The bedsheet. The sofa. The tray. The television. The trees. The walls.
Everything seemed so dull at that moment. It was as if colour ceased existing altogether.
I rested my hands on my stomach. Felt the flatness of it under my palms. As if it had always stayed that way.
As if it hadn’t once ballooned into a humongous thing, protruding out of my body, an obstacle which latched itself to me everywhere I went.
As if there had never been life in it before. A tiny human being kicking and squirming when I least expected it.
What’s left of it is a layer of over-stretched skin and…
Wrenched away from me faster than I could blink. Leaving me dumbstruck, lost, speechless. Empty.
A careless trip on the stairs. That was all that I could remember. The rest was a blur.
I stared blankly into the distance. Thinking that nothing could compare to the guilt I was feeling.
For being so careless. For losing him.
I might as well have murdered him with my very own hands.
I glanced forlornly towards my stomach, where he should have been kicking, squirming, doing anything to show that he’s alive.
Slowly, tears trickled down my face. I made no move to wipe them away, allowing them to flow towards my mouth until I could taste the saltiness on my tongue.
“Sorry,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
And broke down sobbing.