“To find that out, you need to undergo those tests they mentioned after the attack two years ago. You do that whenyou’reready,” he reassures me.
“What am I going to t-tell Xander?” I wail. I can’t stop crying. I can’t stop the pain. The hurt in my heart is much worse than the cramping.
“You tell him whatever you want to tell him or you tell him nothing. It’s up to you. I’ll stand by whatever decision you make.”
“Oh, Dad,” I cry, then reach out and hug him.
He holds me and rocks me side to side for a few minutes.
“It’ll all be okay.”
I have doubts.
He pulls back from the embrace. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
The doorbell rings and I look at Dad like a deer in headlights.
“That’s Sandy. I texted her since she was out shopping and asked her to pick up some heavy flow pads,” Dad tells me.
“You interrupted her day. It was her day to shop and splurge.” I hang my head. I’m ruining everything.
“I’ll let her in since she didn’t take a key.”
He leaves the room and I pull off my shorts and panties, both of which are soaked in blood. I kick them to the other side of the tub and turn on the shower. I watch and cry as the red bleeds into the clear water, turning it a hazy pink. A multi-color whirl of blood flows down the drain. Our baby.
I sit down and wrap my arms around my knees.
I wouldn’t be able to see it yet—the baby—but I know it’s in there—in the blood, in the cramping pain, as well as the pain shattering my heart.
Swallow it down, Tera. Swallow it down and stay strong.
“Honey,” Sandy says softly. “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.”
I nod. I’m going to try. For Xan.
Iwake to voices in the living area. They’re angry—Linc’s back. Maybe he lost last night? I can’t imagine it. He was up against a guy he’s beaten twice before. Stan “The Hammer” Jones. What a tool.
I ease up from bed and stand before the full-length mirror. I stare at myself and I don’t even know who I see. The last four years have been hell on earth. I survived.
I place my hand on my abdomen where my baby would be—our baby. I bite my lip as a tear falls from my eye. Telling Xander is going to kill him inside, much the same as it’s doing to me.
I make my way to the bathroom and do my business, noting that the bleeding is better but not stopped. Dad said this would be like having a period. I don’t know anything about miscarriage—only that it breaks your heart.
The voices are louder again and Linc is swearing. Uh-oh. Something happened.
I throw a sweatshirt over my tank top, not bothering to change my sleep shorts. No one cares. It’s just family.
Deep rumbling voices become clear as I open my bedroom door. The TV is on in the background but they’re talking over it.
“That fucker!” Linc shouts. “He made a promise. And after what she’s just been through, this is going to kill her inside.”
“I admit, it looks damning,” Sandy tells him. “But we don’t know the whole story. You know how the media spins these things.”
“That’s not the point,” Linc reminds her.
“I know,” Sandy agrees.
I step hesitantly into the living space. All heads turn to me, anguish written all over their faces. For the miscarriage? No. No. For whatever the media has… oh, God.
