32. Yellow
Chapter thirty-two
Yellow
Astoria
One month later
I’m sitting at the foot of the toilet, vomiting. Julian combs his hair, staring into the mirror above the sink, getting ready for work. He got his wish. I’m still pregnant. I’ve been vomiting for an entire week and have had very little sleep. I’ve lost more than ten pounds. Only when he connects me to an IV can I sleep in peace. I hate my life, I hate him, but more than anything, I hate myself, especially my body.
This poor baby. What will I do?
I've started showing, and he smiles every time he catches me caressing the belly. I thought everything he did that day when we listened to the heartbeat for the first time was all just another trick, but he has maintained the nice facade. He provides all three meals, always puts a bottle of water within my reach, and takes me outside every day. He leaves home an hour earlier so that the sun is still out when he returns for our walk since summer is ending.We watch shows and movies together like a real couple, and he buys me books so that I have something to do while he's at work.
I will not lie. Some nights are pure hell, he wakes up and rapes me. I’m used to it now. It’s when he insists I suck his dick all night long that I can’t take. At least this week, with all the morning sickness, he hasn't touched me, not like that.
I flush the toilet, doubting it's over. “I feel like it’s getting worse, Julian. I need a doctor.”
He places the comb on the sink and kneels in front of me, cupping my cheeks.“Women gave birth to children for thousands of years without doctors. Besides, you know I have the knowledge to take care of you. You’re fine. I know it sucks, but this is natural. It’s even a sign of a healthy baby.”
I devolve into sobbing, feeling so weak and like such a mess, but I can’t stand that I’m going to be alone for the next eight hours. “Please stay. Don’t leave me alone like this. I’m scared, Julian. Please!”
“Oh, my sweet girl. I miss you too, but if I miss work now, how am I going to help you after you give birth?”
“Please, Julian. Just for today."
“I’ll bring you some cake from downstairs. That will help settle that little runt in there. Okay?” He smiles and leaves.
Six Months Pregnant
It’s the middle of the night and I’m exhausted. The baby moves too much, allowing me little rest. Just when I doze off, Julian’s mouth covers my sore breast. I whimper, my hands pushing him with minimal pressure, but he takes my wrists with an amount of force he hasn’t used on me for many months and pins them to the bed. The sucking sends excruciating electrical pain into my breast, stealing my voice and breath. He knew my tits were sore because I’d asked him if he knew if there was anything I could do. It’s not like I can look it up because he still doesn’t trust me with anything that would allow me to contact anyone.
“Julian. That hurts. Please… stop.”
His fingers flick at my clit. The pleasure spreads at lightning speed. I’m used to it now. It’s my role with him. It’s not like I could ever escape him, not now with this huge belly, certainly not now that I’m pregnant with his child, so I’ve accepted that he will take me whenever he wants. My needs and desires have no meaning.
“Julian,” I call in a frenzy, my chest rising and falling, my heart attempting to run out of my chest. The rush from the climax clouds my thoughts, and euphoria calms all my fears and anxieties. It’s so easy now. He can even make me come on command. Julian says it’s because of the hormones.He stops sucking and stares at me under the light of a bright full moon. Our eyes search each other.
“What?” I ask.
“It’s past midnight,” he responds and the smile spreading on his face changes the hammering of my heart to the beat of fear instead of pleasure.
“Oh?” My eyebrows scrunch up, wondering what he's referring to.
“It’s our anniversary, baby. One year to the day you came here to live with me,” he says it as if I ran away from home to be with him–as if this were the happily ever after part of a fairy tale. My heart sinks. Whatever hint of a smile I had on my face is gone. I try to fake one but I can’t. He releases my wrists and pushes my hair behind my ears.My blood runs cold and I swallow deep at the happiness he's displaying. What will he do to me now? “Happy anniversary. I took the day off.”
I sit up, nauseous, trying to resist with every fiber of my being to run out of this room yet staring at the wide-open door.
“Are you okay?” He follows me, sitting right next to me.
“Uh. Yeah. I’m fine. I just need a minute to catch my breath.”
One year. How am I even sane? Maybe I’m not.
“You look so beautiful.” His hands caress my belly and I want to scream at him to not touch it. I once did that and he slapped me but quickly forgave me, telling me he loved how protective I was of the baby already.
“Thank you for being the mother of my child, Astoria.” How can he sound so sincere? His fingers dig into my jaw as he forces me to let him kiss my cheek.
Suddenly, a drop of liquid drips out of my nipple and Julian catches sight of it right away. What is happening? I’m only six months pregnant. Doesn’t this only happen after I give birth? He gasps too, looking so happy while watching it happen again and again. Julian squeezes my breast, making the milk leak faster. My cry fills the room at the pain when his hot mouth sucks without mercy. I slap his arms in several places, try to push him away but that only ends in his pulling at it so I stop. The whole time I can't contain my moans. When I can't stand it anymore, I call his name, begging.
“Fuck, I love your body." Julian breathes, sounding helpless before taking my breast again and pulling the liquid out. "Come, baby.” He pulls me to sit on him and the way his fingers dig into my skin, let's me know he wants me to fuck him. I feel betrayed, as if my breasts are begging him to suck more.
I try to position myself so that it goes into my pussy but Julian moves his cock into my ass and pulls me down, slamming into me. The pain shoots through me, making me scream and tremble, and my nails dig into his skin, drawing blood. I arch my neck back while sobbing. The image of us stares back at me from the mirror on the ceiling. His cock stays deep inside, stretching me, forcing me to get used to it while he kisses me everywhere. I watch and feel him. Occasionally, he groans, letting me know he's anxious for more, wanting me to satisfy him. The sound melts my pussy, and soon it becomes easy for me to move my hips so he's sliding in and out of me. His sucking pulls milk and frequent moans out of me. I discover the brief relief when he empties the first breast. Instead of stopping, he squeezes, then moves to my other breast. I try to push him away again but he resists. "Julian!" I sob. "Please."
"So fucking delicious…"
Eventually, the need to pleasure him, to make him come, overwhelms me. I slowly rock back and forth with him balls deep inside me, every sweeping of my walls drawing cries. He crosses my arms behind me and fucks me faster from under. The speed shocks me into stopping the swinging of my hips. With my eyes closed, I angle my face toward the ceiling again while only taking little breaths here and there, trying to survive him. Different pains clash and the pleasure rises, slowly filling every corner of me. I moan like a bitch, fast and a lot and at a high pitch. He mirrors my sounds with moans and by sucking and thrusting into me harder, as if he wants to hear me scream. It becomes so aggressive that the tears and sobbing can't be stopped.
We look beautiful from above. My body and the curve of my ass cheeks bounce from the impact of his fucking. The obsession this perfectly built man carries for me is incomprehensible. If only he weren't so cruel, but I can't find forgiveness for him. He's ruined my life, my mind, my body just for his own entertainment. Yet that exact obsession plays a part in how my body heats and my eyes roll. He wants me, only me, no one else.
By the time he empties that breast the other is already heavy and aching again. The milk rushes out of me faster this time. Every part of my body wants to satisfy him. I can't resist or hide it anymore. I rock my hips, fucking him so that his dick fills me deeper. He doesn't stop but my movements and willingness drive him to groan and moan even more. Quickly, my walls clamp and release again and again. Pleasure overrides pain and quakes through my entire being. I'm out of breath, half whimpering, half sobbing.
We are not moving but he's still hard deep inside me. The whimpers and sobs trembling out of me, make the intense quivering of my walls on his cock bearable. I only dare to look at his face so that I can silently beg him not to continue but by now I know that would be a miracle.
"That's my pretty bird." He pulls it out to plunge it back in.
I wail his name while lifting my hips and pulling my wrists from his tight hold, hugging him, trying to restrict his moving. Thank God, he gives me more time to recuperate, to not have him so deep inside. I try not to get fooled by his gentle kisses on my midsection, by repeating to myself that they aren't out of love. Our breaths are heavy trembling in unison.
A desperation builds in me to stop all of it. I can't take it anymore of this. I try to move away but he pulls me down and continues fucking me from underneath. I'm still coiled too tight on him, and it hurts. I can't let his cock go. Harrowing cries slip out of me. "Julian–Julian, no. I can't!"
"That's it," he repeats. "That's my good girl."
“Julian, I can’t–please–”
“You love it.”Julian swings his hips faster, harder. "Take it!"
"Please!" I cry.
It feels like a punishment that I deserve. His words force me to accept that he's right. Already my body is building up for another climax and somehow I'm craving for his come to fill me and mark me as his in the most repugnant manner. He stops sucking on me, turns me away. I have to support myself on my hands and knees. I only get five rushed breaths to recuperate before he plunges right back in, but in this position, it's much deeper.
I stare at the reflection of us on the wall mirror. My overgrown breasts swing while dripping. His perfect body fucks me like a maniac. Watching him acting so desperate heats me again, as if he's contaminating me with his psychotic need to break me. I want him to do it now. My craving to pleasure him, to feel his cock hurting and stretching my walls, to have him dirty them with his come, has blinded me from the pain but it oozes out through the loud continuous whimpers that are pouring out of me with every thrust.
"I know pretty bird. I know. It's coming." The words don't comfort me. I need to feel, see, and hear his ultimate satisfaction, more of his cock to break me.
"Deeper," I beg but he doesn't push all the way in. "Please" Our heavy hurried breaths synchronize. I screech louder as my body slowly coils. "Oh my God! Please! I need it." The climax spreads through me and I can't help screaming when his cock stretches in the deepest parts of my ass. "Fuck!"
He groans, making my walls quiver again. A long savage cry escapes me. "I need your come. Please. Please. Please!"
Julian and I both groan as his cock engorges to fill me with what I've been truly wanting. "Yes! Yes! Yes," I scream with every warm spill, and crash back against him, not caring that I'm looking like a deranged whore.
We both collapse and try to catch our breaths. Because of my belly, I'm on my side. My insides are raw but the warmth of his come soothes it. I'm both honored to once again be marked by him in the way that pleases him and nauseated by my behavior, my hunger to be fucked like that, there, by him. An emptiness full of excruciating desolation stabs me. There's no comfort anywhere. A hunger to tear something or someone apart overwhelms me. But I can't overpower, torture, or destroy him. I fist the sheets and cry in silence. There's no doubt in my mind that I'm in hell.
"I love you." His deep voice pronounces.
Slowly I turn. I must be hallucinating. His staring is soft. The declaration seems authentic. Love? My brows wrinkle in confusion, disbelieve and then my eyes widen at the realization that he's serious. It takes my breath away. I'm glad he quickly dozes off because then I don't need to say it back. In that minute, I detest him to my core. He has won. He has made my body enjoy him raping me, once again. I've become his desperate disgusting whore.
Eight months pregnant
When I open my eyes, I can’t remember when Julian left. I brush my teeth, shower, and put on a nightgown. It’s all he allows me to wear. Quickly, I walk to the dresser where Julian leaves food for me, then grab the book I'm reading. Too soon, I have to run to the bathroom to vomit. Cramps, like the ones I used to have before Julian operated on me, squeeze my belly. They come every few minutes.I have no way to contact him, no way to get out of here because I’m still attached to the neck collar. I think my water just broke. What am I supposed to do all alone?
Hours after, a bunch of liquid flushes out of me. Shit.
By the time I hear his shoes slap the wooden stairs, the contractions are overlapping, and stabbing me. The agony has drained all my energy and stolen my voice. My body is covered with fat beads of sweat. It’s not only the squeezing of my belly but something is yanking at my spine.
“Pretty bird?” he calls from the hall.Then at the door to the bathroom, I finally hear his concern. “Tory! What’s wrong?”
“The… baby. Pleas–” I’m panting, trying to get as much air into my lungs as possible. “Help–please. Hospital. Please.” When he slips his arm under mine to pick me up I cry into his shoulder and scream again as my spine rips.
“Tory, it’s too early.”
“Please… hospital, Ju–please. The baby. Please.”
“Shh. Calm down. I’ve got you, baby. I do.” He unlocks me from the neck collar.
The pain returns, my eyes widen, and I can’t help but fist what little of his skin I can.“Fuck!” I cuss at the same time he says, “Ow.”
“Help,” I keep crying and begging.
“I am , little bird. I promise.”
As soon as I see the syringe I panic. “No. What are you doing? Don’t drug me, Julian. It will… hurt the baby. Pl–” It’s too late. My eyes roll back and the world fades.
When my eyes flutter open, I can see a hint of the morning light. The first thing I notice is the emptiness and lightness of my belly. Without looking, my hand lifts to caress it but find nothing but flatness. I'm no longer carrying our baby. It takes me a while to remember what happened. I went into labor, but I’m only eight months along. The baby wouldn’t be ready, even I know that. Julian… he drugged me. What did he do? It’s gone. How is that possible? A small drop of hope keeps me from sobbing myself to death, maybe the baby is alive after all.
Julian is by my side, sleeping. The door to the room is open and I’m not chained. Slowly, I get up and walk to the small crib he bought, but as I suspected, it’s empty. I grab the yellow blanket from inside. It smells like fabric softener.
God, I’ve wanted nothing so bad in my life as wanting to hold my baby. The emptiness in my arms, in the blanket, stabs me with every breath I take. I should’ve been the one to die. I hold up the blanket to muffle my anguished cry that fails to stop the pain. The blanket is yellow because, in my culture, that’s what you get when you don’t know the sex. If it’s a girl, pink, if it’s a boy, blue, if you don’t know… then yellow like the sunrise, like the best parts of the day–like a big star that shines all the darkness away.
I try to keep my sobbing silent, but it hurts to be a fraction again. I miss being two. Two was so delicious, so comforting, so warm. Never apart. So strong together that we even managed to soften the devil into believing he loved me if only for just a second. I provided for him and he used to do cartwheels inside me, but I never yelled at him. I never told him that playing at three o’clock in the morning was not letting me sleep. Maybe I didn’t hold my belly enough. Maybe I didn’t talk to him enough to let him know how much I wanted him, that I had changed my mind, needed and loved him with all my heart and soul. Maybe God heard all my prayers at the beginning and punished me for them by granting my wish. God, I hate being a fraction. It hurts so much. I’m so sorry, baby. So, sorry.
I don’t want to wake Julian. There’s no sign of the baby anywhere which means my baby is dead. But where is his body? What did he do to my baby?Where is my baby? After I weep myself into a state of numbness, I put a nightgown on, take the yellow blanket with me, and walk down the stairs. With his jacket and shoes on, I open the front door. By walking out, I’m begging for him to kill me, but nothing matters anymore.
My baby is dead.
My only reason for living is gone.
It’s freezing outside. My entire body is off kilter so I can only walk at a snail's pace. I’ve watched Julian drive out to work through the bedroom window many times, so I know that the real exit to the property is on the other side of the house.
I walk and walk and walk, even when I want to give up, even when the wind freezes my face, my bare legs, I just keep walking.