:Disclaimer: I don't own POTO.
:Beta-reader: Lady-Miranda-Van-Tassel
:Thanks to: all my reviewers and readers!
The Empty Cage
Chapter 5 - The Glory of the Desert
I coughed, wiping the tears from my eyes. The hot sun burned on my skin and my dress stuck to my sweating skin. It was so hot I barely felt my tongue. Sand rushed by in a wave of wind. From far away, I heard people call my name.
"Antoinette!"
Hot... so hot... Slowly, with all the effort I could bring up, I stepped forward. Failing to balance, I fell to the ground and rolled down the sand hill. I was breathing harshly, facing the deeply blue heaven and the sun. It burned... burned... burned my skin, burned everything.
"Antoinette!"
I felt weak and gave up on it. I would never leave the desert. Never.
"Antoinette!"
I opened my eyes. Above my head there was the worried face of my husband. Somebody grabbed my hand and took my pulse. I twinked. "Monsieur?"
"Oh Antoinette! We were so worried about you! My darling, you have been sleeping for the past two weeks."
I stared at him. Two weeks? "I -"
"Do not try to speak, Madame," a low voice on my left said. I turned my head. It was the man who must have taken my pulse. "My name is Monsieur Jobarderie."
"Did he -?"
Monsieur stared at me, his eyes wide open, "Who did what?"
"...come?"
"Who?"
"He."
"But there was nobody here, Antoinette. Try to sleep now." He cast another worried look at Monsieur Jobarderie, and both of them left. I was too weak to pay much more attention to them. He hadn't been there. Satisfied, I closed my eyes again to fall asleep for another day.
After another two weeks, I was able to walk again and slowly my mind came back to me. Monsieur Jobarderie came to see me twice a day. "You've had an infection from the cut on your neck," he had said, "and I feared it would crawl up to your head. You had to rest." He had grinned. "But there is no need for you to worry. I was there all the time."
A pain shot through my chest. A doctor who had nothing better to do than stay with his patients for the whole day was no good sign. "What about...?"
"Your baby?"
"Yes."
He fell silent. At my further urging, he finally explained, "there is a high risk for complications. The very first weeks are highly important. You haven't eaten enough," he pointed at my fingers. "I could see all your bones when I helped washing you." He grinned again.
Disgust struck me. Had he seen - but there was not enough time to be more disgusted about this man who claimed to be a professional doctor.
Well, Monsieur Jobarderie was probably not one of the most honorable men, for he felt sexually attracted to me which was overly obvious. But he was right about my baby.
The next months passed by fast. Everybody was very concerned I might not be fine. At night, another servant girl would sit next to me to take care that I would not be able to cut myself again. At least he left me alone for a couple of months during my pregnancy. But today, years later, I know why he did not come. He had better things to do - some preparing to come later.
The pregnancy did not cause me too many problems. Monsieur loved me even more, he was grateful that I survived and kept the baby. A lot of people came to talk to me and keep me company, and so I developed to have 'friends'. Those friends, though, might as well not have been there at all. It was not entertaining at all, perhaps because I hated other people. I was good at keeping myself some company and did not care about others. Other people would cause me pain.
The birth of my baby was barbarous. I lay there in pain for days and days, wishing again death would relieve me. Monsieur Jobarderie did not seem to care much about me - the baby was highly important. "The boy," of course. Nobody cared about how loud I screamed and cried.
Finally, I heard it scream. Breathing fast, I sank back into the pillows. Monsieur turned from me to walk to the window, followed by the other servants. Silence sounded through the room. I was so weakened that I could only frown and ask, "What is it?"
But nobody replied.
They left. They left me alone in the hot room between all the blankets that were full of my blood. There it was again, the desert - hot... the sun... burned...
"They left me alone, Monsieur!", I cried at him, falling into his arms. "They were all gone!"
"Shhhh..." Monsieur hissed into my ear. "You're fine, Antoinette, aren't you?"
"Where is my baby?"
He looked at me and shook his head. "We gave it away."
My heart was torn apart. "What -?"
"It was ... my dear. We knew something likely would happen. Back at the beginning of your pregnancy, you have been in a coma for two weeks."
"Where is my baby?" I stared at him, clenching my fingers into his arms. Where did they bring it? What was he talking about?
"You were too ill... the baby was deformed."