Page 14 of Resurgent

They didn’t just assault me.

They didn’t just try to rape me.

They took something that didn’t even get a chance to exist.

My vision blurs as hot tears race down my face, and I press my palm harder against my stomach, like maybe I can feel some echo, some whisper of what once was.

“I didn’t even know you existed,” I mutter, my voice shaking so badly it doesn't even sound like real words. “I didn’t even get to see you.”

A future flashes unbidden—tiny giggles as a little girl stumbles and falls, only to be caught by Uncle Matt, a young boy with stubborn eyes and so much determination as I teach him to shoot a bow and arrow while Tyr adds unwanted commentary. A million kisses and a million more "I love yous."

Gone.

All of it. Gone before it could ever be a dream.

Another wave of guilt creeps in, ugly and invasive. If I’d been stronger, or if I’d fought harder. Maybe if I hadn’t let them surprise me.

"That’s a lie and you know it. You fought with everything you had, and then you still gave more," Tyr growls into my mind. "You gave everything you had to survive—exactly like you always have."

I hear every word he says, but the guilt gnaws at me too hard to believe him yet.

The same way I can't acknowledge the "Like you were never supposed to need to do again," I feel him admit next, though it was more to himself than to me.

But he wasn't the one responsible for protecting my baby, I was.

"I really couldn't give him a family. Our baby wasn't even born and I failed it," I choke out.

“No,” he snarls, shaking his head hard enough that I feel it over my own body tremors. “It was NOT your fault. They did this.”

Web.

Platt.

Their names feel like poison in my mind.

My innocent baby didn’t deserve to die because two men decided I was disposable.

You were real, I think as I squeeze my eyes shut. You mattered. Even if no one knew you existed yet, you were mine.

Another sob rips through me, quieter this time. Quieter, but so soul deep, I'm not sure I'll ever recover.

My hand settles over my stomach again, though it's gentle rather than desperate this time. Matt's fingers lacing with mine in a silent reminder that I'm not alone in this grief, no matter how much it feels like I am.

Tears fall in a steady stream from my eyes as I cry out every what-if I can think of. Every apology I can give a child that I'll never get to meet in this lifetime.

"Please put me back to sleep, Sasha," I mutter, only loud enough to be heard over our near silent crying.

Thankfully, she doesn't say anything, but the bed shifts, and I know she's giving me this little gift of reprieve.

"I'll be here when you wake up," Matt chokes out as I bury my face into his chest and pray to the gods to watch over my baby until I can get there to meet it.

Slowly, I blink awake.

A room that feels entirely unfamiliar and like I've been here forever surrounds me.

Sasha is gone, but, just as he promised, Matt is lying beside me, his hand still clasped in mine as he takes long, uneven breaths—on the verge of tears, even in his sleep.

What the fuck is wrong with me? My person is beside me devastated, and yet I chose to escape rather than stay in this with him like he's done for me.