I can see my bubble, shimmering and fragile, floating just above the surface. I am deep in the bathtub, submerged in the lukewarm water that has long lost its warmth.
My body feels weightless, yet heavy, as though I'm sinking into something deeper than water.
I struggle to pull myself up, my fingers slipping against the slick porcelain. My scream is swallowed by the water, a muted, gurgling cry for help that no one can hear.
Panic surges through me as I claw at the sides of the tub, finally managing to grip the edges. My knuckles turn white as I pull myself up, inch by inch, my body resisting, my mind caught between two worlds—life and the abyss.
Air. I gasp desperately, my lungs burning as they fill again. I cough, water dripping down my chin, my chest heaving. I sit there, shaking, staring at the bathroom tiles, my vision blurred by the sting of chlorine and tears.
What the heck am I thinking? I almost—no, I just tried to off myself.
But I couldn't.
I couldn't bring myself to do it.
The realization hits me like a freight train. I failed.
Or did I succeed? My mind is a storm, swirling with questions I don't have the strength to answer.
I push myself out of the now-cold water, wrapping a towel tightly around my body. My skin is pruned, my hair clings to my face in wet strands.
I shiver—not from the cold, but from something deeper, something raw and gnawing inside me.
"Why are you making excuses for him, Helen?"
Dr. Dave's voice slices through my thoughts, his firm tone reverberating in my head.
My heart lurches. I shake my head vigorously, water droplets flying, trying to clear my ears, maybe even clear his voice from my mind.
But it lingers, like an echo I can't escape.
"No, Dan wouldn't... he loves me," I whisper, more to myself than anyone else.
A desperate attempt at reassurance.
Dr. Dave just doesn't get it. And Dom—he's all over me. Too much.
I stare at my reflection in the foggy mirror, tracing my trembling fingers down my stomach. My skin is cool to the touch, but beneath it—
A baby.
There was life inside me. And I felt... nothing. How can that be? How can something so monumental be happening inside me, and yet I didn't feel it?.
My mind is a mess, a tangled web of fear, doubt, and disbelief.
Everything is happening too fast. I need to talk to the doctor.
I need to talk to Selena. She's been acting like nothing happened since I fainted at school.
But something did happen. Something changed. Something died the moment I blacked out. And she won't tell me what.
I have too many questions. I need answers. And the only way to get them is to go back to school.
I pull on a different hoodie, something loose enough to make me feel invisible. A pair of comfortable trousers. Sneakers. My hair goes up into a quick bun. Practical. Unassuming.
The house is eerily silent. Mom, Dad, and Mrs. May are nowhere in sight.
Relief washes over me. But downstairs, I spot Saint, lounging on the couch, her phone in hand.
I hesitate, my voice barely above a whisper. "Could you take me to school?"
She looks up, startled. There's shock in her eyes, like she wants to ask something but doesn't. I hope she doesn't sense what I nearly did upstairs. I hope she doesn't see it in my face.
"Definitely," she says after a pause, as if confirming that I really just spoke to her like a normal person for once.
I slip into the passenger seat, waiting as she retrieves the car keys. The moment she slides in beside me, I rest my head against the seat, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts.
Questions gnaw at me, endless, persistent.
I feel her gaze lingering.
"Isn't it a bit late to be going to school?" she asks, her voice careful.
I don't look at her.
"I have something important to pick up." A lie. But it's easier than the truth.
She doesn't push.
"Okay. Do you want me, waiting for you?"
I swallow hard, nodding slightly before whispering, "Yes, please."
The car hums to life, rolling forward. And as we move, I can't shake the feeling inside me.
I step into the clinic, my heart pounding in my chest. The smell of antiseptic fills my nostrils, and the hum of soft chatter echoes through the hallway.
Almost immediately, I am faced with the same nurse who attended to me on that exact day.
"Hello," she says with a warm smile, recognizing me instantly.
I don't smile back. I couldn't bring myself to. My lips feel heavy, my throat dry.
"Uhm," I stammer.
"Can I see the doctor who took care of me the other day?" My voice is barely above a whisper.
"Do you have an appointment with him?" she asks, tilting her head slightly.
"Not really, but I have questions I need him to answer," I reply nervously, shifting on my feet.
She gives me a sympathetic look.
"You'd have to schedule an appointment to check in with him. Do you want me to set one up for you?"
I didn't have that kind of time. I needed my answers today. I wasn't sure I could walk out of here and still feel like myself without something,
anything—to hold onto.
I pause, then meet her eyes. "I think you were assigned to the doctor that day. Can I ask you instead?"
"Sure," she says, her smile bright and reassuring. She gestures for me to follow her to her office.
I take a seat opposite her, my fingers nervously intertwined. She leans forward slightly, her expression patient.
"So, what are your questions?" she asks gently.
I take a deep breath. "The day I lost my baby... how was I brought in?"
Her brows furrow slightly. "You mean, how you got here?"
I nod. "I'm trying to piece everything together. I didn't even know I was pregnant."
She exhales softly, nodding. "Things like this happen.
And in your case, the pregnancy was quite early, it had just begun to develop. It was only a week old."
My face twists in confusion. "I had always been careful."
The nurse offers a knowing smile. "No method is one hundred percent effective. Sometimes, life just... happens."
I shake my head. "How could I not have known? I didn't feel any symptoms."
"That depends on the individual. Some people don't experience noticeable symptoms.
But the doctor did run tests that day, and we found that you were under extreme stress. In fact, your blood pressure was dangerously high. We suspected that was the cause."
I sink into the chair, the weight of her words pressing down on me.
"With your case, I'm sure you experienced mood swings—crying spells, irritability, emotional instability. Your symptoms may have been more mental and emotional rather than physical."
I nod, finally understanding. She was right. It all made sense now. The sudden waves of sadness, the frustration, the confusion, it was all connected.
"And how was I brought in? I remember blacking out."
The nurse's eyes soften.
"Oh, child… your clothes were completely soaked with blood. Your two friends,especially the young man who brought you in—did an exceptional job. He even got his own clothes stained, but he didn't care. He was—"
She stops when she notices the discomfort on my face.
His name is on the tip of her tongue, but she doesn't say it. And I'm grateful.
I remember how I lashed out at him in front of the school, the way his face fell, the hurt in his eyes. A lump forms in my throat.
"I must have said too much," she says apologetically.
"No… it's just… things are complicated right now," I say, my voice small.
She nods, understanding. "It's normal to feel this way—depressed, lost, confused. I mean, someone was growing inside you, and now, suddenly, they're not. Your body is adjusting, and that affects everything—your emotions, your mind, your daily life."
Her words hit me hard. A vivid image of the bathtub flashes in my mind. The water, the struggle, the suffocating silence.
"Are you okay?" she asks, her voice softer this time.
I force a smile, blinking away the thoughts. "Thank you so much. This actually helped," I say, standing up.
The nurse smiles warmly. "Anytime. And please, take the prescribed medications. If you feel overwhelmed, don't hesitate to come back, alright?"
I nod and walk back slowly to the car where Saint is waiting. The silence between us is thick, but I welcome it.
She doesn't ask me anything, doesn't probe. She just drives, her eyes occasionally flickering toward me.
As we pull up to my house, I turn to her. "Please… don't mention anything to my parents."
She doesn't say anything for a moment, then nods, like she knows something,
"I won't." She says calmly.