I can still remember six years ago, that
night. The pain I felt, a crawling and clawing pain that made me so weak I
could barely breathe. My stomach hurt a lot. I didn't want him to know that I
was pregnant. He was going through a lot. His masters degree, his business, his
dream… I didn't want to mess that up for him, so I waited. I waited long enough
to make my silence hurt me, hurt me longer till it became physical.
This pain started like a cramp, but
deeper. lower. like it came from smoewhere that did want to be touched, not too
soon.
At first
thought i could breathr through it - the way i did during period pain.
But this... this had claws.
I
laid on my bed helpless, hands holding on tight to the bed sheet that I later
grabbed closer to me like the harder I grabbed, the lesser the pain.
I began breathing sharply imagining the
pain moving out of my stomach like air. My sweat all over my body and the bed
sheet like – enough to fill a cup. Groaning would make the pain worse. I did it
and it didn't help so I tried to breath as normal as I could , but my breathe
became even more shallow.
Help… I needed help, but there was no one
around. I couldn't walk down stairs. My apartment is at the third floor of the
building – barely remember the name of my neighbours. Even if I did, how loud
of a sound could my weak throat emit.
I weakly looked at my sides, nothing. No
one. My phone, absent.
I could start reciting a prayer, I could
start calling to God to help me out of this misery. I wanted him to have a
smooth ride through his life that I started to think, "what will happen to him
if I die here? Will he be able to carry on alone?"
I could've called prayed to God, but I
whispered his name, "Damson," repeatedly through my hoarse breath. His name was
the last breath until I lost all sense. My world darkened.
It felt like a second after I blacked
out. I woke up to meet myself on the bed. Still there. Still silent. Still
helpless. The pain had subsided, and my temples pulsating like a heart would.
My abdomen too.
I felt a cold sticky sensation in my
things. It was too much, definitely not sweat. I gradually lift my left hand
onto my thigh and rubbed. This liquid has thickened from contact with air. I
already knew what it was.
It took me a while before I tried to see
it. I couldn't help but let the tears out, I pressed my lips against each other
blocking the loud moan inside of me. As I did this, it burned my heart. I
forced in a deep breath, another. Then I raised my hand.
Blood. Thick. Clotted.
I used my right hand now, rub in-between
my thighs. It was as if it were poured in-between my legs. Too much blood.
I forced myself up to see… I knew what
this meant.
Helpless, i held my legs shut like it
would undo the bleeding.
That night was the worse I have ever had.
One I would never wish for an enemy. One I wished Desmond knew about.