54. Simone
Simone
I wake up in so much pain I can barely breathe. It’s so sharp I have to pull my knees to my chest, trying to ease it. I can’t move or take in a breath without feeling like my stomach is ripping open. It takes everything in me not to cry from how bad it is.
The room is still dark, and the sheets are sticking to me from the sweat breaking out on my body.
I hate sweating.
I reach around for my phone, and when I find it, I turn it on, the light almost blinding me from how bright it is.
The phone falls from my hands when another cramp starts, making me gasp.
“Shit,” I whisper. “Fuck, ow.”
I slowly try to move to my other side, hoping it will give me some relief, but nothing is helping.
I’m a girl; I’ve had plenty of cramps in my lifetime, but this…
this is different. This isn’t the kind of cramps that make you pull out the heating pad, turning it all the way up, and popping a Midol, swearing you’re never having kids, because who is voluntarily signing up for this kind of pain birthing a child?
This is so much worse than any normal cramps I’ve had before. This feels like something is wrong…really wrong.
More cramping starts before I can even recover from the last one, making me wince and grit my teeth. I press down on my lower stomach, praying for it to stop. I can’t even move an inch, let alone get up from the bed.
I turn my head and see that only Lani is here. The sun is just now coming up, and Lydia had group this morning before her classes, so she’s already gone for the day.
I’m trying to breathe through the pain, but I just want to scream at how insane this feels.
Okay.
Okay.
It’s my period.
It’s just my period.
My period, who is late.
I know it’s late because I checked yesterday…and the day before that…and the day before that—like a psycho, like someone who’s trying really hard not to think about the fact that she has been tired and nauseous and weirdly emotional recently and just blaming it all on college life.
I’ve missed two periods, but that’s normal for me. My cycles have been irregular ever since I started getting them at thirteen. This has to be it coming. But damn, it’s like they get backed up or something and hurt more the longer I go between having them.
Once the cramping eases up a little, I try to sit up and regret it immediately. My vision goes white, and I’m instantly dizzy as the pain comes back full force. I have to grip the side of the mattress until it passes and the room steadies.
I throw my legs over the bed, needing to get up, but the room tilts from how lightheaded I feel.
But I push through it, needing to get to the bathroom, needing to know if this is actually my period or not.
I pull myself up and press my palms to the bed, the wall, and to the door until I’m out of the room and heading down the hall.
Every step is painful. Every time I move slightly wrong or breathe in too deeply, the pain shoots through my abdomen and through my entire body, racking me with pain.
It feels like there’s a knife being shoved into my uterus as slowly and as deeply as possible.
When I finally get to the community bathrooms down the hall, I throw the door open, making the lights come on from the sensors. It’s too quiet in here at this time, and every sound feels jarring.
I walk in, still holding onto my stomach until I move one of my hands to grip the side of the sink, steadying myself. When I look up, my face is paler than I’ve ever seen it before. I almost don’t recognize myself like this.
I can’t even seem to care how I look right now, though, still feeling like I’m actually dying. A cramp hits hard again, and I double over, making a sound I’ve never made before. It’s so painful I want to drop straight to the floor, but I can’t. I need to get to a stall.
Now.
I rush over and shove one of the stall doors open, just barely getting my pants down and sitting down before a heavy rush leaves my body.
Relief floods me instantly, knowing I was right and this was just my period—just a really bad one.
I place my hand on the wall, trying to catch my breath from my pain, when I realize that blood is still coming out.
It hasn’t stopped yet. I look down, and there’s so much blood, way more than normal.
My stomach drops when the relief I just felt is quickly replaced with more fear because the pain doesn’t stop or lighten up like it normally does; it gets… worse.
“Oh my gosh,” I whisper as a tear slips down my face.
It feels like my uterus is contracting, trying to force something out. The feeling makes my skin crawl, and the sirens in my head start blaring that this isn’t normal. I squeeze my eyes shut, rejecting the possibility of this being anything but my period.
What the hell is happening to me?
Another cramp hits, and I gasp, legs trembling as the nausea starts to roll through me.
I need a shower.
It’s the only thing that feels like it might give me some relief. I wipe quickly as my hands start to tremble, wadding up toilet paper as a makeshift pad temporarily. When I go to stand, I realize how pointless that was because the blood soaks right through and starts to drip down my legs.
Scared that I’ll get blood all over the community bathroom floor, I quickly run over to the showers, pushing through the pain.
Okay.
Okay.
It’s just your period.
It’s just really bad.
Because it was late.
That happens.
That’s normal.
Fuck…this doesn’t feel normal.
I slip into a shower stall and try to turn on the water, but my hands are shaking so badly that I can barely grip the faucet.
I eventually get it on and wait for it to heat up, hunched over.
For a moment, the heat finally makes me feel like I can breathe, like maybe I was just overreacting, that was the worst of it.
But the heat only helps for about thirty seconds, then the pain spikes again.
This time feels like an intense ripping sensation.
It makes me want to scream out crying, but I hold it in and bite my tongue until it passes.
This is a literal scene from a horror movie right now.
Especially with the amount of blood still coming out of me.
I brace my hands against the tile wall to steady myself and to give me something to press against, something to push into, like it’ll transfer the pain. Every wave that comes is worse than the last, and I don’t know what else to do. I just want it to stop.
I stare down, watching the blood continue to run down my legs, never stopping.
I can’t even stand anymore. I just drop down to the floor of the shower, not even caring that I’m in a public shower right now.
That thought would normally make me nauseous, but the pain in my lower stomach is already doing that.
When the next wave hits, I genuinely think for a second that I might pass out, that this is not my period at all, and I’m going to die right here, alone on a shower floor.
I need help.
I reach right outside the shower stall to where my bag is and wipe my hand enough so I can grab my phone. I open the lock screen and hit Lani’s name, knowing she’s right down the hall and will probably be the calmest in this situation to help. It only rings twice before she thankfully answers.
“Hey? Where are you?” she asks, yawning.
“Lani,” I pant out, barely getting her name out.
“What’s wrong?”
I hear her tone instantly go into an alert, worried mode.
“I—” My voice cracks a little, still pushing through the pain. “I’m in the showers, in a lot of pain…I’m bleeding.”
“Are you hurt?” she asks.
“No—no. It’s just my period, a really bad one. Hurts like hell, but I just…I just need some help getting back to the dorm.”
“Okay,” she rushes out. “Stay right there, I’m coming.”
“Don’t freak out,” I tell her, knowing that’s exactly what she’ll do once she sees me.
“Simone,” she says in a serious tone. “Stop. I’m coming to help.”
When the call ends, I grab my towel, wrapping it around me and clenching it, trying not to look at the mess around me that I can do nothing about. It just keeps pooling around me. And I feel dizzier by the second.
I hear the door creak open, and then Lani’s voice fills the room. “Simone?”
“I’m over here,” I grit out.
She’s by my side instantly, crouching down beside me.
“Oh my gosh,” she gasps.
“It’s okay,” I rush out, not wanting her to make me freak out more by her freaking out.
Her eyes flick down to the blood and then back to me. “Sim—”
I try to wave her off, but another cramp hits, making me jerk my arm down and curl into myself.
“This isn’t normal,” she says quietly.
“It’s just a period, Lani. I’m fine.”
“You can’t even stand,” she points out.
“I just need to get back to the room,” I tell her, because being stuck here feels humiliating and too exposed. I just want to lie down in my bed.
Lani reaches out and touches my shoulder lightly. “Simone, look at me.”
I force myself to look up at her.
“Are you dizzy?” she asks.
I nod.
“Are you in pain?”
My mouth opens, and I almost cry instead of answering because there’s so much pain.
“It hurts,” I whisper.
Lani’s face gets so serious that it scares me. “We need to take you to the hospital.”
“No,” I say immediately. “No. I’m not—I’m not going to the hospital for a period, Lani.”
“This isn’t a period,” she says, looking at me with pleading eyes, needing me to listen to her.
“It is,” I insist. “It’s just—it’s just bad because it’s late.”
Lani doesn’t argue. She just stands and starts gathering my things.
“Can you stand up?” she asks.
“Yeah, I think so,” I lie.
“Okay,” she says, and then she puts an arm around me and helps me up, and the second my weight shifts, my knees almost give out.
A fresh wave of pain hits, and I gasp, doubling over.
Lani catches me. “Yeah,” she says softly. “You definitely can’t.”
She walks me over to one of the stalls and helps change my clothes, pad, and then helps me slide into my sweats with such gentleness that makes me feel emotional because this is a very exposed and vulnerable moment for me.