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MIRA
My eyes flutter open as nausea crashes into my chest. A cold sweat breaks out across my face, the back of my neck, and down my back, my heart racing like it’s been set on fire. Burying my head in the crook of my arm, I sit up slowly and clutch my mouth. What feels like the world’s worst episode of vertigo slams into my head, but I force myself to throw back the covers and leap out of bed. I stumble to the bathroom, flipping on the harsh overhead light as I stagger across the floor toward the toilet. My hands shake as I crash to my knees just in time for a bolt of heat to shoot through me before I retch, my back arching as I heave, every muscle in my stomach contracting painfully.
When the spasms finally subside, I slump against the cool tiled wall, my chest heaving as a rancid taste burns the back of my throat. God, I feel like shit. It’s like someone poured a gallon of bile down my throat and now it’s poisoning me from the inside.
Pushing myself up on my feet, I grab my toothbrush, smothering it in mint toothpaste, and scrub my mouth and tongue until it feels raw. I try to reach the back of my mouth, but the risk of making myself gag is too big, and the last thing I want is to throw up again.
I rinse and spit, then throw the toothbrush into the trash before pawing with trembling fingers through the cabinet, grabbing a new one. That’s when I notice the box of tampons tucked away in the back, and an ice-cold wave of panic crashes over me.
“Shit.” I grab the box, trying to remember when my last period was, but I can’t recall. I count up the days, the weeks, but it’s like my memory won’t go back that far. Did I skip a period?
Oh, my God.
No. No. No.
I stumble back, the box slipping from my hand, and tampons roll across the bathroom floor. I haven’t had my period since…since…
“Jesus Christ, no,” I gasp as dread floods my system. My back hits the wall, and I sink to the cold floor, unable to breathe. How did I miss this? It’s been almost two months. How the fuck did I miss this? It didn’t cross my mind once. Not once did I think about my period or the possibility that I might…oh, God…be pregnant.
Nausea rises again, and I launch forward just in time to not vomit on the tiled floor. My thoughts scatter into chaos as I heave and retch, my stomach gripped with painful spasms as it forces more bile up my throat and out my mouth. Everything hurts. Every muscle is pulled taut, my bones aching as if they’re being crushed. My head throbs, threatening to explode, and I just want it to stop. I want everything to stop. I want this nightmare to end and just have my goddamn life back.
The violent projectile vomit turns into dry heaving. There’s nothing left to get rid of, and I finally sit back, sweat beading around my face as I struggle to catch my breath.
Dear God, this can’t be happening. Please tell me this isn’t happening right now.
My gaze falls on a tampon on the floor in the middle of the bathroom like it’s the universe’s version of a goddamn middle finger.
Am I…can I be…surely I can’t be pregnant?
Nicoli.
Nunzio.
Oh, God…
Revulsion rushes over me as memories threaten to engulf me. Memories ofhim.His evil face. His vile touch. His slimy, arrogant fucking voice. My whole body starts to shiver, and the scar he left on my inner thigh burns as if he just sliced it two seconds ago. My mind is bombarded with flashes of his malicious grin as he wipes at the blood, using it as lubricant to fuck me while I’m lying there refusing to fight because I know that’s what he wants. He wants me to fight. He gets off on my cries and my screams, and I would rather die than give him what he wants. Even my thoughts run through the memories in present tense, like it’s happening right now. Like I’m still trapped in that room and never got saved.
But it’s not happening. He’s not here. Nicoli did save me.
Breathe, Mirabella. In. Out. In. Out.
“You are mine now, birdie. I will fucking touch you when I want to.”
“No one is here to stop me. No one is here to save you from me.”
“That’s it, birdie. Scream for me.”
Tears well up in the corners of my eyes as I desperately try to force the memories away, to lock them in a box in the farthest corner of my mind. With a broken sob, I wrap my arms around my body and tremble until all that’s left of me are tears and fear so crippling I can’t move from the bathroom floor. If there were ever a moment when giving up was an option for me, it would be now. The thought of him…of his baby…growing inside me, it’s too much. I won’t be able to live with that. How could I?
I close my eyes, lean my head back, and try to breathe through the panic, trying to focus my mind on Nicoli—his face, his voice, his warmth, our connection that’s always managed to pull us together.
Slowly, I stand and make my way to the sink, the hard ceramic edges pressing into my forearms as I splash cold water onto my face in an attempt to ground myself and get control. As the cold filters through my pores, I’m suddenly frozen, unable to move. It’s like the world slowly encircles me, fading in from shadows to darkness as I watch tiny droplets of water drip down the side of the faucet, leaving crooked trails behind them. I’m scared to move. I can’t think straight. I can’t breathe. Every thought in my head mixes together, and it feels like the walls are closing in on me, so close I can smell the familiar stench of death and despair clinging to the suffocating air.
“You will not lose your shit now,” I say to myself, straightening so I can look at my reflection, but it’s a stranger staring back at me. Eyes red-rimmed and glassy, hair sticking up in all directions, and skin pale as death. I hardly recognize myself. At that moment, I realize I’m not just scared of being pregnant or having Nunzio’s child inside me. I’m scared of what it all means. Of how it will change everything. Of never being free from him.
Forcing my eyes shut, I try to calm the fear pumping through my veins and to stop a scream from ripping out of my throat.
If I’m pregnant, there’s a chance that it might be Nicoli’s. Of course, there’s a chance, and that allows a sliver of hope to seep through the panic like a gentle wave of calm that floods the chaos.
