Two days before the full moon, we had our first doctor's appointment with
the baby. I, unfortunately, could not be in attendance because I was sick
with the moon. She, however, informed me that the baby was healthy and that
everything was all right. I savoured those words: the baby is healthy and
everything is all right. We were a family.
The day before the full moon, I slept while she prepared herself. She woke me just before dinnertime, and I noticed that she had brought me soup and crackers on a tray. I smiled and pulled her close to me, snuggling her and eating my soup. "It's good... Did you eat?" I whispered into the crook of her neck. She smiled and sighed against the sensation, and whispered into my chest. "Of course. I love you." "I love you too." "You sleepy?" "A little." She stood up. "I'm going for a walk." "Okay." I watched her rise to leave. "I love you, be safe." "Of course." She turned to walk away. What I didn't realise was that it was the last time I would see her for a very long time.
In truth, it wasn't that long of a period, 9 hours, but it seemed like an eternity to me. It also meant that I would be on my own in the dredges of the full moon, the whole time obsessing about her safety. She was safe, in the end, of course, but she and I spent a precarious 9 hours worrying about each other.
I finally slept, fitfully, at around two-thirty in the morning. I woke every ten minutes, sick with worry, from horrible dreams. Dreams where I saw her body, the contents of her womb spread across the ground beneath her, her eyes half-closed—no don't think like that.
I must have fallen asleep again, because at 7:30 in the morning, I found myself with a pounding headache and her side of the bed messed up. "Nymphadora?" I called, weakly, shocked at how old my voice sounded. "Are you here, love? Where were you?" When there was no answer, I tottered weakly downstairs. She was curled on the couch, with long dark hair all over her shoulders. She was sound asleep, and probably wouldn't have heard me anyway. I shook her lightly and she didn't stir, and for a moment I feared she was dead. When she moved slightly, I realised that it must have been a curse-induced sleep, and so I sat with her while she slept it off, dozing peacefully myself.
She woke up screaming half an hour later, and it startled me. "What's wrong?!" I sprang to my feet, gasping. She stopped screaming, but her eyes were still wild. "Where am I?" "You're with me now, love. It's okay." I reached over to stroke her hair and back, and she relaxed a little. "What happened?" "I was hoping you could tell me." "I went for a walk. Then I woke up..." she tried to remember. "Something else happened but I can't remember. I remember being taken away in silence and locked in a dark room... it was my aunt... why isn't she still in jail? She's evil, she's worse than anything, ever."
I laid down with her then, rubbed her back, and soothed her. "It's okay, we'll figure this all out." And even though I was exhausted, I somehow understood that her pain came before mine.
A/N: hah!
The day before the full moon, I slept while she prepared herself. She woke me just before dinnertime, and I noticed that she had brought me soup and crackers on a tray. I smiled and pulled her close to me, snuggling her and eating my soup. "It's good... Did you eat?" I whispered into the crook of her neck. She smiled and sighed against the sensation, and whispered into my chest. "Of course. I love you." "I love you too." "You sleepy?" "A little." She stood up. "I'm going for a walk." "Okay." I watched her rise to leave. "I love you, be safe." "Of course." She turned to walk away. What I didn't realise was that it was the last time I would see her for a very long time.
In truth, it wasn't that long of a period, 9 hours, but it seemed like an eternity to me. It also meant that I would be on my own in the dredges of the full moon, the whole time obsessing about her safety. She was safe, in the end, of course, but she and I spent a precarious 9 hours worrying about each other.
I finally slept, fitfully, at around two-thirty in the morning. I woke every ten minutes, sick with worry, from horrible dreams. Dreams where I saw her body, the contents of her womb spread across the ground beneath her, her eyes half-closed—no don't think like that.
I must have fallen asleep again, because at 7:30 in the morning, I found myself with a pounding headache and her side of the bed messed up. "Nymphadora?" I called, weakly, shocked at how old my voice sounded. "Are you here, love? Where were you?" When there was no answer, I tottered weakly downstairs. She was curled on the couch, with long dark hair all over her shoulders. She was sound asleep, and probably wouldn't have heard me anyway. I shook her lightly and she didn't stir, and for a moment I feared she was dead. When she moved slightly, I realised that it must have been a curse-induced sleep, and so I sat with her while she slept it off, dozing peacefully myself.
She woke up screaming half an hour later, and it startled me. "What's wrong?!" I sprang to my feet, gasping. She stopped screaming, but her eyes were still wild. "Where am I?" "You're with me now, love. It's okay." I reached over to stroke her hair and back, and she relaxed a little. "What happened?" "I was hoping you could tell me." "I went for a walk. Then I woke up..." she tried to remember. "Something else happened but I can't remember. I remember being taken away in silence and locked in a dark room... it was my aunt... why isn't she still in jail? She's evil, she's worse than anything, ever."
I laid down with her then, rubbed her back, and soothed her. "It's okay, we'll figure this all out." And even though I was exhausted, I somehow understood that her pain came before mine.
A/N: hah!