Extended Weekly Snippets From: MEMOIRS OF A FORGOTTEN CHILD

Missing You Miscarriage

Missing You Miscarriage

Going through hell might be an understatement. Every moment of every day was morning sickness. Lyonel was off with his friends, that Marie never met but heard of. From Lyonel's stories, they were wild young men just like him. Marie was unfazed about meeting them and to her they occupied too much of his time. They probably had worthless stories about women they slept with, the stupidity they're a part of, and inflated egos with nothing to back it up but half truth tales. All of Marie's focus was on her two babies in her womb. She never felt so connected to anyone or anything before, not even Lyonel. All of the restless nights, skin disorders, weight gain, soreness, hair loss meant nothing to Marie because at the end of the tribulations she was enduring she'd finally get what she wanted, someone to love her as much as she loved them. Lyonel had second thoughts about the gang life. He grew to be intimidated by the lifestyle. When he first decided to join the gang, he thought the thug life involved climbing ranks to someday be a leader, getting money and women throwing themselves at him. Preferably sooner than later, in that order. The more Lyonel had to prove his loyalty to the gang by doing dirt the less committed he was to the gang, yet he was smart enough to keep his moral standards to himself. Confused on his stance, fatherhood allowed Lyonel to have a self-reflection about being a gangbanger. How could he explain to his unborn child that he was in a gang that led him to serve a bid?

After all, he didn't get jumped to join the gang, and he liked the reputation of being a wild card in the group. Belonging to a group that'll have his back, so he believed. Marie woke up from another night of sleeping alone, turning to her left, not caring where Lyonel was. This night was different, Marie was going to suffer pains far more serious than the morning sickness she had become accustom to. Pains more severe than bending over to pick up items on the hotel floor. Pain more anchoring than the verbal assaults Lyonel hurled at her. Stiffly, Marie made her way to the bathroom. The urgency to urinate was like a tennis match with her bladder being the ball. As adequate as Marie could she dropped on to the toilet to relieve her bladder, paralyzed in hardening agony she looked down to see her panties. Marie saw a flood of redness soaking through her panties. Marie felt as if she had no more oxygen in her lungs. When she was done releasing and cleaning herself, she noticed that the blood was all over the toilet seat. A horrified hypnotic stare, she knew what that blood meant.

She cried on cue and began to clean the symbolic blood. Marie showered the longest she had ever done before, wrapping her arms around her body, and standing statuesque still in blanketed in shock. Marie spent the night cleaning all evidence of what had happened. She scrubbed over crevices and spots where the blood didn't touch. To her, it was all the same. No matter how many times she went over a particular spot it wasn't clean to her liking. As if Marie could only see red, blinded by red. Not once did she stop to rest. Cleaning the red or what she perceived to be red gave her the motivation to shut off her brain and emotions.

As sunrise approached, Marie stopped scrubbing and got ready for work. The glare of the penetrating sun woke her out of her robotic state. While Marie was dressing in her Housekeeper uniform, she changed the bed sheets. Despite the sheets not having a drop of blood on them. To Marie, they might as well have been drenched in blood. She didn't want to see a trace of blood or anything associated with 'the moment.' Marie was able to disassociate with that traumatic period as if it didn't happen. No tears or reluctance could be found on her face. Marie couldn't compute what happened the night before, better yet, she didn't want to compute that moment. She didn't want anything to trigger her memory of the 'moment' and the apartment itself was the location of the moment. She left the apartment as if it was any ordinary day. It's not like Marie couldn't take a break from work or call sick. She needed the money, but she wasn't desperate for it. Needless to say, staying at the apartment didn't help her escape.

- excerpt from MEMOIRS OF A FORGOTTEN CHILD by author Vie Cine Self-Published Author

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