Imperfect

T W E N T Y - S I X - A B I G A L E O T T O M

I was burning up—it seemed as if I was on fire, or worse.

  Never in my life have I felt sick like this. And PLUS being sick at the worst time, eight months pregnant and I could be ready to pop Amara out at any day now.

Walking in with his charming, and nice smile, my husband wore his blue t-shirt that had small, pink flamingos on them.

I rubbed my husband's forearm as he got closer to the bed, sitting by my side, kissing my forehead as I was burning up.

From the dresser beside my bed, my phone vibrated, alarming Clarence as he was kissing my forehead softly; he picked the ringing phone up from the brown dresser, seeing that there were numerous calls and text messages from MANY PEOPLE.

Some of the callers and people that were texting me included: my mom Terri, my father Darrell, my cousin Cynthia, my sister Claire, my brother Mason, and Joan--who I cut all ties with after her nephew died...

Clarence was intrigued by all these people calling me and willingly wanted to respond to their text messages and calls—I declined him to.

I was done talking to them; I cut them off. I cut all personal ties with these people and I don't want them in mine or Amara's lives.

Because what I said, my husband decided to leave my family situation to me—but I wasn't going to respond to any of the calls or text messages at all... I'm done with those people.

Clarence stood up from the bed, walking over to the opposite side the bed, taking off his shoes—climbing into bed with me, cuddling like the perfect couple that I knew we could be—the perfect couple that I wanted us to become.

He wrapped his arms around my belly, rubbing it—I didn't have a problem with it anymore, I loved it when he would rub my belly and feel Amara kick—he seemed like he would be the perfect man to raise my child; well, now his child...

The love of my life went from rubbing my belly to rubbing my thighs. I really wasn't in the mood for the sexual play because I was a mess—I felt like I had to throw up, I was burning up, and it felt like something weird was going on inside of my body.

Although I didn't want anything sexual to happen, I didn't have the strength to tell my husband NO; I let him continually play with my thighs, pulling down his polka dotted boxes that I was wearing for two whole days with no bath.

As his boxers were to my knees, he went on to slide his three fingers underneath me—trying to masturbate me for both our pleasures.

Although how bad he wanted to, he discontinued doing the action—I wondered why, because I couldn't see because of my belly blocking my view for months now.

He got my attention when he showed me his shaking fingers. I didn't feel anything, so this was a shock to me—like my mind was blown and my heart began racing faster than the usual beat.

After looking at his fingers, I took a look at my bed and noticed that liquid was wetting the sheets and covers.

  This sickness really got me THAT BAD that I didn't even realize that my water broke. I was about to have my baby—baby Amara was soon on her way, in EIGHT months instead of TEN...

Clarence immediately jumped from our bed, putting his shoes back on—tying them fast as I stayed calm like I was never having a baby at all.

He helped me put on some underwear and some sweatpants instead of his boxers this time.

Quickly carrying me down the stairs carefully, Clarence hurriedly grabbed his keys from the kitchen sink counter—rushing back to me as we head out the door to go have this baby.

The whole ride, I looked out the window calmly—not feeling the contractions at all—as if I wasn't having the baby at all.

Looking up, I looked at the sun with my sick and woozy eyes.

The sun burned my eyes intensely—causing me not to see for a few minutes; I immediately thought I was blind, but my vision immediately came back soon after.

An itchy sensation in my throat began to occur as we continued our drive. I scratched it without a care, but I soon realize that the itch wasn't coming from the visible skin; it was coming from within...

Out of nowhere, I became nauseated with sickness. My vomit splatted all over my window, making it hard for me to see anything visible; I didn't react to it, but my husband was petrified at what he was seeing; he was so petrified that his eyes was off the road and all of his frightened attention was all on me.

My vomit was red, painted all over the window as if it was a canvas—the red canvas was actually blood painted on the window.

I took my eye off of the window and realized that we were causing a lot of traffic confusion that ended in us flipping over—flipping over until I hit my head hard against the window with my blood on it.