Rebel Heart [#1]

FORTY-THREE - Black Hole

For whatever amount of time, I've spent here, I'm starting to think I won't get out. 

Just when I start to accept this pregnancy... Now I feel like this will also be taken away from me. I can't win either way. 

Bloody hell. I don't want to cry.

He can come back down anytime and I don't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me like this. The time I am left alone is the only period I allow myself to cry and let all of these emotions out. The pain, the anger. 

I've felt it all by now... Even the fear, followed by the rage and the despair. It usually ends with exhaustion and numbness. Until the cycle starts again.

For once, I want it to stop. All of it. Everything.

Making it stop has crossed my mind a few times until I remember it. With this baby, I can't bring myself to make any impulsive or selfish decisions.

I've lost count of all the things he's done to me so far. And to be honest, I've been blocking it out with just one goal in mind: protecting my baby.

The problem is... My problem is that my belly is starting to show. While it only looks bloated, soon it will be obvious. What will happen then? If he finds out?

I shiver at the thought. Can't happen!

Pressing my hands against my belly in a slow and gentle rub I whisper, "Hang on, we might make it."

I want to make it out alive. I want to get to know you and teach you that all of this shit... It's not worth it. God, it's the good thoughts of "what could be" that get me through this hell. 

If it were to be a boy... I can imagine a good-looking boy having tons of girls falling at his feet. Especially if he looked like his fa-

No. Nuh-uh, I can't think of him. 

My kid will be mine only and hopefully, he'll have all my looks so I can tell the world how I did him all by myself. 

Because to know and admit that his father is the reason for this... I still can't.

With my luck, he or she will have his eyes... His electric blue eyes. HA. Imagine. Even if I could run away from all this shit, one part would still haunt me until my last breath, whether I want it or not.

Fate is a twisted bitch. That she is.

I try to laugh at the irony but the dehydration makes me cough instead. I am hungry, weak and dirty. I can barely walk. 

I haven't showered in God knows how long, with nothing but my disgusting dress and a small blanket that barely keeps me warm. The cuts on my skin are a mess, a few are healed while others are starting to get swollen with the lack of treatment and a couple of fresh ones due to his most recent visit.