Miscarriage

She’s four weeks in and everyone is so excited when they hear the news. She’s four weeks in and she’s home alone. She’s four weeks in and her husband is at work while she stays home for the day. She’s four weeks in when she’s doing the dishes. Suddenly, she cramps, tight, sharp pains engulf her stomach.

At first she thinks it’s nothing and gets over it but when she feels warm liquid running down her thighs she looks down to find red saturating her dress. Instantly, she knows what has happened -- her blood runs cold.

The baby never even got a chance, and neither did she.

Infertil

Its late, after the doctors appointment, and she sits crying in his lap. She wants to have his baby, that’s how much she loves him.

Her body, however, doesn’t seem to agree.

She can’t have babies. She never will.

She’ll never have a child, someone to cradle, kiss, hug, and comfort when they cry, she’ll never have a baby, and she just doesn’t understand why.

Liar

Her smiled over at her and smiled. “Our love is so amazing. It’ll last forever.”

But he was a bad liar. When he lied he had a habit of looking away, not looking in her eyes. Like he did just then when he uttered the honey-sweet words. She grinned wildly and nodded, thinking to herself about how someday, someday he may actually mean it.

Then she remembers that he never will.

Goodbye

“I don’t love you anymore. I’m sorry.” said her boyfriend of two years. The boyfriend she thought was going to propose. “We can still be friends, right?”

She looked at him in disbelief, anchored to her spot with shock, and the tears just randomly flowed fourth from her shimmering eyes. She shook her head. That was it. It was over. She grabbed her purse and walked out the front door. “Goodbye.”

Empty

It was a funeral, so shouldn’t she be crying? Everyone else was.

People lined around the casket but she just couldn’t being herself to shed a tear. She wasn’t even sad, and that’s what made her feel so terrible.

Dead

“What happened?” she asks herself. Blood dripped from her face, but it wasn’t hers. It was her sister’s. And on her lap was the blood of her mother, and on her torso was her father’s.

The man was gone, but the destruction, the despondency remained. Just like the blood-soaked knife that lay between all three bodies. That man ruined everything.

Worthless

People’s parents always have days when their kid just annoys the hell out of them. A day when they’re just not in the mood and they let something negative slip, but they don’t mean it. And their kids can always tell when they don’t mean it.

They can also tell when they do mean it.

She stands in the hallway, just around the corner from her father in the next room, where he sits in the quiet and sips on a Jim Beam. It hurts so bad that there aren’t even any tears. It hurts worse than the punches to the stomach she takes. “You’re not even worth the effort I put into my fists.” he’d said.

Worthless. So maybe she’d be better off dead.

Twenty Dollars

He said he’d help. He said he’s give her the support she needed. But, just like all men, he lied. He got what he wanted and left. Just like the little voice inside of her head had told her he would.

Now she sits in an old, abandoned house, on a disgusting, torn mattress, squeezing the worth out of the twenty dollars he’d shoved in her face after he released and pulled out -- he never even used a condom. “That’s all you’re worth, bitch. Take it or leave it.” She cries now, wishing that she’d just stayed home that night. That night two weeks ago when she ran away from home, her family, her loving parents, when they told her she couldn’t always have what she wanted.

Now she was dirty, homeless, and wet with some stranger’s sperm and probably pregnant too. And she didn’t even have enough money for a bus ride all the way home.

Twenty Dollars. Only enough to pay for another cheep dress to get fucked up in.

Bruises and Broken Bones

She sits at her vanity, the light casting horror upon her features as she looks closer. She applies makeup, like usual, and fights to keep the tears at bay.

She’ll forgive him. Again. Because he says “he’s sorry,” and that “he loves her, he really does” and she believes him. Through all the black eyes and broken arms, the cuts and the busted blood veins, she always believes him. She always takes him back. Just because he says he loves her. With the empty words, void of emotion or any real apology, she feels better. She feels better with hollow words. “It’ll never happen again, you have my word.” he says every time. She takes the words, happily. But deep down she thinks, ‘his word is shit’.

But for now she sits, at her vanity, applying makeup so she can go out to dinner with that man, telling herself that he loves her too and that he means it. Telling herself that it’ll never happen again.

Readying herself, deep down, for the next day when this will all happen again.

Abandonment

She was pregnant, with his child. He’d fucked her, and she’d liked it because she thought it was symbol of their love. Their true love. Apparently she was wrong.

So here she lay, with a soft, tiny bundle of joy resting next to her in bed. But she feels like total shit.

He fucked her up, and now she’s fucked over. Lonely, flat broke, and broken to pieces.

Moving

They held hands as they walked towards his house. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asked with an unsuspecting smile.

“Yeah.” He kissed her cheek quickly before waving a little and walking up the steps to his house. She watched happily as the love of her life, the guy she was sure was “the one” walked up to the front door and felt her heart flutter in joy when he looked back. She was sure he felt the same way.

“Usual time?” she quizzed, almost knowingly, “Breakfast?”

“Yup.” he said again and entered his house.

The next day she stood crying, by the front of his old house. The old house that was empty on the inside, like her heart. The old house where her true love had once lived, where she would’ve had breakfast with him and then watch Sunday cartoons with him on the old, worn couch in his room. The house that held a sign of lies, of the words he never told her:

“Sold.”

Cheater

“I love you.” he whispered with a kiss to his girlfriend’s velvet lips.

“Love you too, babe.” she said back. He left out the door, flashing another quick, sweet smile at her before he turned and walked down the driveway and began his trek home.

She walked to the window in the other room, the one that had a perfect view of the street corner, and hid behind the curtains. Half way down the block he stopped, looked back and checked, then continued to the corner. There, waiting for him in a skimpy little skirt and tank top, was a blonde with big boobs and nice legs. She smiled and he kissed her.

His girlfriend felt her heart break a little more from under the shadow of the curtains as she watched his lips mouth out “I love you” to another ‘other’ girl.

“Love you to.” she whispered as a single tear shed from her shimmering eyes