His Dirty Little Secret//Jayceon Taylor, The Game

Pain//His Dirty Little Secret

(Heya guys)

💁🏽 Natasha 💁🏽

"Excuse me, Natasha? Can I speak to you in private please?" I looked up as the doctor walked in, he was a tall man with thin glasses on the end of his broad nose. He looked smart, but then again most people looked smarter than me.

"Yeah." I winced as I stood, Jayceon was spending time with Dominique-I didn't really mind. Dominique was a great guy, I held so much respect for him. I walked into the doctors private office with him and sat on the soft, padded chair. "Is everything okay?"

The doctors said I was healing perfectly, I refused to look at my stomach, I didn't want to see the scar. It still hurt, but the pain was bearable.

"It's about your pregnancy, now you understand that you were eight months pregnant when you were shot in abdomen, correct?"

I nodded my head, not sure what to say.

"Your partner, when you were brought in, explained to us that you were pregnant-so we performed an emergency cesarian and got the child out."

"Is my baby okay?" I bit my lip, my heart rattling in my chest. I felt got pulse gush through my body, my blood felt cold.

"I'm so very sorry," the doctor met my gaze softly. "The bullet had gone through the babies shoulder, we weren't quick enough, he bled to death afew minutes after we had taken him out."

I felt my body shake. The pain rose in me and washed over me like a tsunami. I felt sick. I felt ill. I felt lost. I felt empty. Every purpose I'd had in life seemed to disappear.

"Miss? Natasha, that's not all. I know this is hard to take in, but your ovary was raptured and is damaged beyond fixing. I'm so sorry, you won't be able to conceive children. Please take your time to let this information sink in."

His voice seemed to fade. I couldn't hear what he was saying. I rose from my chair, my legs felt like jelly, and staggered out. I couldn't remember what room Dominique was in, but I heard the low chuckle of Jayceon's deep voice vibrate through my ears. I trudged to him, I watched the panic rush over his face as he wiped my tears. I heard his voice raise-but I didn't know what he said.

My stomach churned, my child was dead. I stumbled out and fell to my knees, vomiting on the floor as the pain killed my insides. I was drowning in oxygen. I couldn't do this. I couldn't cope with the guilt.

That's when I passed out.