Drabble 13: Denial..
"Nat… please." His voice breaks. He didn't want it to come to this, god, he hoped it wouldn't. But it's happening too often.
"F-fuck off!" She screams, probably waking half the apartment complex, but she doesn't give a damn, "Just fuck off! I'm n-not… not crazy!"
"Natalie, I didn't say you were," He takes a few slow steps toward her, "But… it's been happening a lot. You know it has. We'll just… we'll see someone and maybe try to understand why."
"You don't k-know anything, okay? I'm fine!" She stutters, tears burning in her eyes. She's scared, though, and he knows it.
"Just listen, okay? Whatever they say, I'll stay with you. Who cares what a guy in a white coat has to say about you? We just… if they have a way to help… don't you want that?" He chooses words carefully, trying to calm her down. He knows she knows. He catches her staring at the walls for minutes, sometimes hours at a time. Talking and crying and screaming in her sleep; she's twenty five years old. She's so… bleak, lately. At first, he thought it was just hormones from the bump forming between her hips. He tried to pretend it hadn't gone on for months before she'd even conceived.
"I'm… I'm just like her, aren't I?" Her voice is soft, thick. He takes the moment to hug her to his chest, threading his fingers in her hair and kissing her forehead.
"You're not, babe. I swear to you, you're going to be a wonderful mother. Please, just do this for me. For us. All of us." His hand trails down to her stomach, unable to stop beaming at their little bump. She sniffles and nods, wrapping her arms around him. Maybe there's nothing wrong with her, she tries to hope. Maybe it's just the baby.
She's well aware it's not.