After that night, nothing was hidden anymore.
Jon stopped pretending to be gentle when we were alone. The care in his eyes vanished, replaced by something cold and watchful. I learned quickly that silence was safer than questions, obedience safer than resistance.
Fear became my daily companion.
I moved through the house carefully, measuring every word, every step. Even breathing felt like something I needed permission to do. My body grew weaker by the day, but my mind stayed painfully alert, replaying his words over and over again.
I did it. All of it.
The baby inside me became the only reason I kept going. I spoke to my stomach in whispers when Jon wasn't around, apologizing for bringing a life into such darkness. I promised my unborn child that I would protect them, even if I couldn't protect myself.
But promises mean little when you are trapped.
The night everything collapsed, the pain was different. Sharper. Deeper. It started in my abdomen and spread like fire. I curled on the floor, gasping, my hands slick with sweat. I called Jon's name until my voice cracked.
He looked annoyed when he finally came.
"You're being dramatic again," he said, though his eyes lingered on the blood seeping through my clothes.
At the hospital, the lights were too bright. Nurses spoke quickly, their faces tense. Someone asked me questions, but my answers came out broken, incomplete. Jon stood beside me, his hand on my shoulder, calm and convincing.
"She's under a lot of stress," he told them. "She panics easily."
They nodded.
They always did.
I was placed on a bed, white sheets beneath me slowly turning red. My body felt distant, like it no longer belonged to me. The pain blurred into something dull and constant, like waves crashing without pause.
I reached out blindly, not sure what I was reaching for.
My mother's face flashed in my mind.
My father's laugh.
The child I would never hold.
Tears slid down my temples and disappeared into the pillow.
I realized then that no one was coming to save me.
As my vision darkened, I felt an unexpected calm. My body relaxed, surrendering. The machines around me beeped steadily, then more slowly.
If this was the end, I welcomed it.
At least pain would stop.