She thought she’d been prepared. What a fool she was, to think she could do this on her own. Stupid, stupid girl. If she hadn’t been in such a dark place, she might have laughed at the magnitude of her own idiocy. At the moment, she didn’t think she’d ever laugh again. Wasn’t even sure she’d survive.
The pain was worse than anything she’d ever experienced in her life. Like a hand that had been thrust into her body, grasping at the very core of her, pulling and tearing until she was turned inside out. She screamed and panted and cursed. She writhed on her bed, crying uncontrollably, wet with sweat and twisting in the sheets. She’d sought relief on the floor, the hardwood cool against her face. She tried lying in a bathtub full of warm water, like she’d read in the books. Nothing helped. The pain only worsened as the night wore on. It became part of her, a vicious and unrelenting thing, beating her down, until she lay still, staring into the darkness, saving her breath for the next onslaught.
She’d never felt so alone. She’d never been so scared. Oh, how she wished he were here with her. Between the waves of pain, she talked to him. She cried for him; told him how much she loved him. How much she missed him. Then another surge engulfed her and she wished, not for the first time, that she was the one who’d died instead of him.
Twice, she almost called for an ambulance. Anything to end the suffering. Then she thought of her dad. How disappointed he’d be. She thought of her friends and how they would look at her if they knew. She thought of those who would never be her friend and she knew they’d turn this into something it wasn’t. None of them would understand. She had to get through this. Alone.
An earthquake of agony tore through her. She bit down on the cloth between her teeth. She gave in to the urge to bear down. She pushed hard. Gave it her all. She just wanted it out of her body. She wanted this to be over. She wanted it gone so she could get on with her life.
Oh, God! Oh, God!
A final push. Animal intensity. Muscles quivering. Primal sounds squeezing from her throat. Sweating and grunting like a beast. The cruel fist clenching and tearing low in her belly. Her eyes fluttered. Her vision went dark. For an instant, she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t hear but for the buzzing inside her head.
The pain shifted and eased. She sucked in a breath. Her senses returned. For an instant, she lay there, panting and exhausted, trying to absorb the magnitude of what she’d done.
After a moment, she sat up. A sob tore from her throat when she saw the bluish, bloody mass. A dark shock of hair matted with blood. Tiny hands and feet moving. Wrinkled red face. Little mouth mewling like a kitten.
She should have anticipated the blood. Warm and wet and slick on her skin. Bright red and shimmering against the floor. The sight of it terrified her anew. Not because it had come from her body, but because she didn’t know how she would get it cleaned up before someone discovered her secret.
Panic nipped at her with sharp teeth. She’d read all the books; she knew what to do. Hands shaking, she grasped the scissors. Not thinking, not letting herself feel, she snipped.
More blood.
Another cry.
And the final tie was severed.
* * *
The bishop dreamed of repairing the fence. The one on the south side of the pasture that had been kicked last spring by that rambunctious bay colt, knocking the third rail off the post. His wife had been after him to fix it for weeks now. He’d never admit it, but it was getting harder and harder to keep up with all the chores around the farm these days. Kneeling, he set the bubble level atop the board, set the nail against the wood, and let the hammer fly with a satisfying whack!
Tap. Tap. Tap .
The old man startled awake. Disoriented, he sat up, listening, unsure what had roused him. A noise outside his window? One of the animals? He glanced over at his wife,
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