Day/Theme: May 10 The night grows darker yet
Word Count: 829
Written For: 31_days Note: If this sounds familiar, it is an extension of a drabble I did for drabbles100 - I was keen to further the story
She knew she shouldn’t be out. She knew Wyatt would kill her for not taking care of herself – or taking care of ‘their’ future. The truth was she wasn’t so happy with the bright balloon-fluffy bunny image that he kept portraying. The first sign of it had freaked her out completely. He’d spent the next hour and a half trying to calm her down, not to mention being furious with her for jumping to such drastic conclusions through fear. The further this went, the more scared she became, but every time she relented to Wyatt’s big plans. She knew he was intelligent, far more than she, and with the parentage he was derived from she had no reason not to believe that he was right. But that kind of servility was beginning to wear on her independence. She couldn’t not do this. She needed this.
White on black, black on white. Blinding pain. Specs of red. Everything before her faded to nothing, every feeling swallowed by the hurt. The ground felt very far away, although she knew it was not so with the speed she hit it.
Bianca kept her eyes closed as she regained consciousness, fearful of what she would be waking to. Silence. Whispered voices. Wyatt? Although she didn’t want to listen, she still heard.
“She’s okay, but she lost the baby.”
She knew they were talking about her. Shielding the tears as sobs overtook her body she mourned the hollow feeling inside. It was an emotional void. Physically she was unsure if she was empty, and that uncertainty made her cry harder. She couldn’t understand how she couldn’t know, how she couldn’t feel anything. She had to eavesdrop on people who didn’t know her at all to find out exactly what she was meant to comprehend on her own.
“Baby,” Wyatt said softly.
She heard him by her side, but his movements had not reached her ears. She was so contained within herself that it did not surprise her that his approach had been almost stealth-like. Slipping his fingers under her palm he lifted her hand from her face. The action was soft and yielding, but she turned her face away from him, feeling ashamed. He gripped her hand a little tighter, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand.
“B, what happened?” he prompted quietly.
She didn’t answer. She didn’t want to hear him blame her. She knew it was her fault. She knew she should have listened to him. Every ill thought she’d had was now bleeding into reality. She had willed things this way. She couldn’t face him, she couldn’t speak to him. She remained silent as the hours passed, tears receding to numbness.
The night grows darker yet and Bianca finds, despite her ignorance, he still won’t leave. Even when visiting hours were long over and the nurses chaperoned him out the door, he still orbed himself back in. Now he sits in a chair by the door, his chin lowered onto his folded hands in thought, waiting in the blackness for a shining light or a little ray of hope; waiting for his fiancé to say something.
“Why won’t you leave?” she finally asked. Wyatt lifted his gaze towards the bed.
“Because I’m worried.”
“You don’t need to be. It’s over.”
Pushing himself out of the chair, Wyatt made his way over to the bed and sat down on the soft mattress, looking down at her.
“What did you do?”
Bianca quickly turned her head away, tears again beginning to well in her eyes. “I knew you’d blame me.”
“Bianca, I’m not accusing you of anything. I just want to know what happened.”
“I went out. I did too much. This thing went away like I wanted it to.”
“Baby,” Wyatt said, habitually placing his hand on her stomach. She cringed at the touch, squeezing her eyes shut as fresh tears slipped down her cheeks. “I know you cared more than that.”
She shook her head, unable to form the words she needed to say, forcing out two syllables: “You did.”
“I was trying to protect you. Both of you,” he said looking forlornly to where his hand lay. Hesitantly he pulled his hand away. “I could have fixed this.”
“How?” she asked. “It’s better this way. I would have just screwed them up like I was. We were deluded to think we could have a normal life, a family.”
“We can if we try,” he said, taking her hands into his. “My family survived it and they had me to contend with. I turned out okay, didn’t I?” She didn’t agree nor disagree, but he could tell she believed him from the wan smile she tried to give in reply. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.”
“It’s okay,” she said inaudibly.
“Just because we lost the baby doesn’t mean we’ve lost each other. I love you, B.”
Tentatively he leant down and kissed her.
“Love you,” she whispered back.