The Promise

No passion so effectually robs the mind of all its powers of acting and reasoning as fear. ~ EDMUND BURKE, On the Sublime and Beautiful

"No no no no no no NO!" Her voice screamed, breaking the calm night with her screech. Violently, she cast the papers to the ground to join the rest of the useless rabble there. She stood, hovering over the huge pile of scattered papers, boxes and other random articles strewn across the floor, glaring at them as if it insulted her. It did. Everything was junk. Everything that she wrote: nothing but trash. It should be taken and burned. In a mad panic, she began to gather the papers into her arms.Yes, that's what she would do. Burn it. Set it a flame. The once clean white sheets that were covered in scrawling handwriting were shoved haphazardly into her arms, drops of salty tears falling onto the words, smearing the graphite. Maybe after she burned the paper, from the ashes of the useless words, something would arise. Something that could allow her to live with herself. Suddenly, she screamed and fell to the floor, the papers one again falling out of her arms as she clutched her abdomen in agony. She clenched her tear-filled eyes as the pain shot though her; rivers of needles running through her blood. It all started just below her bellybutton, deep inside her whimpering, crying form, where it felt as if something else was writhing, trying to claw it's way out. The pain was unbelievable, unbearable, and it felt like she would lay there forever, writhing in agony. However, as it always did, the pain passed, receding slowly and leaving her feeling strangely empty. She laid there on her side in the comforting fetal position that had failed to provide any form of protection from the pain. The papers beneath her head crackled as she relaxed slightly, their voices like laughter. Mocking her pain and failed attempt at reducing their words to ash. However, instead of scolding the paper, as she would normally do, she laid still, terrified any movement would trigger another wave. A cool breeze drifted though the open window and brushed across her, raising bumps on her sweaty skin. Shivering in her thin tank-top, she curled up in herself tighter until the wind faded, the ripped curtain coving the window once again laying still. Her hazel eyes fluttered open, peering though her crazed dirty-blond hair. Extremely carefully, she uncurled her stiff limbs and slowly, ever so slowly, sat up. The lower half of her body still felt sore, but the sharp, stabbing pain showed no signs of returning. Breathing a sigh of relief, she raised a hand and scrubbed away the few lingering tears in her reddened eyes.  She never was one to believe in heaven or hell, but it felt like hell then, when that pain came. Not just the pain itself, although that agony was most certainly Inferno worthy, it was more the idea behind it. Hell has always been, at least in the Christian belief, a place of punishment. That pain felt like punishment. For some reason, although she had no idea why, she felt as though she deserved it. She had somehow brought the fits of pain and agony she felt all too often upon herself. Something she had done. She banished the thoughts with a twitch of her head. None of that really mattered. With a sigh she scanned the mess all around her and a small smile crossed her lips. One thing that could be said about her pain was that it always sobered her up. She had no desire to burn her things anymore, even if it was all junk. Carefully, she began shifting though the layers of tossed writing material. She occasionally stopped to read a line or two of dialogue, smiling lightly at the witty remarks her characters made before moving on to the next page. This work really wasn't so bad, just needed a bit of tweaking here and there. Feeling renewed, she began gathering the pages again, but more gently and selectively. This time she would finally put something together and actually finish it. As she dug through the papers, her finger brushed something glossy and smooth, completely different from course paper. Curious, she closed her fingers on it and pulled it out. It was a photograph. A couple stood next to each other, their beams immortalized in ink. The main stood tall, dark-haired, and had kind eyes while the woman stood behind, her chin resting on his shoulder and arms wrapped around him. The woman was her, there was no doubt in her mind, but the man... something stirred inside her. Mixed feelings of love and contempt. That was her husband. Had been, at one point. But something told her he wasn't anymore. What had happened? "He broke a promise." She whispered, startling herself. Where had that come from? She looked back at the picture and felt it was true. He had broken a promise, but she couldn't name what it was. It was important, she knew it was and it had cost so dearly. What was it? What was that promise? She shook her head and set the picture aside. She shouldn't linger on the past like that. Wasn't healthy. She began picking up the papers again, trying to immerse herself in the story she was going to write again. It was going to be about a boy who's father was a convicted serial killer... and it was about him trying to live with that legacy hanging over him. There was more, naturally, but there was not need to spoil the ending. She reached down and picked up another paper, uncovering something hiding innocently underneath. Slightly fearful, she reached down and grasped the scissors by their steel blue handle, bringing them closer to her eyes. They looked like perfectly ordinary craft scissors, about as long as her hand long and sharp, but the steel was not as it should have been. It looked dark in the dim light, rusted. "Or stained..." She whispered, tracing the blade with her finger. With what though? Could it be...? Suddenly, something else caught her eye. A long, somewhat oddly shaped thing. There really wasn't any other way to explain it. It had a little flat end and what almost looked like a little round screen embedded in the middle. It was covered in the same dark stains that coated the scissors. Without any reason, she suddenly felt horribly afraid as she reached out to pick up the stick. Looking closely, she saw it had two little labeled pictures beside the screen. One said negative and had one line. The other said positive and had two lines. She looked over at the screen. It had two lines. Letting out a shriek, she threw the pregnancy test away from her, watching it hit the back of the wall and fall into the mess. Breathing heavily, the stared at the place it had landed, afraid that it might rise up again to haunt her. Then, something in the pile caught her eye again. It was another one. Dropping the scissors, she crawled desperately over the scraps of paper to reach the test. That last one was wrong. It had to be. This one was the right one. It... positive. Another screech as she threw it against the wall with a clatter. She looked down to see another by her hand. Quickly, she grabbed it. Positive. It joined the others by the wall. Another! Positive. She snatched another. Positive. All of them. Positive. Digging madly through the boxes and Christmas ornaments, finding test after test. Positive, positive, positive. Shaking, she buried her face in her hands. She couldn't breath, her heart was beating so fast. All of them, positive, revealing the presence that grew inside her. Right below her bellybutton. Inside her body. Suddenly, she felt a wave a nausea grip her and she gagged, what little there was in her stomach spilling over the papers as she convulsed on her ands and knees. How... how could this happen? As she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, she whispered, "The promise..." BANGBANGBANGBANG! She jumped violently at the sound and spun her head around to stare at the door, her neck craned to stare at it with fearful eyes. The simple dark wood was illuminated in the bring afternoon sunlight and she could see a pair of feet on the other side. Wait. That wasn't right. It wasn't day... it was the middle- "LORA!" A voice suddenly boomed. "LORA! OPEN UP! PLEASE! PLEASE LET ME IN!" She stared at the door, still on her hands and knees, suddenly feeling a touch of anger drift though the ocean of anxiety that flooded her, freezing her in place. "The promise!" She croaked at the door as loudly as she could though her trembling. There was silence on the other side. "What?" She head him ask. "I don't know-" He was suddenly cut off by her ear-spitting screech. "THE PROMISE! YOU PROMISED!" She screamed, finally finding the feeling in her limbs to move away from her vomit and onto a less cluttered part of the carpeted floor, sitting on her knees and staring at the shadows of the feet under the door, occasionally shifting as the man behind pressed himself against the door. "You made me a promise! You broke it! YOU BROKE THE PROMISE!" "Lora! Lora! Calm down! It will be alright! There is no need for this. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done it, but it will be okay!" He said again, as he had said before, his voice sounding so happy. After all these years, he got what he wanted. "You love children and ours will be beautiful! Why can't you see th-" He was interrupted by her shriek again. "NO! NO! NO! NO! NO...!" She continued on, covering her ears. He was right, there wasn't any reason to be afraid, but she was. So afraid that her heart felt like it was going to burst as it pounded behind her ribs. She covered her ears tighter as she heard him banging on the door again, demanding she come out and stop acting like a child. It wasn't real. It wasn't there. There was nothing inside her, moving... growing... sucking her very blood and life away. She screamed. She couldn't do this. It had to come out... it had to stop now. Felling detached, like she was simply watching from a safe distance, she felt herself grab a pair of scissors and scramble to her feet, moving ungracefully across the floor, tripping on the dozens of positive pregnancy tests. She landed on the bed, the soft, beautiful white sheets welcoming her. The felt nice... and smelled so clean. Slowly, as if underwater, she sat up and stared down at her abdomen where she knew it was... hiding there. Just waiting. The freakish... alien-like thing, waiting for it's time when it would come out. No! It would wait. It wouldn't have to. In a blind panic, she raised the scissors and brought them down on herself, penetrating as deep as they could. The pain shot though her as blood poured from the wound, spilling out onto her leg and flowing down to soak the sheets. Another scream escaped her, but she didn't stop. Pulling out one of the blades of the scissors and began to cut the wound wider, slicing though the fat, flesh, and muscle. The pain screamed at her to stop, but the fear drove her on. She wasn't in control anymore. She couldn't stop herself even if she wanted to. Gasping with pain, she pulled the scissors out and let them go, sending them clattering to the floor, clogged with blood and gore. Shaking, she flexed her fingers, eyes locked on the bloody mess that was her stomach. Then, without pausing, she plunged her hand inside, searching in the mess for the thing. Her hand closed around something and with a yank, it came out. After a quick inspection, she saw it wasn't what she was looking for it and it feel to the floor with the scissors. She was only dimly aware of the door bursting open and the scream of the dark-haired man as he saw her seated on the bed, hand deep inside her own wound. She didn't even register him as he grabbed her and shook her shoulders. Glancing at him briefly, she noticed his lips were moving but no sound was coming out. How odd. Despite his efforts, she kept searching desperately, both hands now digging though herself. It had to come out... it had to come out... it had to. She felt the presence of the man leave, running across the floor. Then the dim sound of the phone dialing... his panicked voice. Suddenly, her hand closed around something. It took some effort, but it came out in her clenched fist. Slowly, she unclenched her bloody fist to reveal a broken, gory fetus. She pushed at it with her finger, touching what she was sure was an eye. A profound calm suddenly washed over her. It was out, now. The thing wasn't so scary when it wasn't inside her. Kind of… cool, actually. She stated at it, watching it twitch slightly in her hand. A smile crossed her lips and she looked up at the man standing over her, horrified at the sight of her. Slowly, eyes dim with pain, she reached her hands out and held the fetus out to him. "You... can hold... it..." She whispered. Slowly, he reached up and scooped the tiny thing out of her hands, smearing his own hands with blood. She watched him as he looked down at it, the smile still hovering on her lips. Everything was all better now. Like it was before. Before the promise was broken. Suddenly, she screamed, pain exploding across her abdomen. She fell on her side, clutching herself as she curled into ball feeling more and more blood gush out from the wound. It hurt so much! This was like hell. The pain shrouding her in a thick fog, shutting out everything else. She writhed in agony on the bed for what seemed like years, alone in the suffering and pain, something clawing inside her, begging to get out. Then, nothing, even the fog disappeared. There was only the pain. Slowly, it ebbed. As it always did. Swallowing heavily, she forced herself to sit up, eyes shifting about the dark room. A cool breeze brushed her sweaty skin as she saw on the bed's brown-stained sheets. She shivered, feeling goose-bumps rising and clenched the cotton sheets with her hand. She hated being here. This bed. It didn't feel right. She stood shakily and sat back down by the desk right beside the bed, staring down at the blank paper before her. That bed gave her the creeps. She had no idea why she would still lay in it. She always felt so horribly empty there, like she had lost something. Sometimes she felt choked when she was on it, as if something was trying to steal her life. Or maybe something already had. She shook her head slightly. The bed was just a bed. Nothing happened on it. She never lost anything there. And that was what she told herself, again, and again, and again. "Tokophobia is an extreme and uncontrollable fear of childbirth or pregnancy. While pregnancy is expected to be a time when women experience long bouts of anxiety, when they develop a fear of childbirth so intense that it disrupts their ability to lead normal lives or have a normal birth, they very likely have tokophobia."