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Biting down so hard on my lip that I could feel the familiar taste of metallic copper on my tongue, I slowly positioned myself in the center of the large, oval tub and hooked my arms around my bunched-up knees.
I had a lot of time to think, to clear my head and make sense of my surroundings.
Now that I wasn't under constant threat of rape or death, and was actually getting decent sleep at night, I found myself slowly piecing my thoughts back together.
I felt myself steadying the ship that was my mental wellness.
A little more clear-headed than before, I found myself plotting.
Plotting and planning and scheming was a favorite pastime of mine.
Before, I wasted my days plotting vengeance on Fabio.
Now, I spent every second of my days plotting and planning the future of the baby in my womb.
In three days, Trigger would return home from his latest excursion. That meant I had three days to figure out how to change his mind.
Exhaling heavily, I turned my face to one side and rested my cheek on my knees, trying not to think too much about something I wasn’t sure I would be able to keep, but desperately wanted to.
I knew full well that if I let myself fall in love with this baby and Trigger took it away from me, I would never be able to recover mentally.
So I broke my thoughts down to small, bite-sized pieces and kept my mind focused on the only part of this pregnancy I dared to think about.
Changing Trig’s mind.
If I couldn’t, then I would have to kill him.
It was that simple.
When I felt myself begin to panic at the thought of losing either Trigger or the baby, I forced my mind to go completely blank.
I need tonotlose the small amount of sanity I had reclaimed.
"What do you think, Peter?" I asked, eyes locked on the beautiful African Grey Parrot lounging in a cage next to the tub. I had found him next to my bed the morning after Trigger told me that I had to have an abortion. "Is Trig a cocksucker?"
"Cocksucker," Peter dutifully squawked back. "Fuckin' cocksucker. Cocksuckin' Trig!"
Grinning, I pressed my face against my knees and giggled. "You're right. He's a bad wolf."
"Bad cocksuckin' fuckin' wolf," he squawked back, swinging on his little swing set. "Fuckin' Trig."
"He's not so bad," I confessed. "Usually. But he's forgotten who he is." Sighing heavily, I reached up and wiped my face, enjoying the heat from my hands. "He's scared."
"Scaredy wolf, scaredy wolf," Peter parroted.
"God, I love you," I chuckled, feeling my smile stretch my cheeks.
"Forgive me," Peter squawked then. "Please. Please. Cocksuckin' Trig."
The smile fell from my face.
Yeah, I really needed tostopconfiding in the bird.
Regretting telling Peter every last one of my secrets, I closed my eyes and let my mind wander past the baby growing inside me, delving into the deepest, saddest moments of my life.
Like always, my memories took me straight back to that night two years ago.
The beginning of my end.
