Chapter 12: Waking Up In Blood

CONTENT WARNING: be careful.

Something was wrong.

She hadn't been fully conscious and yet she managed to pinpoint a peculiar sting growing in her belly. Elphaba had thought she was dreaming, but the pain had persisted after she'd opened her eyes.

She turned on her side and dismissed it immediately. It was most likely her stomach yet again, working hard to digest food she was not used to. She may be uncomfortable for a few minutes, but it would dwindle down and eventually disappear.

The pain stayed. Not only that, it seemed to worsen by the minute.

Elphaba closed her eyes and grunted. A boiling sensation spread through her lower abdomen. She buried her head deeper into the pillow, clutching the bed sheets tightly in her fists. She pulled her legs as close as she could to her body, effectively curling herself into a ball as she rested her forehead on her knees. She carefully maneuvered a shaky hand in between her limbs, searching for her stomach. She rubbed it in an attempt to soothe the pain. It seemed to do the trick, but it did little to actually lessen it. She breathed in and out as steadily as she could. In…and out. In…and out.

This too would pass, just as it had many times before, but Elphaba's belief in that sentiment seemed to wane with each passing moment.

Had it been something she'd eaten? They had been on the road for two days as they made their way to Altar. The only food they'd eaten on the journey had been what could be purchased along the path. She had eaten meat, perhaps she'd eaten cross-contaminated meat? It is relatively common, and without the professional, meticulous chefs from Kiamo Ko, a very likely possibility when purchasing street food. Elphaba had had food poisoning before, the unfortunate result of having consumed an undercooked fish when she'd been a teenager.

Must she make herself regurgitate her food then? Elphaba knew she shouldn't. She sincerely doubted this was food poisoning and she couldn't force herself to vomit what she'd eaten every time it caused her pain. She didn't want to do that anymore, and yet it was extremely tempting. She'd been in immense physical pain before, but this - this was beginning to be more than she could handle.

A whimper escaped her and no amount of rubbing would soothe the tearing she felt at her abdomen from the inside. Something told her this wasn't food poisoning. That gave her an upset stomach, that she could tolerate, and has tolerated it for months now. This was unbearable pain.

The other possibility was that she was due to bleed. Elphaba couldn't recall it hurting this much, but then again, they were incredibly sporadic due to her horrible nutrition. She did always underestimate the intensity of the expected cramps. The last time she'd bled had been months, perhaps closer to one year ago. That had to be it - then it may be mere minutes before she stained the bed sheets. She refused to impose such a burden on the hotel staff.

Slowly, Elphaba removed the covers and forced herself to sit up. She'd never thought sitting up would be this excruciating. It was as if her body was fighting against her with all its might. Unwittingly, she whimpered before trying to stand, but her legs refused to support her and she never left the bed.

She breathed heavily; she needed to get off the bed. Gripping on to the sides of the desk beside the bed, Elphaba mustered up any strength in her to get herself standing Her nails clawed at the wood as she held on for what seemed like dear life. She trembled violently as her weight shifted onto her feet. Her hips bumped the sharp edge of the desk and Elphaba pressed her cheek to its cold surface. Her elbows ceased to support her on their own accord and she found herself lying down on the desk, her legs hanging limply over the edge.

After allowing herself a moment to attempt to regain some energy, Elphaba inched her way off the edge of the desk until she made contact with the floor. With her feet once again firmly on the ground, she positioned her arms on either side of her and, with great effort, lifted her upper body from the desk, but she couldn't go past this angle. Tears involuntarily left her eyes. She couldn't move. She couldn't.

Her arms collapsed beneath her a second time, but this time, Elphaba fell onto the floor.

The green girl immediately cradled her stomach and locked her ankles together. More hot tears spilled from her eyes, a pain in her back now challenged the one in her abdomen. What was happening? Dear Oz, please stop.

A cry unwittingly left her; for a fleeting moment, Elphaba almost called out to her mother.

Angrily drying her tears, Elphaba resorted herself to make it to the washroom, even if she had to crawl or drag herself to it. Her father's worst beatings had never left her feeling like this, but Elphaba had known pain, and by Lurline she refused to let this pain get the better of her.

She tightly shut her eyes and nearly mutilated her thighs with her nails hoping the second source of pain would somehow distract her mind from the torture at her belly. It was fruitless. Still determined, Elphaba placed her weight on her elbow and with the slightest assistance from her legs began to push herself in the direction of the washroom.

Every movement was a hot, iron nail piercing her skin. Elphaba gasped and sunk her teeth into her bottom lip. Finally the washroom door appeared in her line of sight. By now she was sweating profusely and she could no longer contain the whimpers she'd been holding. She cried as loudly as quietly as she could.

By the grace of Lurline, the door was cracked open, sparing Elphaba further agony in trying to reach the doorknob. Lights be damned, she would feel her way around the room. She would haul herself onto the latrine, she would sit until she bled, the pain would vanish, she would clean herself, and -

Dear Oz, she was going to vomit.

The few objects she could make out in the dark quickly faded and, even with her eyes open, all she could see was black. She began to cough, shivering in disgust at the feeling of a horrible phlegm traveling up her throat. A shock spread from her belly all over her body; once it enveloped her neck, Elphaba closed her eyes and promptly lost consciousness.

Her mouth was dry.

Elphaba turned her head, her nose touched the tiles of the floor and her memory slowly returned. Her shoulders were taut and the excruciating pain that had tormented her minutes - or hours? - before was still present. She shut her eyes, swallowing a whine as a single tear escaped her eye before disappearing into her hair.

The pulse of her heart pounded in her ears as she obliged herself to check her undergarments. She'd just woken up in a pool of her own blood; not only was her crotch drenched in it, her thighs peeled off one another, but the tiles around her were viscous and warm. How revolting. Was this how monthlies were supposed to be? The stories of young, terrified women thinking they were dying made sense; Elphaba certainly felt as if that was happening now.

Nearly heaving. Elphaba pushed herself off the ground and somehow managed to get herself into a seated position. She hadn't made it far into the washroom, there was an incredibly welcoming wall behind her. Incredibly, she could feel more blood flowing from her body and onto the floor, further staining her clothes, the tiles, and now the wall. Would this torture never end?

She must be close to the light source. Thanks to her height, Elphaba reached the string of the lamp on the wall with only the outstretch of her arm. The bright light blinded her instantly and she groaned. She dreaded to see the mess she'd made.

After more or less regulating her breathing, Elphaba peeled her eyes open, allowing herself to slowly adjust to the brightness of the room. She looked down at her hand and frowned at her blood-stained skin. Her nightgown was a disaster, no amount of washing would save it. The puddle of blood contained smears from when her legs disturbed it so she could right herself up with a couple bloody handprints painted perfectly a few inches away. It reminded Elphaba of a murder scene described in a book she'd read long ago. She couldn't recall the title.

What was that?

Her gaze lingered on the pool of blood; the more she stared at it, the more she could make out the shape of something on it, something that looked solid and yet mushy and it had a light gloss. It was a darker, gray color than the strong red it found itself in.

Groggily, Elphaba lifted her chin in an attempt to discern exactly what in Oz that lump was. Was it something she'd eaten? She made a mental note to herself to cut back on the amount of food she was consuming. Lately her appetite had reached new levels and she found herself not only clearing her plate, but, at times, also asking for a second serving as well. She hated the shame that succeeded the ginormous meals.

Now that she could see the thing better, its shape was reminiscent of that of a bean. Only…not quite? There was a form within the form. A large black dot near the top, a short noodle at its center, and a string at the -

Elphaba couldn't feel anything, nothing except the cold, sharp shockwaves that detonated inside her. Her stomach dropped, nausea bombarded her, and she purged water. Elphaba soiled herself in her own bile frantically kicking herself away from the cursed blood.

She choked on her horrified screams, rendering them silent except for her gasps.

It was a fetus.

Lyric Inspo:

Down bad, wakin' up in blood

Starin' at the sky, come back and pick me up

Fuck it if I can't have us

I might just not get up, I might stay

Down bad

- 'Down Bad', TTPD, Taylor Swift.

Note: miscarriages are traumatic and difficult no matter the circumstance and my heart goes out to anyone who's ever experienced one. Please take care of your mental health if this at all affected you personally *sending a virtual hug*