’s length and didn’t bond? Who screws her kid up as bad as


    Emma was messed up before Jake? She’s told me extensively of the affects her mother had on her


    over the years, and her final absence in Emma’s life since she married Jake. Emma’s mom has not


    been in the picture at all, not even with the arrival of grandkids and even though she seems okay about


    it, I know Emma thinks of her.


    What if I am going to be that way? So cut off and unable to love anyone properly except Arrick. He’s


    the only one I ever let close, ever let under my skin properly in every way. Emma, I see as a guardian,


    but she still doesn’t get near the way he does. She doesn’t” know the half of the things I tell him.


    What if I can’t love it or let it love me? What if I am so emotionally fucked up that the maternal instinct


    doesn’t exist in me?


    I’m not normal. I’m broken, even though I have learned to function a bit more like everyone else. Deep


    down underneath it all, I am still that little kid who had to fight to stay alive. Who had to nk out her


    mind to endure being raped by her father repeatedly. She shows up when I am low when I am angry or


    upset. Sheshes out, she acts like an idiot when she’s in pain or defensive. She pushes people away


    and she runs. Every fucking time it gets too much, she runs. Whether physically, mentally, or


    emotionally. I’m doing it now, with him, with this. I’ll do it with my kid, and I will fuck it up the way I am


    fucked up.


    What if I hurt my baby?


    That same sense of impending doom and choking paralyzing terror grips me again and I can barely


    breathe. This is how it’s felt from day one, as things go around in my head. This is why I won’t stop and


    face the fact that there is a baby inside of my womb. I can’t let a baby have me as a mother. I can’t


    destroy an innocent little human that way. Arrick would dismiss this, tell me I am overreacting, but this


    is how I feel. This is what I believe about myself.


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    Arry is not on the same page as me, he’s all happy families and nning what pram to buy, while I am


    treading water to stay afloat. We don’t talk because it goes one way and that’s exactly like this morning


    did. It’s too raw, too upsetting, and too depressing. He would think me insane if I voiced any of this.


    I pace around and shake my hands in a very weird manner, but it’s calming me, helping me self-soothe


    and catch my breath. I need to stop thinking and let it go. Go to bed and sleep because I’m shattered


    and haven’t slept much in days. I’ll feel better. I’ll be saner and less emotional if I sleep it off. Then


    when I wake up, I can text him back and try to not kill each other while half a world apart and get my


    shit together for himing home. I need to give him a reason toe home to me. I want him to miss


    me, not be relieved that he’s not dealing with me for a few days.


    I climb into bed and curl up under the duvet with the intention of blocking it all out, switching on the TV


    in our room for some atmosphere. It’s too quiet when he’s gone and Jta won’t be up for a couple of


    hours.


    ***


    I must have fallen asleep fast, as I wake up in darkness with the smells of food wafting through the


    apartment and the faint sounds of music. That means Jta is in the kitchen and by the looks of it I


    have slept the entire day away. I must have needed it more than I realized, and I sit up groggy and


    lightheaded. I feel weird. Hot, but not like flushes hot. I’m feverish and the nausea is all consuming. My


    head is throbbing, and I am so thirsty my throat aches. My body is heavy and achy like flu or something


    and when I try to get up, I’m out of sorts.


    A sudden sharp pain in my abdomen knocks my breath away as I slide a leg down to the floor. I let out


    a muffled “Ahhh” noise loudly, and clutch at it before managing to straighten up and breath through


    what feels like a period cramp low down, only a lot duller. I haven’t had them for years, but memory


    reminds me within a second that’s what it feels like. A dull thud punch to the lower intestines and I


    really struggle to breathe through it.


    I grasp the bedside table to get my bearings and let my swimming head clear, satisfied when the ache


    moves across my abdomen sort of warmly and then dissipates. It feels like a pulled muscle and I


    wonder if that’s normal. I guess if my stomach grows then it has to be.


    I stand for a moment and blow out my breath, taking a second to let it subside fully before I carefully


    walk to the bathroom with the intention of running a bath. The thought of a steamy bath helping how


    crap I feel is all that’s on my mind. Still foggy headed from sleep as I pad barefoot on cold tiles.


    I catch my reflection in the mirror after I turn on the taps and grimace at the mess before me. Blotchy


    tear-stained and looking like a tragic reject from a horror movie. I haven’t really been putting effort into


    my appearancetely and my hair is a riot.


    I need to get my shit together, Arry is right. I’m stuck in suspended nothing, hoping to find a miracle


    cure to our predicament instead of focusing on what to do how to get through this and put ns in


    ce. No wonder he’s getting so fed up with this.


    I’m fed up with this.


    Arry is a nner, he likes to know what’s happening and how everything neatlyys out. He gets used


    to something quickly and adapts it into his life as quickly as possible, so he can process all of it. Likes


    all his blocks in a row and neatlybelled so he can get on with what is required of him. All I have done


    is hinder his ability to do that and it’s messing with his calm, while I’m missing any sort of it.


    More of a fall to pieces and bury my head in the worst way and ignore it kind of person, until something


    motivates me to make a change. This right here… Fighting with him so muchtely and having him


    actually walk out on me, something he hasn’t done in two whole years. This is enough.


    I’ll lose him if I keep pushing and pushing.


    Another stabbing pain hits me low in the gut and this time my knees buckle, and I end up half kneeling


    as I catch the vanity to stop myself from an all-out copse. I grunt this time with the intensity of feeling


    like something kicked me full force in the abdomen and try to breathe through the gnawing pain.


    I’m held rigid unable to catch my breath or move as it epasses my entire pelvis with a burning


    searing slice and twisting ache that brings tears to my eyes as I gawp weirdly. Knuckles turning white


    as I cling to a porcin rim.


    “Aghhh” is all I can let out before a warm flow of liquid soaks through my panties and slides over my


    inner thighs with the worst kind of sensation. It happens so fast, and it’s so excruciatingly painful that I


    cannot move.


    My heart stops, my everything instantly freezes as though I am on autopilot and looking down on reality


    in a dream state. I reach my hand down slowly to touch the wet liquid on my inner thigh and pull my


    fingers back up to see the evidence before me. It’s like time freezes and the pain in my body bes


    obsolete next to the pain in my heart and head. Shocked silence, terror, unlike I have never felt before


    as I bring my hands up to my eye level and begin to shake.


    “No… no… no… no.” It’s like someone up there listened really hard to how many times I said I didn’t


    want this and decided to deal with it all by themselves; except now that I see this on my hands, this hot


    red liquid that signifies the most awful thing in the world …I start screaming hysterically, wailing like I


    am being murdered, because my heart feels like it is.


    “JANETTA… JANETTAAAAAA…”