Bridgett gxg

...6

Bridgett

I threw up again, what little food I'd eaten that day was now on the tiles before me. A splash of green and brown, wet and disgusting. Dangerous. I cleaned it up, holding back the rest of my urges to chuck. Even if I did, I doubted there'd be any more food to lose, I'd only eaten a few spare scraps in the week. He'd kill me if he found the mess.

This had been going on for days now. The throwing up, the queasiness. The pains down there that felt different to normal. He was going to be back soon. I could see that blasted whip hanging on the back of the kitchen door. He'd moved it, giving me that sadistic grin as he had, just knowing he would need it for the next time I broke a plate.

I was making very sure that no plate was being broken. So far I was safe, but if he saw the tiles before I mopped them, that false sense of safety would develop into pain, fear and just... I had to mop before he got back.

It didn't do much good, the moment he found me in the bathroom, bent over the tub trying to clean it, I threw up again. Making this horrible retching sound. I don't even know where the food I was throwing up had come from. I hadn't eaten nearly that much.

He didn't punish me like I expected, instead he gave me the first soft touch I'd received in years and held my hair back as I retched into the bath. He was humming sounds that would have been soothing if my nerves weren't so shot, and stroking the back of my neck softly. When I finished, he picked me up, still being gentle, and lay me down on his bed, whispering something about medicine for my stomach and water. I don't know what scared me the most, that whip of his, or him being this kind.

Anger I could deal with, pain I could deal with, screaming I could deal with and orders I could deal with. But this kindness, this tenderness I hadn't felt in years? I could not deal with. I burst into tears, and he wiped them away

It was a few weeks before my stomach settled, and he allowed me out of the bed I'd had all to myself during the sick spell. I didn't know where he'd been sleeping, but it wasn't in his bed with me, and for that I was grateful.

He handed me a small, plastic blue stick and told me to take it. I had no idea what it was, or what he was talking about and very hesitantly, very quietly asked him, so he pointed at one end, and told me to pee on it.

I wondered if he'd maybe gone mad.

I did what he said anyway, and he took the stick away from me when I had, and told me to wash the dishes. It was maybe an hour later, when I was finished wiping down the kitchen counters and just starting on dusting the light fixtures that he came up to me.

I wasn't able to make much sense of what he was saying, but I heard the word abortion, and instantly knew what was going on.

I was pregnant. There was a life inside of me. There was a life, a baby inside of me, and he was going to kill it.

That was the last time I ever told a man "no".

I wrapped my arms around my stomach and just looked at him, shaking my head and whispering no. No. No, you cannot kill my baby. No, I can't be pregnant. No, this isn't happening. No.

No. It's a powerful word if you know how to use it. I had no idea how to use it, but I could still wield its power.

I told him no, in a tone that said "You won't talk me out of it".