Have just read that back and it sounds like an episode of a soap opera, not a real life....but it was . the ambulance came and the stupid bastard wouldnt go, so they called the police who came and threw him (god you've got to love the met police of london sometimes) into the ambulance and off they drove. I dont really remember the next few days, the passgae of time and all that , but I do remember the sunday he hit me, the sunday at 2.30 pm he hit me in the stomach, and then threw himself on the floor begging me to forgive him, how sorry he was and how he would clean his life up etc etc.
And I remember how he went out of the house saying he had to sort "stuff" out" and I remember the monday morning, when I woke up at 1 am in pain, my stomach hurting like a stab wound, the dragging pain down my legs. I remember the fear as I looked under the duvet and saw the blood. I remember crawling to the phone to call an ambulance , and being unable to answer the door. The sound of the door crashing open as one of London's finest kicked it open. And I remember the ambulance woman wrapping her arms around me , and holding me as I sobbed and sobbed as she put me in the chair.
And now it still hurts to remember lying in the cubicle in the hospital as the midwife looked at me and shook her head and said how sorry she was, and then my bloodpressure fell through the floor. I woke up in a ward between two girls discussing their abortions,I just wanted to die.......my whole world had fallen apart, my one chance of a baby, my little miracle was gone. And then he walked into the room..........with a bunch of flowers..............I have never actually thrown up at the sight of someone....until then. It stopped the 2 girls talking and he was removed by the nurses before I became completely hysterical
No, matter how many children you have your first is always somehow special and now it had been stolen from me. my mind was spinning , I needed to get away, mostly from him, and so when I was discharged the next day, i just got on a train and went to my parents, My mum met me at the train staion , took one look at me and drove me to the hospital......I lost 3 days there and then.And when I woke up I still wanted to die.The pain I felt inside me was like nothing I had felt before, I had lost a grandparent and a boyfriend before, but not a baby, not a future...............I had to go home , I had to see him and sort out my life.
My parents begged me not to go, to let them come , but I knew if I didnt do this and do it by myself then I wouldnt be able to do anything for myself again, and so I got back on the train and with each mile closer to london I found myself filling with hate, hate for him and the life he led, hate for what he had done and hate for what he had done to me, but most of all I wanted him to hurt as much as I did. I have never hated anyone until then, but oh how I hated him.
