Talk Too Much: Auggie's Story-H.S. Fanfic

The Most Unimaginable Pain

She sits on the floor in the bathroom with all of her supplies in front of her. All of the supplies that she hasn't used in thirteen years. She's got it all, her spoon, her water, the plastic bag, a shoelace.

She can feel her body already starting to tingle even though she hasn't taken anything, but it's like it knows. Maybe it does. Maybe the familiar muscle movements have elicited a spark in her that can't be dimmed until they get what they're expecting.

And they're going to get it.

Her legs are crossed in a pretzel that took her a while to get into and was pretty painful at first because of her ripped vagina. Her sweatshirt is quite annoying to wear since the sleeves keep falling down around her hands no matter how many times she pushes them up, but it's the only thing she can bring herself to wear. It's the only thing that hides her deflated stomach that still looks semi pregnant.

She doesn't know if getting dressed will ever start to feel better. All she knows is that she's yet to be able to look at her body in the mirror. When she changes out her sweatshirt every so often, she keeps her eyes closed. The closest she's gotten to looking at her body is the once a day vaginal check that Auggie has to do by her doctor's request to make sure her stitches don't look infected or extra irritated. She lays back on the bed with her feet braced against the mattress and her knees bent, squeezing her eyes shut as Auggie quickly looks before he assures her that everything looks fine and quickly moves to pull her panties back up.

She was never a modest person before this, she'd strip in front of anyone at any moment because she always felt like she had nothing to hide, but she does now. She has shame to hide. The deflated skin around her stomach, the squishiness of it and the rips in her vagina are all reminders that she didn't keep her baby safe. That she didn't protect him. She had one f*cking job and she couldn't do it. And how shameful that is.

Her hand is shaking almost too much for her to be able to hold the spoon still enough to pour the water in, but she's determined so she finds a way. She pours the white powder in after, a fire lighting in her at the familiar sight as she one handedly reaches for the lighter and flicks it on, the heat burning her skin in the best way possible as she puts it under the spoon, watching as the powder and water begin to caramelize, the smell filling her nostrils with a sense of familiarity.

Familiarity. It's such a comforting feeling. Nothing about any of what's happened in the past week has been familiar. Nothing feels familiar. August doesn't feel familiar, his touch doesn't and she doesn't even feel familiar to herself anymore.

She doesn't know who she is, and maybe that's why she hasn't looked in the mirror. Maybe she's scared that she really wouldn't recognize herself.

She watches as the powder becomes a liquid and she then balances the spoon on the ground before reaching for her shoelace that she pulled from one of her sneakers and tying it around her bicep, but her sweatshirt sleeve keeps falling over it which leads her to rip off her sweatshirt, leaving her alone and shirtless with her swollen stomach spilling over her sweatpants.

Her swollen empty stomach, her swollen empty stomach, her swollen empty...

The sting of the shoelace around her bicep is a welcomed feeling because it reminds her that she's not numb to everything. She can feel some things, she can feel pain, and not just the emotional gut wrenching kind.

She reaches for the needle, one she always kept even after she got clean as a reminder. Originally it was to remind her of where she had been and how she never wanted to go back to that dark place. But she wants to go back now. Because the place she's in is so much darker. The place she was in when she was a teenager actually make sticking this needle in her arm feel like light. Nothing could be as dark as losing her son.