Page 45 of Blade

I cough and choke as I try to swallow them and I quickly put my hand over my mouth, refusing to allow any of them to come back out, forcing them down my own throat.

As soon as they are gone, I grab the rest of the pills and quickly shove them into my mouth as well and take a big drink, swallowing instantly before following with more water, ensuring none of them come back up.

I wanted to kill Brock before doing this, but it isn’t in my cards. I believe in karma, and what comes around goes around.

He’ll get his comeuppance, and I'll laugh at him from wherever I end up.

Nausea hits first, my mouth suddenly watering, my body wanting to expel whatever I’ve just swallowed, but I ignore it and swallow again and again, needing to keep this down, needing to end it once and for all.

The dirt, the filth, the pain, the nightmares, the love I’ve just lost, I need to end everything. I need to be at peace for once, and this is the only way…

“Miss, are you okay?” someone asks, but they sound so far away, and everything around me spins, and my vision blurs. I blink as vomit rises, but I swallow it and slowly lie down on the stained bed.

“Miss?” the voice says again as black dots swim in my blurry vision before clammy hands grip my cheeks, and I groan because they feel too hot, like they are burning my skin off. They gasp, “Oh god!” before everything goes black and I smile, welcoming the end.

Beep, beep, beep.

Beep, beep.

I groan at the incessant beeping and squeeze my eyes tight, the sounds making it louder than they probably are by how much my head is throbbing.

I move my legs only to flinch at the pain, my stomach feeling like it’s on fire. Damn, I feel like I’ve gone ten rounds with a professional boxer.

Wait, why would…confusion hits. I should be dead. I shouldn’t be in pain.

What, why?

I open my eyes and look around ignoring the bright lights wanting to blind me and my eyes tear up, seeing I’m in a hospital bed.

I failed…

“Welcome back,” someone says from beside me and I slowly turn my head and lock eyes with a concerned-looking doctor sitting at my bedside.

“Why…” I croak, and her light gray eyes soften, knowing what I mean.

“Because your life is worth living,” she whispers, and my tears fall as I reply, “A life where I was raped nearly every day for seven years?”

The woman swallows hard but nods and confirms, “Even then…” Not denying my words.

I look away from her and sniffle, and she sighs, “The woman at the hostel managed to get you help just in time. You wereunresponsive when you were brought in three days ago and needed CPR, and we had to pump your stomach.”

“She should have left me,” I choke, hating that someone decided to try and save me, not realizing the hell they were forcing me to continue to live with.

“If she had, it wouldn’t be just you dying,” the doctor says, and I look at her in confusion, my head pounding at the movement, and I blink and try to breathe through the urge to throw up, the taste in my mouth already making it hard not to vomit. She continues, “You are three weeks pregnant.”

Breathing becomes difficult.

Three weeks ago, I slept with Leo, and the next day, Brock raped me…

“Now, there is no guarantee the baby will survive after we pumped your stomach, but–”

I cut her off, “Can you determine exactly when it was conceived?”

I look at her, and her brows furrow. She looks down at her notes and then states, “Conception was around the 5th. It could have been the day before or the day after.”

I look away from her, my tears falling hard.

It could be Leo’s baby, but it could also be Brock’s.

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