calicho

More than Morning Sickness

“Shane?” Cal called, ascending the stairs slowly, sure she would pass out or vomit on the stairs if she wasn’t careful. “Shane, baby, I need to talk to you…”

She reached the bedroom that she’d come to figure as her own’s as well as Shane’s, and opened the door slowly. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. “Shane…”

Monster Inside Me

It had been at least a week, and Cal’s whole body still ached. She hadn’t slept well, only when she could cry herself to sleep, and she’d resorted to self-destructive behavior to vent her confusion and frustration. She would forget to eat, forget to shower, then travel to the kitchen and binge in the middle of the night like a zombie. There was something about sitting in the darkness with only the glow of the refrigerator light that comforted her, but she still missed Shane. She needed him, she knew it, but it took her more than seven days to bring herself back to him.

She showered but left with her hair mostly wet, and no makeup. Her phone had died within the first two days, and she let it, not charging it. She didn’t want to talk to Shane or anybody, and she hoped he hadn’t told anybody. Her body rocked limply with the truck as it pulled into his driveway, and she walked into the house as if in a trance.

She returned to his room like it was her own. Never knocking. Never calling. Just walking, lest she pause in it and turn around and disappear again. Shane was laying on the bed, asleep, but the sheets suggested restlessness. She crawled up at the foot of the bed and went to him, falling between his legs with her head on his stomach, exhausted, weak, and giving up.