A Justice for Miscarriage

Pregnant

I could not hear anything. The servant had been standing by our side, wondering if she should step in. I stretched my arm into the burning pile.

My blood drenched the world in a worse crimson blur. It took me some rummaging around to find my necklace.

Alas, it was made of plastic and was disfigured horribly. Still, I clenched it as tightly as I could, even if the scalding heat covered my hand in blisters.

The ten-year-old me called herself a princess because she wore the necklace. The adult me? This was the only link I had to my parents, and it was destroyed right in front of my face.

I had no idea what happened to Christopher or what made him change. I had no idea why he refused to leave me, even when he no longer had any love for me. I would never cling to him anyway.

Nor could I ever figure out why Yvonne did not marry Christopher, even when she had feelings for him. Instead, she chose to get into a situationship while torturing me at the same time. Was this some sort of fetish I had no idea about? I wondered if I was their living toy.

I really wanted to leave the land I was raised in, with the signed papers in my hands.

Every step I took blurred the world around me more. I wiped the blood away in an attempt to clear my sight. It did nothing.

…

When I woke up again, I was met with a familiar face.

We stood in the hospital's corridor, and he presented me with a report. "You looked terrible. If I weren't on my way to work, some unlucky driver would've crashed into you. And I can't believe you had no idea you were pregnant."

Nathaniel Mayfield. My old schoolmate from the class next door. He used to be my suitor, but the guy stopped contacting me after I went out with Christopher. So this was where he worked.

It was awkward to be seen in that form, especially by someone I knew. I had no idea what to say to him, so I thanked him and paid him back for settling my bill.

"What are you doing?"