When She Left Pregnant

The Scars She Hid From The World

REGINA MCBRIDE

The heavy iron gates of the Wilderness Correction Camp groaned as they released me after three years of state-sponsored hell. I stood on the dirt road, clutching a plastic bag that held my entire life, waiting for the family that claimed they sent me there for "rehab." My brother, Brady, picked me up in a luxury SUV only to throw me out onto a deserted highway in the middle of a brewing storm. He told me I was a "public relations nightmare" and that the rain might finally wash the "stink" of the camp off me. He drove away, leaving me to limp miles through the mud on a snapped ankle. When I finally dragged myself to our family estate, my mother didn't offer a hug; she gasped in horror because my muddy clothes were ruining her Italian marble. They didn't give me my old room back. Instead, they banished me to a moldy gardener’s shack and hired a "babysitter" to make sure I didn't embarrass them further. My sister, Kaleigh, stood there in white cashmere, pretending to cry while clinging to her fiancé, Ambrose—the man who had once been mine. They all treated me like a volatile junkie, refusing to acknowledge that Kaleigh was the one who planted the drugs in my bag three years ago. They wanted to believe I was broken so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about the "wellness retreat" that was actually a torture chamber. I sat in the dark of that shed, feeling the cooling gel on the cigarette burns that covered my arms, and realized they had made a fatal mistake. They thought they had erased me, but I had returned with a roadmap of scars and a hidden satellite phone. At dinner, I didn't beg for their love. I simply rolled up my sleeves and showed them the price of their silence. As the wine spilled and the lies crumbled, I sent a single text to the only person I trusted: "I'm in. Let them simmer." The hunt was finally on.

Modern Revenge Scheming

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“Hey, good morning,” Her husband said, planting many kisses from her face to her ears and her neck. His hands already found their way to her breast from under the sheets and cupped them before she opened her eyes.

Without giving her any chance to respond to his greetings and tell him she wasn’t in the mood, his hands were on their way to her pants as they struggled to get them off her legs.

His lips nibbled on her neck, kissing and sucking on her chocolate skin. Kambili let him; surely he wouldn’t even believe her if she told him that she was not in the mood. For him, it would be another of her excuses not to have sex with her husband.

And she didn’t want that. She didn’t like it either. So she let him. Besides, she was married to him, and it was only right that she gave him sex whenever he wanted it, as much as he wanted it. She lay still, faking out a moan as he penetrated and began thrusting and pommeling in and out of her like he was training for a marathon.

Was she enjoying it? No. Did she want to have sex? Yes. She just couldn’t say what had happened to her or her libido. In the beginning, it wasn’t like that. She used to anticipate sex with Aaron like she anticipated Christmas. And she loved sex with him like she loved eating ice cream, even in cold weather.

But now, after six years of being married to Aaron, she couldn’t explain what went wrong. Also, she couldn’t say that Aaron wasn’t doing what needed to be done; at least she hoped he was.

Because she couldn’t blame him for anything, she blamed her stupid libido, maybe, or the fact that she had begun thinking so much lately. She couldn’t say exactly what had gone wrong with her. And when he climaxed, she had to fake her orgasm. Fake that she enjoyed it all along.

She hated it every time she had to fake her orgasm. Hated it all the time she had to pretend. But for her husband, for the sake of their love, and the sake of their marriage, she would, and she did.

Even when she felt guilty in many ways, she didn’t like upsetting Aaron, no matter what.

“So, what’s your plan for the day?” He asked Kambili who was standing up and making her way to the bathroom.

“I’m meeting with Dr. Fred today,” she replied as she turned on the shower.

“Dr. Fred? That, Dr. Fred? Why are you meeting with him?” He asked, going to meet her in the shower.

Dr. Fred was her doctor somehow and he was a friend of her father's.

He had also taught her back when she was in medical school. After years of joblessness and with her husband owing the bank, she couldn’t possibly remain jobless.

So Dr. Fred was the only one she had to run to for help. Just the day before, he had called her to meet up with him in the hospital. Though she didn’t know why, she only hoped it was for the best.

“I asked him to help me with a recommendation. I’m tired of being jobless and wasting my degree.” Then she stepped out of the shower, wrapping a large green towel around her body.

“Why do you want to work all of a sudden?” Aaron asked calmly but upset.

“Because I’m tired of being jobless. And besides, we still haven’t paid the loan you took from the bank.” Kambili said and walked over to the dresser to pick out what to wear.

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