Amelioration

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TRIGGER WARNING FOR DOMESTIC/SEXUAL ABUSE, RAPE, SUICIDE/SELF HARM, OR DRUG USAGE.
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Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

I swore I'd been listening to the same ticking for so long that my heartbeat mimicked it.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

I shifted my attention to the grandfather clock in the corner.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

Crash.

The abrupt volume of the front door being slammed open startled me. I cringed. He's home late tonight. I curled up under my blankets in anticipation.

Tick, tock.

The door swung open and he entered, accompanied by an overwhelming stench of booze and cigarettes. I wondered what his mood would be today.

"Up, Amber. Get up," he said, his voice low. Intimidating.

I slowly dragged myself out of the bed to stand in front of him. His cheeks were rosy from the cold. I could almost say he looked attractive. Almost.

He reached out to stroke my cheek. I winced. He withdrew.

"Aww, what's wrong, Amber?" he inquired. I felt my lower lip quiver.

"N-nothing, Carlisle," I responded. Of course, it was a lie. I knew what he wanted when he was drunk and bad news wasn't it. I refused to find myself on the bad side of my drunken fiancé. I decided to talk to him later.

He tilted his head to the side, very slightly, before shrugging and reaching out once again to tangle his fingers in my hair. His expression changed from blank to determined and he forced me closer to him by his intense grip in my hair. His free arm wrapped around me, hand resting on my lower back. Wandering lower ever so slowly. His face was inches from mine, and I caught unwanted whiffs of alcohol from his breath. He pulled my body flush against his and kneaded my ass with his hand.

"You know I love you, Amber," he muttered. I nodded my head and he quickly attached his lips to mine in a passionate kiss. It could have been enjoyable, but the taste of alcohol ruined it for me. Still, I endured.

He pulled away a little bit and hastened to remove my shirt. Unenthusiastically, I complied with his silent wish. I allowed him to pull my softest t-shirt over my head and took it upon myself to unbutton my shorts, dropping them. No bra, but he wanted my panties off.

I couldn't say that I was in the mood. In fact, all I wanted to do was lay down with my sober fiancé and talk about the ups and downs of life. This was all I ever wanted.

He pulled his own shirt off before pushing me onto the bed and falling after me.

•

"Morning, babe," he grumbled as he staggered past me to a bar stool behind the island.

I turned around silently to serve him a plate of fried eggs, toast and sausage. He gave me a grateful glance before indulging. I grabbed my coffee mug and took a seat next to him, still very silently.

"Didn't the doctor tell you to avoid caffeine while you're pregnant?"

The question made me cringe. I couldn't pretend I was still pregnant forever, could I? "Yeah," I responded simply.

"Then why are you-" he started.

"We need to talk," I muttered, taking another sip of my bitter beverage. He paused to stare at me, waiting, wanting me to say more. "Um... I'm not pregnant anymore."

He seemed to stop breathing. The house was silent. I gulped and forced myself to hold back any tears that threatened to spill from my eyes.

"Excuse me?" he questioned lowly. My heart pounded in my chest. He stood up and the stool scraped backwards away from him. "What the fuck did you do?"

My voice caught in my throat before I could even begin to explain. It wasn't my fault. Please.

"Well? What did you do wrong? Had you not taken your vitamins? Amber?" He was fuming. I could tell he was holding back.

My eyes brimmed with tears as I opened my mouth to explain. "Carlisle," I started, my voice a mere whisper, "there was nothing I could do." He glared at me and I regretted my next words immediately after I said them: "Had you not pushed me down the other day, though, it may not have happened."

"Oh? So this is my fault now?" He yanked the coffee mug from my grasp and threw it off to the side. My eyes went wide and I gulped. Yes. It is your fault. He grabbed his plate, only half-eaten, and threw it aside as well. "You were the one that killed our child, not me."

He had said that last part through gritted teeth before slapping me across the face. I whimpered and cradled my cheek, falling to the floor. As quickly as I had fallen, though, he grasped my hair in his hand and yanked me back up, kneeing my stomach and throwing me back down with force. My breath was knocked from my lungs, but I still attempted to crawl away. It was then that I felt his foot come into contact with my side and send a shockwave of pain throughout my body. I cried out and collapsed, trying to catch my breath properly.

"You fucking deserve this, Amber," he spat. "You deserve to be punished for killing our child."

He kicked me in my side again... and again, until the pain became too much and I blacked out right there, helpless on my kitchen floor.