The Mistake That Broke Me

Chapter Thirty Seven: Shark Week

Song: Confident by Demi Lovato

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I think all females can easily agree that shark week is the one of the most inconvenient, painfully annoying things that can happen to them. Many experience a full week of cramps that sends tremors of pain down their abdomen, and I was one of the unlucky women who has severe cramps.

Cramps are often accompanied by the sickening feeling of the intermittent stream of warm blood that seeps out between your legs. All in all, it's quite hellish.

I didn't show up to work that day the morning I discovered that I had been attacked by the force of mother nature sometime during the early morning hours. I'm on day three now, lying on my stomach with a warm water bottle pressed up so hard against my lower abdomen that it feels like it could pierce my flesh.

My teeth grit together and I wish to catch even a minuscule amount of sleep.

But alas, my womb has decided to torture the living hell out of me and refuses to let me sleep. At that moment, I imagine all the creative ways I could rip out my own uterus, and I find that a  revenge plan against my own body certainly distracted me a bit from the pain.

Sweat dripped from my brow as another wave of pain viciously attacked me, and I let loose a groan of frustration and pain. I had to go to the bathroom, and I was dreading the trip because any sudden movement at this point could send my cramps into overdrive.

It felt like there was lions bouncing about in my womb, ripping, clawing, and trying to tear their way free from my own flesh. I hobbled like an old, crippled woman as I trekked to the cramped, tiny bathroom in my apartment.

I sit down on the toilet seat, and reach for the drawer that is stocked full with feminine products.

Or, what I meant to say was should be stocked full of pads, because much to my horror, it was empty. "Fuck!" I curse aloud. I'm not normally one to curse loudly, but desperate times calls for desperate measures.

And this was certainly a "fuck everything" moment.

To make matters even worse, a knock rattles the front door. I growl in frustration, violently ripping strands of rough, cheap toilet paper from the roll and stuffing it in my pants. The knock sounds again, further adding to my irritation. "Hold on one minute!" I screech.

I pull my pants up, rushing and hobbling to get to the front door in a timely fashion. But upon my hurry, I fail to realize that a wall is in my way, and when I turn the corner, my foot slams into the wall painfully, sending me flying to the ground.

"DOUBLE FUCK!" I scream, knowing the person outside the door can very well hear me. 

I hold my aching foot, cradling it in my hands, and at that moment, my cramps worsen. "I get the point, you hurt! Now can you shut up please and behave for your human host?" I growl out angrily.

By the time I reach the door, my hair is askew in all directions. My fluffy pajamas with whales floating around on them are wrinkled to the point of oblivion. A permanent scowl is etched onto my face. Toilet paper hangs out the front of my pajama bottoms but I'm too fed up to care.

I'm sure I look sick and tired as hell, too, but I didn't want to check myself in the mirror this morning, lest I scream from my reflection.

I don't even check to see who it is at the door. I just swing it open angrily, the door hitting the wall behind it with a satisfying bang.

"What do you wa-" I swallow my words when I see who's at the door. It was Colton. I hadn't seen him for at least five days, and so I should've known that he would be checking up on me soon.