The words were muffled glass. Only a high-pitched whine filled my ears. Gone. The child we never knew existed. Conceived amidst my stupid suspicions and neglect. Lost in agony and helplessness. A vast emptiness swallowed me. I slid down the cold wall, collapsing to the floor, choked, animal sounds tearing from my throat. Emily was wheeled back, anesthesia lingering. Paper-white. Eyes closed. Fragile as ash. I sat vigil by the bed, tentatively holding her hand outside the blanket.
At Her Bedside
Her hand was ice, small blue veins stark. The room was tomb-silent. Only the monitor's rhythmic beep. I bent my head, forehead resting on her cold knuckles. The chill seeped into my skin. Remorse gnawed like insects. What did I miss? What should I have guarded? Tears fell unchecked onto her hand, tiny dark spots. Emily's fingers twitched weakly in my grasp. I looked up. She was awake, watching me. The eyes once bright, vibrant, now like ashes. Empty. Distant. Abyssal.
Unforgiven
Profound pain and an unbridgeable chasm filled them. Her lips parted slightly, breath a sigh. "The baby... gone... isn't it?" My throat locked. No words came. I squeezed her hand tighter, nails biting my own palm. Slowly, deliberately, she withdrew her hand. Her fingertips trailed ice across my skin. She closed her eyes, turned her head away. A single tear traced her temple, vanishing into her hair. Her chest rose and fell softly. She made no sound.
