Envious Desire
22

Chloe’s POV

Numbness...

Paralysis...

Stupefaction...

These terms chronicle my current state as the doctor filters through the multitude of injuries I’ve acquired. The baby... my baby... is no longer in existence.

Cognizant of this horrendous reality shreds the thumping organ under my rib cage to pieces, ripping it out of my fragmented and bruised chest. I miscarried a part of Axle and I, of us. It’s unfathomable to proceed with life, to breathe... exist... conscious I was unable to safeguard our child from the ruthlessness of this rancorous, frigid world.

Tears threaten to spill over as the doctor details my lengthy peregrination of restorative health. She drones on of the necessity for rest and the absolute essential requirement of seeking professional attention for my horrific trauma, should be at the top of my list according to her exasperated explanation.

At this juncture, I welcome the deadening sensation of lifelessness as my rightful residence, my justifiable comeuppance for my incompetence in the preservation of my unborn childs life.

Finally, concluding her extensive, heartless speech, she jams desensitizing medication into my I.V. A warm blanket coats my veins, easing the physical pain, allowing a lightness to hoist my soul from my physique when she twists to face me, “The police will be here soon to speak with you. Please be as honest as possible with them to capture the horrific person who did this to you.” as nonchalant as ever before proceeding to step out.

Tranquility... an unwelcome visitor allowing my tumultuous thoughts to torment me at every unforgiving turn. His acrid breath, his harsh, calloused hands, his rigid, chapped lips, the nauseating scent of his saliva on my flesh... UGH. Shivering at the various horrid memories rampaging my turbulent mind, I seal my orbs in the desperate desire of an obsidian abyss to consume me, capturing me... for eternity.

Every vile word he uttered... rattles in my mind. Every ghastly action he performed... flickers behind my eyelids... everything... is emblazoned in my mind like branding on cattle. The moment he shifted my life, the godawful flinging of my body towards the table... plays as a horrendous gif in my head tormenting me on a vicious cycle of repetition.

The final blow which encumbered me here, hemorrhaging, in a fruitless battle for my unborn child’s right to persevere, which I squandered with my inability to secure their life. Is it even worth it at this point? I’m a vacant space of nothingness... valueless. Saving me was unnecessary, I’m unworthy of inhaling the very air that surrounds me without the little human being whom I was tasked with developing.

As if still in that dank, gloomy, abhorrent location, I can sense a presence within my vicinity. Peeling my weighted eyelids apart, my bronze hues attempt to focus on the form within the doorway.

As the haziness devours me, the image of Axle’s strong physique assembles within the entryway. He was present before, wasn’t he? My mind is a massacre of monumental proportions. Did I fabricate him? Is he a hallucination of a camouflaged desire?

He appears as though he’s floating towards my lifeless body as his figure enlarges, halting beside me. Unable to utter a single syllable, I gaze at him with guilt consuming every cell in my body. A sweet hushed tone fills my ears, “Chloe?”

The exactness of his voice is eerily similar to his genuine vocalization. The sensation of his soft, warm hand on my skin jolts me upright, exhaling a shriek of horripilation of monumental octaves. What the fuck!? How is this sensation a reality?

Taken aback, the figure recedes, hands fling upright, “Chloe! It’s me... Axle.”

Unaccompanied by rational thought, “No, you’re dead! I saw the blood oozing from your body. You can’t be... you were irreversibly injured.”

“No, Chloe I’m right here. I’m alive.” Stretching out his muscular arm in a foolish attempt to envelope my hand, I coil away, shrieking, “SHELLY!”

Is this reality? Is he tangible? Is my tormented mind manifesting a delusional version of the man I love? Is the assuaging medication causing this deadening hallucination or is this my inescapable reality tormenting my mortal soul?

A blazing, bright fire red blur streaks across the room, “Chloe it’s me. It’s okay, I’m here. What’s wrong?” Raising my frail, battered arm, extending a weakened finger to my imaginative figure, she twists to face the form I assumed was created in the chaos of my mind. Stalking to the form, she speaks in hushed tones. The form before me scales to a smaller size out of view. Can she perceive what I’ve concocted in this wretched head of mine?

Returning to face me, “Chloe, I asked him to leave?”

“What do you mean?” Shaking my head from side to side, I’m perplexed by her statement.

Head tilting to the side, her eyes reduce in size, “I’m unsure how to respond to that.”

“He’s not real Shell!” I wail out, casing my contorted face in dried hands.

Eyes slicing, “Chloe, he’s real. He’s here... he’s been here.”

“No, he died,” withdrawing my hands, my head moving back and forth in utter disbelief.

“But you saw him earlier. I saw you look directly at him.” Her voice possesses a matter of factness causing me to question my current state of mind.

“I thought he... I perceived it was...” shutting my eyes, I attempt to make sense of the unhinged state of my scatty mind. Eyebrows becoming one, “I saw him?” Escapes as a whisper.

Nodding her head up and down, “You did Chlo.” Stroking the back of my head with a loving touch, my eyes seal with a feeling of dread.

“But I... he was in my imagination,” staring at the stark, unmalleable white hospital sheets, I recall his image.

“No, Chlo, he’s real. He’s here and he has been the epitome of a hot mess without you.”

Confusion, solace, irascibility, along with despondency consume me in one fell swoop, “I perceived him to be my eternal torment castigation for...” the ability to speak the words into existence of my passing child halted my utterance. Blinking back the hot liquid building within my eyes, “He’s alive?”

An explosion of tears overflow as my emotions filter through one by one. He’s alive, I accepted his demise, I established a life without him as my newfound reality.

Never had I thought seeing his pulchritudinous face was a possibility. I discerned, under no circumstances, would I hear that husky, sultry voice of his, incapable to relish the feel of his bulging biceps coil around my waist.

My conceptualization was my ultimate demise... I hadn’t the slightest notion life would exist outside that horrific daunting situation.

The final emotions consume every fiber of my being... culpability... ignominy... remorsefulness. He’s unaware of the pregnancy. The concept of parenthood was not even a possibility before it was cruelly ripped from his grasp.

How am I to face him now? Apperceptive, the chance for fatherhood was within my hands? To what amount am I capable of peering into his storm gray eyes when I’m at fault.

Shamefaced and demeaned in my incompetence of defending myself, for not devising an effective escape plan, death is a welcomed guest. If I would have allowed that revolting monster to... have me, maybe just maybe, my baby, our baby... would still be amongst us today.

Axle POV

Her ear piercing shriek at my subtle touch was the most horrifying experience of my life. It rattled me in ways I never conceived of. How could my feathery touch cause such foreboding?

Waiting outside of her room, listening to her explain how she thought I was a figment of her imagination pains my chest. How could she favor my nonexistence? What transpired during her abduction to allow such obscene thoughts to permeate her mind? What did she have to endure? The vein in my neck pulses as anger rushes in my veins at the vile images filtering through my head.

FUCK! Why couldn’t I fucking save her. What the fuck was unexplored that her rescue was delayed to the point of delusion?

Shelly emerges from the room, solemn, “Axle, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to see her,” Pain oozes from her eyes uttering each syllable.

“What?” Irritation and devastation lace my voice.

“Hear me out,” placing her hands on my arms, I gawk in her waterlogged emerald eyes.

“She has been through a traumatic event and... she... she was informed you had passed. She needs time to process everything that has transpired over the last few weeks. Please?” She implored for my understanding.

Pleading for Chloe’s health, I had no choice but to agree with reluctance, despite my incessant indispensability for her proximity. A deafening heartbeat emerges, triggering a savage thumping in the side of my head. Falling back, slinking down the wall, I plant on the floor, grasping my head in my tremulous hands, with a tsunami of emotions flooding through me.

“Axle go home. They are not releasing her until tomorrow,” Shelly attempts my habdication.

Explosive to the suggestion, “NO! I’ve experienced enough of a hellacious existence without her within reach. I refuse to abandon her.”

“Axle be reasonable.”

Glaring into her moss colored eyes, “Tell me you would abandon Eric, if it was him lying in that hospital bed and I’ll prance my all the way fucking home,” my voice had the hint of death. An unintentional reaction to her concern.

Her lips smacked together, releasing a huff.

“Okay, I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Just at least get some rest,” she waved me off in defeat.

Giving the slightest nod, a wave of exhaustion washes over every inch of my body. My eyelids resemble cement blocks, easing shut allowing darkness to consume me.

Eyes shooting open, the room comes into focus with the stiffness of my neck. Shutting my eyes, I twist my neck in the hopes of releasing the tension that built up from my slumber outside of her room.

“Morning sleeping beauty.”

Eyes veering towards the voice, Eric is perched on the sofa across the room.

“Fuck you.”

Eric gives a toothy grin at my response. “How are you holding up besides the stiff neck?”

“I’m unsure. She refuses to be within 10 feet of me. She perceives me to be a fucking figment of her imagination. I haven’t the foggiest notion of what the fuck transpired but one thing I’m sure of, it’s my mission to capture them. When I do acquire them, they’ll wish for death by the devil himself. What I have in store for them is unimaginable.”

Eric’s eyes widen at my remark. Shaking my head, “How long have you been here?”

“Since you fell asleep. Shelly was on her way out and explained everything to me. She’ll be back in the morning.”

Rising to my feet, I stretch out the compression. “I’m going to check on her.”

“Bro from what I’m told that’s not a great idea,” raising his hand in the air, he rises from his seat.

“I just need to lay my eyes on her, just to ensure she’s still here. I know it doesn’t make any fucking sense but I need to,” my head throbs with the notion of her disappearing again, paranoia seizing every crevice of my mind.

Eric opened up his mouth to rebut but snapped it shut, nodding his head instead.

Stepping towards her room my heartbeat escalates to an exasperated speed. I halt, unsure what actions to take since her disappearance was so extensive. Inhaling a deep breath in a feeble attempt to compose myself, I enter the room to be met by horrified hues of plum, indigo, and canary splashed on her beguiling face. The bruising engulfs the entirety of the left side of her face, a harrowing black eye, a swollen and unspeakable busted lip. My heart compresses, unable to beat.

Trailing her exposed limbs, sickening views of tattered skin, scabbed scratches, along with more hellish bruising encircling her wrist, grace the once velvety soft skin of her now fragile physique.

Easing my way to her bedside, withholding my breath, I scrutinize her vulnerable physique, anger soars within, fist clenching, bringing my white knuckles to my mouth, diving my teeth into my flesh in frustration. Blood seeps on to my lips unaware of the ferociousness of my bite.

Making a declaration to her in the softest octaves possible, “I promise you Chloe. I will replace the bastard who dared to touch you. He will compensate for his horrific actions. His suffrage will not compare to the pain he had the audacity to ever inflict on you. I promise you Chloe... he will die by my bare hands.

~~~

Chloe is tormenting herself for the loss of their child.

Axle is an emotional hurricane of emotions.

Thoughts? Theories?

Follow me:

Instagram/Snapchat/Tiktok: Marie_Terry_Author

Facebook/Twitter: Marie Terry Author

😘😘See you Soon!!!💙💙💋💋

© 2022 Marie Terry