27 - Frenzied

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             Alana didn't sleep that night, she lay awake cradling her stomach. Waiting for his return. She had cried until there weren't any more tears left to shed.

Why did she have to say that? Why did she fight with him at all? She had known from the beginning that he wasn't going to love her? She had repeatedly reminded herself of this countless of times, and yet...Why had it bothered her so much that night?

Was it the realisation that maybe their intimate moments together—while for her had been the best of her life—for him it had been forced? Alana had imagined it. Him forcing himself to be with her and regretting it because he felt he betrayed that woman. But for sake of saving Luka had to tolerate her and fūck her?

It had been thinking those thoughts, how he could have possible forced himself to be with her that was  the most painful.

The outburst had been uncalled for, but at that moment she had really resented him.

Now he wasn't ever going to tolerate her anymore. She had lost his respect the moment she strung those words. From now onwards, he was going to treat her as a true surrogate that she was.

Alana knew he was bound to return. He wouldn't leave her knowing his son, Luka, was there inside of her. Because of his love for Luka he was going to return to that island.

And so Alana stayed up all night waiting for him to come back so that she could apologise. She stayed up until the first breaks of dawn. Just aimlessly waiting.

When morning came she didn't leave her bed. Then her bladder and hunger prodded her brain's relay centre until she relented. Alana would have ignored those sensations and continued lying there had it not been for the child inside of her.

After using the bathroom, she went to the kitchen to make breakfast for herself. She rubbed her growing stomach.

"You and your dad... Why must you Fury men torment me so? Hmmm, little bean?" She rubbed her stomach as she spoke to that son.

"I didn't mean to push him away. I didn't mean to say that to him. I'm sure your real mother didn't really want to leave him, right? How could she leave him? How could she leave both of you behind? I'm so sorry."

If she couldn't apologise to Lylas then she would apologise to his son. After eating, Alana decided to paint using the equipment from before.

She was reminded of that rainy Sunday during that explosive weekend. He had spent the whole day teasing her just her get her to sleep with him. It awed Alana to think that day had been exactly three months ago. It felt like an ancient lifetime away.

There was something about being alone in this island that unsettled Alana. She painted to get away from that feeling. It curbed inside her, making her anxious and fearful.

The feeling was soul binding and she couldn't describe its entirety, however, Alana felt its suffocation. It was feeling this suffocated loneliness that she decided she couldn't continue painting anymore.

And so, with an anxiety attack brimming, she quickly got up and rushed outside for fresh air. As soon as she was out of the mansion, the smell of the sea bombarded her nostril wrongly.

And so, that afternoon, for the second time since her pregnancy, Alana soiled the bushes with her vomit. All her breakfast emptied as she threw up in the shrubbery.

Something wasn't right. Although it was normal, since she was pregnant, her vomiting wasn't because of pregnancy. It was the smell of the sea. That combination of loneliness, despair, abandonment and heartbreak was truly enhanced with that smell at that moment.

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