I’ve finally got around to finishing my entry for this month’s simlit writing competition!
Here are the rules / theme:
I chose the colour pink, traditionally associated with femininity, nurturing, unconditional love as well as sweetness and innocence.
Without further ado, here’s my entry. “Cerise”.
2 Years ago today was when it all changed.
Staggering down the road like a drunken idiot, mumbling incomprehensibly at strangers as I held onto my writhing stomach, desperate for help.
At that point, all I could think about was you, just like now; only different.
See, it all started with a kiss. A small, flirtatious moment in a crowded bar. A moment of spontaneous frivolity.
It felt great to take a risk, to get out of my comfort zone; at least at the time.
Only when the next morning dawned and in my hangover haze I woke in a strangers bed, well; I certainly didn’t feel so great then.
I found out I was pregnant 7 weeks later.
My world ended.
My parents were ashamed, my friends wanted nothing to do with me and the guy? Well, I tried to find him, I really did. No such luck.
My belly grew and my life felt lost. Any ambition I had had left me.
My parents advised me to have my baby adopted, and I thought about it, I’m not going to lie.
I hated the idea that I was to become a mother.
I’m not a maternal person, hell, I wasn’t sure I even wanted kids! Should have thought about that, huh?
I despised this thing growing inside me. I hated that strangers felt it was OK to approach me and touch my swollen stomach, ask me if it was a boy or a girl. I’d just glare at them with glassy eyes.
I don’t care, I wanted to scream in their faces.
I moved to San Myshuno and into the smallest, dingy and most grotty apartment, I told myself I was doing OK. I had everything I needed. If I ignored the letters to see my midwife it was fine, it meant I wasn’t pregnant despite the fact that none of my clothes fit properly and my ankles swelled to twice their size. I was in denial.
As the months dragged on and I fell further into a cold, dark pit of despair I felt kicks. I could make out an arm here, a leg there and my swollen belly contorted with movement that was not my own.
Still, I ignored it. Until that night in February. Then, I could ignore it no longer.
Which takes us back to me staggering down the street in more pain than I could have ever imagined.
I dropped to the floor like a stone as another contraction hit me and before my head met the pavement I was swept up and into the arms of some good Samaritan who hailed a taxi and got me to the hospital.
I kept whispering “I don’t want this, I don’t want this” over and over, but it was happening.
I lay on the hospital bed, sweat dripping from my brow, surrounded by strangers and I pushed.
I pushed with all my might, anything to expel this thing from my body.
Then – amidst the cheers from the midwife I heard you.
You were calling out and time stopped still.
“It’s a girl!” Came the shout and goosebumps prickled my skin, despite the warmth of the room.
A small, slippery, wet being was wrapped in a pink towel and place upon my chest.
Immediately you stopped crying and you looked up at me with big dark eyes and stared; I stared back. You were beautiful.
“What’s her name?” I remember being asked.
I simply couldn’t respond. My breath had been stolen by your beauty.
I had fallen in love with you; My Cerise.