~𝒜𝒹𝒶~
Migraine. A noun. Meaning an extremely severe paroxysmal headache, usually confined to one side of the head and often associated with nausea.
_________________________
⚠️Mentions of SA⚠️
"Marilla won't let me go to Aunt Josephine's party. Can you believe that?" Anne asks, making my head hurt even more.
"Really? How tragic." I reply, keeping my head down.
"Right! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity and she won't let me go." Anne huffs loudly.
My head remains down, shielding my face from the prying eyes of my classmates. I can't bring myself to look anyone in the eye, the weight of my own concerns keeping me isolated even in a crowded room.
"Is that all? My time?" Mr. Phillips raises his voice as he talks to Gilbert. "Tell me, should your father simply give his crops away because someone wants them? Feels he deserves them? No. He should not. Time is money, Mr. Blythe."
"My father's dead, sir." Gilbert says, making the classroom go silent.
"Yes. Well... the metaphor still plays." Mr. Phillips replies coldly.
Diana rushes inside to her seat by Anne. "Where were you? I waited." Anne asks.
"Father has a cold." Diana huffs. "We're not going to Aunt Josephine's party either."
"What? But..."
"Alright, bright little minds, open your readers. Let's pick up from where we last left off." Mr. Phillips calls out.
I can't focus in class. My thoughts keep eating at me.
I haven't had a cycle in almost three months. Not since he touched me. I haven't told anyone. I can't. They would make it out to be something it isn't. The decision weighs heavily on my shoulders as I contemplate confiding in someone, anyone, about the growing unease within me. The echoes of the lesson fades into the background, replaced by the rhythmic pulsing of my own heartbeat, a reminder of the personal struggle I can no longer keep hidden.
***
I emerge from the suffocating classroom, eager to escape the lecture. A sea of students surrounds me, but I can't shake the feeling of isolation. The weight of my secret, coupled with the ever-present headache, intensifies the sense of detachment.
Gilbert, sits beside me and vents his frustrations about Mr. Phillips' unwillingness to provide extra help. His ambitions for medical school clash with the teacher's lack of support, aggravating his frustration. As he voices his annoyance, I feel a twinge of sympathy, recognizing the injustice of his predicament.
Yet, my own internal turmoil simmers beneath the surface. Eventually my patience wears thin. The pounding in my head intensifies, and I snap at him, "Would you please be quiet, Gilbert? I don't have time for this right now," I snap, the words leaving both of us momentarily stunned by their uncharacteristic edge. "I—I need to go." I stand and start to walk towards our trail home.
Gilbert's brows furrow in confusion, he follows after me. "Ada, what's going on? You've been distant all day."
I exhale, frustration and fatigue coloring my tone. "I have a pounding headache, Gilbert. I just need some space, okay?"
His concern is evident, but my internal turmoil makes it difficult to appreciate. "Ada, if something's bothering you, you can talk to me. You know that, right?"
"I appreciate it, Gilbert. I just need to be alone right now," I reply, my tone softer but firm. The weight of my unspoken troubles hovers between us.
He hesitates, searching my eyes for answers. "Alright, if you need anything, I'm here. Please be safe on your way home."
I nod, acknowledging his offer without fully absorbing it. Turning away, I make my way towards home, leaving behind the echo of unfinished conversations and the unspoken tension between us. The chasm deepens, and as I retreat into solitude, the unanswered questions linger in the crisp air, adding another layer of complexity to an already tangled web of emotions.
Upon reaching home, I retreat to my room, seeking refuge from the external pressures that have become too burdensome. The quiet solitude provides a temporary respite, but the looming uncertainty about my own well-being remains, casting a shadow over the sanctuary of home.
I shut and lock my door, I take off all of my clothes and stare at my stomach. I've always been a little bit heavier but the pouch at the bottom of my stomach seems to be poking out more than usual.
What if I am pregnant?
The hushed whispers of societal expectations echo in my mind, reminding me of the potential consequences such a revelation could carry. In the quiet of my room, the gravity of the situation presses upon me, and a deep uncertainty settles in the pit of my stomach.
Alone with my thoughts, I contemplate the implications of this potential life-altering event, unsure of what the future may hold in a society that often dictates the path a woman should tread.
If I am with child. What will I do?
***
I'm stirred awake by the rhythmic sounds of pots and pans clattering in the kitchen. It's Gilbert and Sebastian preparing a meal, I know because I can hear them arguing like they normally do. A sense of warmth and comfort washes over me, and I rise from my nap with a half-smile. The air is infused with the enticing aroma of a home-cooked meal, drawing me toward the source. As I enter the kitchen, the scene unfolds before me, but instead of the familiar faces I expected, Nate stands there, cradling a baby in his arms. The tranquility shatters, replaced by an eerie silence.
His gaze meets mine, a sinister glint in his eyes. The baby's innocent coos contrast sharply with the unsettling atmosphere. Dread courses through my veins as he turns toward me, a twisted smile playing on his lips.
"Hello, darling. Did you sleep well?" he sneers, the words echoing with a malevolence that sends a chill down my spine. I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. "I told you, you can't escape me."
Nate's twisted smile widens, and the silence in the dream stretches, almost suffocating. My attempts to speak are met with a haunting stillness, and the weight of the baby in his arms seems to anchor me to this surreal nightmare.
"Did you really think you could escape, Ada? Foolish girl." he taunts, walking towards me.
I muster the courage to respond, my voice trembling, "What do you want?"
His laughter, cold and devoid of any warmth, echoes in the distorted kitchen. "I want what's rightfully mine," he sneers, tightening his grip on me.
The kitchen seems to twist and contort, mirroring the distortion of reality that Nate represents. His malevolent gaze remains fixed on me, an unspoken threat lingering in the air.
"I told you, Ada," he hisses, taking another step closer. "You can't escape me. Not in your dreams, not in your waking moments. Everywhere you go, everything you see, everything you do. You will only see me."
As the dream's sinister grip tightens, the kitchen scene becomes more grotesque. The dissonance of Nate's laughter and the innocent cry of the baby intensifies, echoing in the distorted reality. I feel a suffocating despair, trapped in the nightmarish tableau.
Suddenly, a jolt courses through my body, and my eyes snap open. The familiar surroundings of my room come into focus, but the fear lingers, clinging to my consciousness. I find myself hyperventilating, my heart pounding in my chest as if still echoing the menacing rhythm of the dream.
"Ada! Ada, wake up!" Gilbert's voice pierces through the remnants of the nightmare. His hands gently shake my shoulders, grounding me in the reality of the room. I'm drenched in cold sweat, the aftermath of the nightmarish encounter with Nate lingering like a ghost.
As I gasp for air, Gilbert's concerned eyes meet mine. "You were having a bad dream," he says softly, offering a reassuring presence. The lingering fear dissipates, but the emotional residue remains, and I clasp onto his presence as a lifeline.
He wraps me in a comforting embrace, and the warmth of his touch begins to dispel the remnants of the nightmare. The real world asserts itself, shattering the illusions created by the dream. I cling to Gilbert, grateful for the anchor he provides in the wake of a dream that felt too real.
"It's okay, Ada. You're safe," he murmurs, the words a soothing mantra. "Do you want to tell me about it?"
"I-It was awful. First it was just you and Bash, and then the kitchen started swirling, and he was there—" I cut myself off as I try to catch my breath.
"He?" Gilbert asks, trying to understand. "Have you had a nightmare like this before?"
"Yes." I say before my throat tries to close up. With a hesitant pause, I take a deep breath, my eyes meeting Gilbert's with a mixture of vulnerability and fear.
"Who is he? Is it Billy?" He asks.
I shake my head. "It's Nate. The man that said there was gold in Avonlea." He urged me to go on. "In the dream, he... he was holding a baby, and he said I can't escape him."
As the words escape my lips, I feel a lump forming in my throat. The nightmare, distorted as it may be, echoes the haunting shadows of the past, a past I had kept hidden from Gilbert. The air in the room becomes charged with a heavy silence, and I steel myself for his reaction.
Gilbert's expression shifts from curiosity to concern, his eyes reflecting an understanding that transcends the dream. Sensing my struggle, he gently squeezes my hand, encouraging me to continue.
"I didn't tell you everything," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "About a month or two before you arrived home, Nate... he hurt me, Gilbert." I choke out a sob. "H-He raped me." Gilbert's brown eyes widen as the words escape my lips. "And I never told anyone. I've carried it alone, and now it's seeping into my dreams, and— he's right. I can't escape him. I just can't." I cry louder as Gilbert pulls me into his chest. My whole body shakes and tears stream down my face and hit his white shirt.
"You should've told me." He whispers into my hair. "I-I should've been here." He pulls back and looks into my eyes. "I always wanted to protect you." A profound sadness darkens Gilbert's eyes as he absorbs the weight of my revelation. "I'm so sorry, Ada. I can't imagine what you've been through, but you don't have to carry it alone anymore."
The weight of his words, filled with empathy and sincerity, begins to lift the burden of isolation. More tears well up in my eyes, a mixture of relief and the rawness of sharing a long-guarded secret.
"I should have told you sooner," I admit, my voice shaky. "But I was afraid, afraid of how you might see me."
Gilbert's expression remains unwavering, his gaze locked onto mine. "Ada, nothing could change the way I see you. You're strong, and you've been carrying this for too long. I'm here for you, no matter what."
His words penetrate the layers of self-doubt and fear, creating a sense of acceptance that begins to dissolve the walls built around my pain. In the quiet embrace of the room, I find solace in the possibility of healing, anchored by the compassion and understanding Gilbert extends. The unspoken shadows that have haunted me for so long now face the light of empathy.
"You said there was a baby in the dream?" He asks. I nod. "We'll get you to a doctor."
"N-No!" I clutch his shirt. "Please, Gilbert, I beg of you. If anyone finds out that I am being checked then I will be labeled a harlot or a floozy-"
Gilbert shushes me. "I can assure you that no one will find out. My doctor is a respectable man but we can wait and go when you feel ready."
"Thank you." I nod, wrapping my arms around him once more.
"My darling, Ada Faye. I am sorry I wasn't here to protect you." He whispers against my forehead.
I shake my head and look back at him. "Do not blame yourself, Gilbert Blythe. It is nobody's fault. It happened and that can't be undone. I have had to learn that and so will you." He seems startled by my statement but he obliges.
Bash knocks at the door, "You two alright in there?"
We then call in unison. "Just peachy."