Here’s another story from Ms O under the Ghost Writer tab. I loved reading it and I’m sure you will too. Enjoy and please leave your comments
Never again, I’d said to myself, never again. The first time was a mistake. Who would have seen it coming? “Just the tip” he after all said.
I was young and naïve and I didn’t know better. Yeah, I didn’t know better. Momma’s version of “the talk” was; you carry belle come this house, you carry am go back to where you get am.
So I didn’t go home. And he wouldn’t admit it was his fault. I went to Bimpe, good girl that one, and she took me to “The Chemist”. Two injections, a week of crippling pain and a seemingly endless “period” was all it took.
That was the first time. The second time I didn’t need Bimpe. I already knew the code to tell the man in The Chemist. He smiled at me knowingly. He must have been thinking “Hey! Regular customer”. Bastard!
The pain was worse that time. But I really panicked when I bent over the toilet bowl, to throw up for the umpteenth time, and saw blood mixed with puke… Needless to say I thought I was going to die.
What the hell was I thinking? So I prayed. If I survive this, I promise not to let any man touch me again…never again…
That was last year.
Now I sit in an aircraft, impatiently waiting for take off. Everything is taking forever.
In the two hours its taken us to wait for our flight to be called, I’ve bled all over three change of clothes.
For what must be the tenth time I tell Phil that we don’t need to miss our flight just to get to the nearest hospital.
And yes, I am sure that I will be fine.
It’s just a little bleeding not a lot…a litre maybe…and pain, excruciating but I’ll live. Right?
Amazing how no one seems to notice the huge red stain on d back of my current dress that Phil’s leather jacket is doing a poor job of hiding.
I’m in terrible pain and Phil is looking at me like I’m about to drop dead — I feel like I’m about to drop dead — saying over and over again that I will be fine. He’ll drive us to the nearest hospital the moment we land…
If I survive that long.
How did I get here? Never again I’d said. Philip wanted to keep the baby and get married. But we both know I can’t marry him. I’m not ready and he’s not suitable. Period. Maybe I should have accepted his proposal.
What if I die right now? I’d get to heaven and tell God; I killed the baby and myself because Philip wasn’t good enough in bed to get me to take that ring. I mean, I’d rather break his heart now than get married and cheat. No wait! I wouldn’t go to heaven would I?
Maybe I should pray for God to save me…again. But I’m sure He won’t listen this time. I should have learned my lesson the first time…or at least the second.
Maybe I will die…In an airborne plane…covered in baby murder blood…in front of all these people… How hard would my mum cry? Oooh but when she learns the cause of death — Aha! Finally, take off.
I’m going to be sick…I gesture towards my makeshift puke bag Phil passes it to me and again, I throw up more of the nothing I’ve had to eat all day…and blood. O boy, so much blood…I am dying! People do die from loss of too much blood.
I can feel it. My heart is beating so fast…like my chest is going to explode. Feels like my soul is leaving my body. My head is heavy. I’ve never felt so…so dizzy…sigh.
I look down with eyes that just won’t focus. A steady trickle from the seat is fast forming a crimson pool on the cabin floor.
I remember Trey Songs singing something like “my vision blur…my words slur” lol that’s exactly how I feel right now. I love that song. And Nicki…
I look, dazed, towards Phil and see him slowly rise and gesture to someone…why is he calling for help? He should look for a way to clean up all this mess.
Aarrgh my head..and I feel so so dizzy. My heart is pounding in my ears. I try to tell Phil to sit back down. He’s drawing too much attention.
I make a futile effort to raise my hand before the blackness covers me. 1 litre of blood? Two? More?