]|[ MiCHELLE❤MooRE ]|[ " #ANDNEW.. "
Jan 28, 2021 4:49:23 GMT
Todrick Tabor and Druscilla “Prophet” White like this
Post by Michelle Moore on Jan 28, 2021 4:49:23 GMT
TRIGGER WARNING:
The following contains details of a miscarriage as experienced by myself. If you are easily upset by things like this, please skip over this section. Thank you.
The following contains details of a miscarriage as experienced by myself. If you are easily upset by things like this, please skip over this section. Thank you.
Begin flashback
She sat in the corner of the room on an oversized round bean bag chair, curled up in a ball and covered with a lap blanket. Her expression was blank as she stared off into nowhere. Her mind was racing. She had so many questions.
How could there be no heartbeat?
Her heart was beating just fine two weeks ago. It was so healthy and strong, the doctor even commented that she was hitting her growth right on schedule.
How could it just stop after 22 weeks?
We had made it past the hard part. They told us once we saw and heard the heart beating on the ultrasound machine that our chances of loss were four percent! We had seen and heard her sweet heart beating so many times.
A single tear dropped from her eye and ran down her cheek as she stared at the clock. The hands moved so slowly and the sounds of the clock ticking were ringing through her ears - it felt like time had literally stopped. Her body jerked as she was startled when her cell phone vibrated on the wooden table in front of her. Reaching over, she grabbed it reading the text. It was from Brandon.. she didn't know how to respond.
How am I going to tell him?
He already loved her so much. She wasn't even here yet and she was Daddys little girl. He had already sworn to do anything for her. He was going to be devastated.
Why me? Why her? Why us?
I did everything right! I was so careful. I loved her so much - WE loved her so much. This wasn't supposed to happen to us. We weren't supposed to lose her. The doctors kept telling us, the risk was so low. We had made it to half way, the risk was literally .6 percent. Why?
Her lip quivered as more tears ran down her face. The phone vibrated again to remind her that she hadn't responded. She sighed as she set the phone back on the table before pushing herself up into a sitting position. She brought her legs down and placed them onto the floor before getting up to her feet. She placed her hand over her small, round belly and gently caressed it, like she had done a thousand times before. She used her other hand to wipe her eyes before she headed out of the room and up the stairs towards the bathroom.
The doctor she saw today wasn't her normal OB, maybe he was mistaken? This was just supposed to be a normal check up. Nothing was supposed to happen. Brandon.. oh my God, Brandon..
She made her way up the stairs and down the hallway, it felt like an eternity but she made it. Into the bathroom she flipped the light switch on and walked over in front of the full length mirror.
She shook her head as she looked at her reflection, her beautiful belly, just beginning to show the signs of the life that was growing inside. Tears flooded her eyes as she let her hands gently cradle around her unborn babies home.
She reached her left hand into her back pocket, pulling her phone out. She glances down at the screen, swiping it and typing the words "not good." She then sat the phone down onto the counter and made her way over to the shower.
As she got to the shower, she pulled open the glass door to reveal a huge walk in shower. She reaches inside and switches the water on and it begins to pour out from the shower heads on both sides of the shower. She let out a sigh as she stepped inside, her body fully clothed. She walked towards the center, the water from both heads hitting her body as she lowered herself into a seated position. She brought her knees up to her chest, her head resting in her hands as she sat in the water, bawling her eyes out over the death of her unborn baby girl.
End flashback.
Every year on this day she made sure that she took the day to relax - to remember not just the life lost but the memories that she had during those 22 weeks. People were right when they told her that she would never forget the day, the way she felt or anything else but that it would slowly get easier as time went by.
She walked through the door, her body wrapped in a short white towel and her hair pulled up into a messy bun at the top of her head. She looked around the room, taking in everything it had to offer. From the serene waterfall in the corner to the beautiful smell of lavender and vanilla coming from the floating candles in the pond.
She stepped forward and over to the long massage table in front of her, before climbing up and sitting on the edge of it.
" These days, I swear, it honestly feels like I'm scraping the bottom of the barrel. Like, I understand that everyone deserves a moment - everyone deserves a chance to feel like they're something special, to feel like they can accomplish things so long as they set their minds to it. But I just feel like we're rewarding mediocrity around here.
I mean, we have a wannabe barbie doll running around backstage telling everyone who will listen that she is the face of fade to black. Okay? I guess if we don't want to attract decent talent we can call Atara Themis the face of the company.
yawn.
I seem to remember Atara having a problem with me being the Queen. I don't know why, I mean, I am. She claimed that I was ridiculous to even insinuate such a thing and that I was nothing more than a mere peasant - funny. Hilarious actually. At least I am not the only one who refers to myself as the Queen. When people speak of me, professionally or just socially they will remark that I am the Queen. However, when people speak of you, Atara, no one says 'oh hey, yeah ain't she the face of fade to black?' No, do you know what they say?
NOTHING.
No one talks about you, no one cares about you. Not one person who comes to the Fade to Black shows buys a ticket to see you, not even your own family. You don't mean shit to this business. Just another ring rat who's already had too much air time.
Wait.. wait. I forgot. I have faced you before Atara, and what happened? Oh thats right. You said you were going to take my crown and beat me to move on in the Blackout Championship Tournament, but that didn't happen, did it? No, thats right. You talked your shit, but what happened when I stepped to you in that ring?
Thats right! You pissed on yourself..
Literally. You let your mouth run off a little too much and I had to shut it for you. But hey, you didn't get off too bad, right? I mean those 2 bitchboys Andrews and Dawson seem to really like you. Why else would they keep handing you all these participation trophies?
I'm not talking about the High Voltage Championship when I speak of your participation trophies.. what I am speaking of is all the television appearances outside of fade to black, I'm talking the lack of talent you have had to step into the ring with to get the championship. I mean seriously? Chatman? That guy couldn't even beat himself, why would we think you couldn't beat him?
Its a different story for you this week though, Atara. Your first and last title defense. This match will end the same way for you as the last time we faced each other, however this time, before the announcer says my name, the following words will echo through your ears as you are left lying in a heap like the trash you are..
#AAAANNDNEEEEWW"
The scene fades out just as she finished her words and laid down onto that massage table, awaiting the masseuse.