Despite knowing what's good for me, I couldn't stop myself. I know I should be working on To Kill a Mockingbird and studying for my uni exams next week... but this idea has been bugging me for months, and truth be told, I've been expanding this story in my brain. I wanted to try my hands at writing a multi chaptered fic with an end, and my brain gorged up this idea. So, this should be around 3 chapters long.
Yes, I'm aware it's another 'what might have happened before AC when Cloud left and Tifa's angsting', and finally the aftermath of AC. "You think you got it so damn hard."-that's what inspired me, I thought that she must've spoken from experience.
I just really want to try my hand at writing this, and to satisfy the bunny hopping around in my brain. By the way, I will be updating slowly despite the next chapter being almost complete, since I have exams :(
Anyway, read and review, please. Any critics and suggestion is mighty welcomed! (But no senseless flaming, please)
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII, its characters, and settings are not mine, they belong to SquareEnix.
Bereft: Prologue
She was hunched on the floor above the toilet. Her hair was matted to her forehead and neck, throat dry and a bitter taste in her mouth. She tried to breathe slowly to lessen the nausea that threatened to overwhelm her, but instead bile rose and she was forced to swallow. Her stomach rolled and heaved, as it had done every time she thought of it.
It was supposed to be only stress, or even depression, but…
She knew what it meant, and felt a tinge of guilt for dreading it. She certainly didn't want this—at least not like this, but she was sure that she didn't need this. Especially now.
The silent mantra kept ringing through her mind, Please no… No, no, no—
This couldn't be happening, how was she supposed to do this alone? She already has a bar and two children, not to mention Denzel was sick with geostigma.
A long repressed fear, consuming and derogatory, finally slipped free from its tight confines within the recesses of her mind. Its cold, spiny fingers gripped her and scorched her—permanently adding to the multitude of brands and scars that her heart carried. She knew once it was loose it could break her by whispering disparaging thoughts. The fear, newly freed crept with fervor. She would've fought it as she had done, but she was too weak—too lonely to fight it, because what the fear was saying was true.
In the midst of her confusion and fear, she felt like screaming outloud at him and demanded where he was, why he left. He once gave her hope light to grow. He had said that he would be there with her from then onward. With his abandon, he had also unknowingly wrenched what her hoping heart so craved away.
She didn't want to give voice to the fear, but it was there at the back of her mind, whispering soundlessly yet she understood: was this where hope had left her? Then maybe she would've been better without.
The clock was ticking on the wall, but her deafened ears heard nothing but the lament of her inner grief. Her claret eyes moved from the white, sterile wall to the equally sterile sheets. Even through the sheets she could see the red staining her abdomen. She needed to call the nurse and have it changed again; even though it had just been changed ten minutes ago. Her lethargic mind struggled against the anesthesia induced haze to string the words needed.
The same nurse came at her call and changed her sheets. She didn't understand the look the nurse gave her—pity and compassion? Why?
It's just your imagination, miss, the nurse had said.
But she stayed adamant that the sheet was stained again.
Why can't she see it? she thought in confusion.
The nurse had smiled with pity shining in her eyes and told her to call if there was anything else she needed. The nurse left, and her world was once again engulfed in silence with parting words of, I'm sorry for your loss.
It tore through her fatigued psyche, and made her numb in response. Her gaze moved toward her fingers, blood stained and worn. Absently she thought that the stain would never go away; she had killed an innocent life, after all.
The white walls bled into different scenery of white and light. From somewhere far away she thought she could hear the sound of water dripping and soft, gentle whispers billowing in the nonexistent wind.
When she awoke hours later, her mind was clear. The sight of the white furniture and color theme that greeted her immediately jogged her memories. Trembling hands tentatively touched her abdomen. Minutes passed as she tried to look for that telltale bump, prolonging the sinking feeling that settled at the bottom of her stomach. Where there had been the slightest bump before, now there was none. Tifa knew then that it had truly happened—she had lost the baby.
Bitterly she reminded herself that she had lost the baby earlier, and the fact that her body was voided had only finalized it. Stillbirth, they called it. A choked sob tore through her mouth and wracked her body. A stinging pain greeted her lower parts, the only remainder of her pregnancy. Tifa could not stop the faint whimpers from following the sobs as she cried bitterly yet silently.
A thought ironically crossed her mind; the last time she had come close to crying was that time in the wine cellar, wallowing in self-pity and fear. But two things were different this time; she was crying due to loss instead of denial, and the main emotions running within her were anger and guilt. Tifa was neither the saint many had painted her as, nor were she as self-sacrificing as Cloud was. If she were, shouldn't she feel more guilt than anger? But her guilt was relatively small compared to the burgeoning anger within.
To think that no one had known of her pregnancy, and none had shared in the novelty and joy of a new life when she had the chance to do it… and to think that it had to happen to her all at the same time. She wanted to blame Cloud, but she came to the same conclusion as before: it wasn't entirely his fault either. Thus, ultimately her anger was directed at the world and Shinra for unleashing that abomination—Jenova.
There were various 'what if's that could have happened, had Jenova not been unleashed. Perhaps Aerith wouldn't have lost her parents, perhaps Sephiroth wouldn't have gone crazy, perhaps Cloud and Zack wouldn't have suffered under Hojo's experimentations, perhaps Zack wouldn't have died and Cloud wouldn't have lost his mind, perhaps Aerith wouldn't have died, perhaps Cloud wouldn't blame himself, perhaps there would be no geostigma… then other people, Denzel and even herself… she wouldn't have lost the baby.
tbc.
And no, she didn't abort the baby.
Stillbirth is the term for miscarriages that happen after 20 weeks of gestation. Just to clarify one more thing, not all people start showing as early as four or five months along. My mother only started showing in her sixth/seventh month. It all depends on the person and also the attachment of the fetus, apparently (based on my research on the internet).