A Mother’s Dilemma

AZALEA

I sit in room, my skin ice cold as I watch the clock tick by, birds chirp merrily, and I can hear guards and maids talking in the corridor next to my room, but it's all background noise to me.

I feel disconnected, as if I'm watching my life unfold from a distance, unable to intervene.

Darla's been with me for days now, her words echoes in my ears, breaking through the fog of my thoughts. She told me about the loss of my baby and how Alpha Andras fired someone because of me. But even with this knowledge, I can't seem to snap out of it.

I manage to clean myself up and change out of the bloodied nightwear but several thoughts drift through my mind like shadows, fleeting and insubstantial.

The more I try to grasp onto them, to find some semblance of coherence in the chaos, the more they slip through my fingers like sand. What did I do to deserve this?

My hands lies limp in my lap, my fingers tracing aimless patterns on the bedspread. The same bedspread where I bled till I bled out