Warning: the following chapter contains graphic depictions of pregnancy loss

I didn't understand how he could find the time to read my messages without a quick response. It didn't add up. And when I checked his Instagram for the millionth time—seeing the new posts, added stories, and recent live stream—the dreaded realisation started to finally settle into my head: it's over.

Frazer always told me to not jump to that conclusion, my last shred of hope begged.

But Frazer hasn't spoken to me in two weeks. Even though I've stressed it's important.

As a last ditch attempt, I sent him another text, waiting until the two blue ticks appeared before my eyes without a typed response. Then, once they did, I called him.

The line rang, and rang, and rang, until I reached voicemail.

You have reached the message back of 0465...

So I called again, wondering if I spammed his phone, perhaps he'd finally acknowledge me.

It rang, and it rang, but then...

You have reached the—

Then again. Ring... Ring... You have reached the—

The last time I tried, I didn't even get the ringtone. I just went straight to voicemail.

Deflated, I exited my phone call history and brought up my calendar, doing some quick maths to work out the logistics. After writing it all down, I concluded, He has until Thursday night... Otherwise I take the pill and start this process without him. I'll spend my second last weekend before uni starts in pain... But after that, it will be a fresh start, I guess.

Though, like the scratched record I had become, I opened my texts to check for messages before going back to his social media pages to look for updates of him. My desire for him was a sickness that I worried I might never cure.

◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷

He never did call. So when Thursday evening arrived, I took the first drug at 10pm, hoping I could potentially sleep off the symptoms if they started. Though I awoke the next day feeling fine.

Friday passed like it was any other day, and I spent it in front of the television watching terrible rom-coms and wondering why I didn't get my happy ending.

Though I knew they were fictional stories.

I told Frazer that loves that last were fairy tales.

Yet he still made me believe...

That evening passed just the same: uneventful. No calls. No symptoms. Nothing new.

So when Saturday arrived, I was almost certain that this process was going to be smoother than I thought. At 10am, I had reached the 36 hour mark since the first drug, so I popped the four pills of the second drug in my mouth. It was an uncomfortable experience to hold the pills in my mouth for thirty minutes... especially when Archie came in to ask me something.

Though I managed, and when my timer sounded I swallowed it down with water and waited for the bleeding to begin.

I had a heat pack ready to go, a packet of paracetamol in my room, and an overnight pad on to soak everything up.

Though when nothing happened by midday, I decided I should be right to go to the kitchen to fix my lunch. The shrill sounds of childrens' voices echoed through the open space as my brother sat on the couch watching reruns of some show.

Taking the edge off the cartoons was the gentle hum of the lawnmower outside, dulling the sharpness of the sounds as dad trimmed the grass.

I boiled a kettle.

I placed a pot on the stove.

I poured in the hot water and dropped in the instant noodles.

Five minutes later, I served my lunch into a bowl.

However, as I walked towards the dining table, the first twinge began.

It's just a normal period cramp, I tried to assure myself.

Yet a few bites later, the intensity had increased.

Just finish your food and take some pain relief then you'll be—

But the next wave of cramps had me doubling over at the table.

"Em?" Archie asked from his spot on the couch after I emitted a muffled groan.

"I'm right," I tried to comfort him. Though I certainly wasn't convincing when I heaved another groan.

My brother jumped to his feet and came over to me. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing... bad period cramps. I just need some Panadol." I got up to head back to my room so that I could down some drugs in the hopes to quell the ache.

Yet as I retreated from my brother's wary stares, his gasp behind me had me coming to a halt. Especially when he yelped, "Em, you're bleeding."

"What?" I tried glancing back at my pants. Though it wasn't necessary as it had soaked through the front as well. "Oh," I tried to feign calmness, "I just need to change my pad is all... It happens."

Though never this bad...

I stumbled away from my brother, down the hallway, pausing as I wondered where to go first. Bathroom to change? Bedroom for drugs?

Though as I felt a trickle down my leg, I shuffled my way towards the bathroom first, grabbing the pads before retreating to my room.

Stripping out of the bottom half of my clothes, I changed my underwear and pants as fast as I could as more waves of agony rolled over me. Then, with fumbling hands, I reached for the pain relief and gulped two down.

I fell to the ground as another cramp tore through me, letting out another moan of misery. The sound exiting my mouth was louder than I expected though, so I reached for my pillow from my bed and heaved my next sob into it.

Yet my attempts to muffle my cries were pointless, as a hesitant knock sounded on the door. "Are you sure you're fine, Em?"

"Perfectly," I tried to sound cheery as I forced the word through gritted teeth.

"Did you want me to bring your lunch to you?" The worry was still lacing his tone.

"No... I've lost my appetite. Could you... uh... clean up for—" But the words were lost to another cry of distress.

"Em?" The door handle jingled, but thankfully I had locked it.

More pressing were the feelings of a wetness at my legs once more.

With all the strength I could muster, I straightened my body as much as I could to glance down at my pants.

They've soaked through again.

"Archie," I panted, "Get dad."

He didn't say anything back, but his hurried footsteps down the hall were enough confirmation.

The lawnmower stopped not long after, with footsteps following.

"Em?" my dad's voice asked through the door next before the doorknob jingled. "Em, what's wrong?"

"Hold on..." I crawled towards the door, forcing myself up to unlock it.

At once, dad hurried in, his eyes going wide as he took in my state. "What's happening?"

"I think I need to go to the hospital," I managed to get out through another roll of cramps. "I took Panadol, but the pain isn't going away." I screamed another cry afterwards.

"I'm calling an ambulance... This isn't a normal period," he said—to me, or himself, I wasn't sure. But he was gone for a moment, returning an excruciating seconds later with his phone.

My ability to follow along was waning, my head starting to go foggy, but I caught snippets of his conversation with the emergency officer.

"There's lots of blood... She's quite warm to the touch... Yes, I believe she is. She has a boyfriend... I'll check. Em? I know it hurts, but I need you to try to answer me, okay? Have you taken anything?"

"Mhmm," I managed to grunt.

"What have you taken?"

"Panadol..."

"Okay. Anything else?"

Nodding, I weakly pointed at my bedside table.

My father paused for a moment, unsure what I was saying. But when the light seemed to switch on, he yanked open my drawer and pulled out the package.

"It says... MS-2 Step... Oh." He glanced at me for a moment before looking back at the package. "I understand. Em, how long ago did you take the Panadol?"

I tried to respond, but a grunt exited me instead.

Nonetheless, a voice in the hallway squeaked, "Not long before I got you." My brother's head poked around the corner, eyes widening at the sight of the blood.

Dad said into the phone, "Fifteen minutes most... Okay. Ibuprofen too... Let me check." He turned to me again. "Em, did you take all pills as per the instructions?"

"Yes," I hissed.

"How long ago?"

"About... ten."

"Hours ago?"

"A.M."

"10am today?"

"Mhmm."

Dad glanced at the time. "So it's been two and a half hours..." He was back to talking to the operator again. "Four hours of no change? Alright... Will do... Yup... Understood." Then he hung up the phone. "Archie, I know this is pretty scary, but I've got your sister, okay? How about you go to your room for a while and I will call you or get you if it's important."

"But—"

Dad was scooping me up in his arms. "You don't need to see this, Arch. Plus, Em will want some privacy."

"Fine," he grumbled before slumping away.

All the while, dad walked us to the bathroom, carefully placing me on the cold tiles as he turned on the shower.

"They said to sit in warm water. I'll get you a towel to help you cover up..."

And so dad held me up, looking away as I removed my pants and climbed into the shower, only turning to face me once more after I gave him the all clear as I draped the towel over my bottom half, still sporting my shirt and bra.

"They said it can take up to half an hour for the Panadol to help. They also said Nurofen can help and you can take it as well. I'll get you some, okay?" He paused, clearly wary about leaving me, but nonetheless took off as I cried another yelp.

Not long after, he returned with more drugs for me. I did my best to swallow it down before sobbing against the wall.

"They said it might take up to four hours to... expel the pregnancy. But if it doesn't get better after that then you have to go to ED. Or if you feel no change in the pain after half an hour from the Nurofen. So hang on a bit longer, Em."

I nodded my understanding as another whimper came out of my mouth. The warm water was helping a little, and within a few minutes the edge seemed to be fading, though the agony was still rolling through me in waves, demanding every bit of my attention.

What followed was the longest hour and a half of my life, as blood gushed out of me and down the drain and large clumps of matted blood and tissue went with it.

Within the midst of it all, I could see dad torn between averting his eyes and alarmed at the state of his daughter.

The only thing that seemed to help him through this all was when he offered me his hand and I willingly took it as a clutch to clench onto as my body gave itself over to expelling the life from me.

At many times I regretted going through with the procedure.

Though at other moments that I had clarity within it all, I also wondered what it would have felt like if I saw it to the end...

If it hurts this much passing something small... what about a whole baby forcing itself from my body?

In that moment, I was convinced I'd live the life of a saint after this. That I'd never engage in any sexual activity again and live a childless life.

After four hours, the bleeding reduced, though the pain got worse and my vision started to go black.

So dad got out his phone again to call an ambulance.

What happened after was a blur as the world disappeared to glimpses of black.

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