Setting: Copper Bathroom
Time: Day 007
Summary: Sekai is forced to...look at the truth of the matter; even if it's one she doesn't want to face.
Warnings: Blood, pregnancy stuff, partial nudity, etc etc? General grossness. :| Also somewhat ramble-y and somewhat tl;dr.
It was actually a little bit of a nuisance: to have to walk so far down the hall to get to the bathroom, that is. Sekai would have much preferred a shorter, faster walk, from her room to the bathroom. Especially at night, but luckily it was light out, still, and so she didn't have to worry, per se, about a mad dash down the hall. Actually, she distinctly remembered there being a bathroom closer to her room, too, but she also remembered the need to cut through another room to get to it, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. She had a horrible, foreboding feeling about that, and though normally she wouldn't have worried nearly as much...it bothered her. In all honesty it did. She felt like it was a horrible idea to go near that room, and so she didn't. She ignored it and went further down the hall, toward the bathroom she knew was there. At night this caution might not be a wise idea, but she could worry about that when the time came. For now there was probably a few days of daylight left, as strange as that thought still seemed to her, even after all the time she had been in the house so far.
She couldn't quite explain this need, anyway. She hadn't been feeling quite as nauseous, lately, she'd mostly been feeling...weird. Like there was something there, but she couldn't tell what.
So she was hurrying down the hall, walking briskly toward the bathroom, ignoring - to the best of her ability - the cold, chilling air that bite at her. Day or not, it was still cold in this house, and the numb, freezing sensations still managed to hurt.
But she also felt something on her leg; a cold, drip.
Liquid running down her leg, the cold air biting into it and making it freeze against her skin in the most unpleasant way. Like running cold water over your skin while stuck outside. Turning to ice, sticking to the skin. But this wasn't water; it was far warmer, so it created a sort of contrast, warming her before it froze. And it was almost sticky, so it stuck to her skin even more than it might have.
A kind of fear rose in her gut, strange and perhaps somewhat misplaced, uncertain and afraid of what the feeling might be. What it might be that she felt, and what it could possibly mean.
Her steps began to move twice as fast - perhaps even more - as she hurried quickly down the hall, around the corner, into the bathroom. Slamming the door closed behind her, checking to see if it was locked, forcing it as closed as she possibly could, before she began to investigate.
Her mind raced a little bit, fingers dipping down to her legs, where the warm - but quickly chilling - sticky liquid was starting to drip onto her stockings. And she recoiled.
"N-no..." she whispered, a little bit to herself, though she hardly even noticed she did it. That wasn't possible. It wasn't possible. There was no way she could possibly -
She began removing clothing quickly, hoping to prove to herself that it wasn't what she thought it was. That it wasn't anything to be afraid of.
There was so much blood.
"No..." she repeated, shaking her head, hand shooting to her stomach, and gripping at herself, face pale as she felt sickness welling up underneath her hand and trying to fight its way upward, out of her system; onto the floor or otherwise.
That...that couldn't be.
It couldn't be...
She'd - she'd done nothing wrong.
This was a mistake.
She hardly noticed the tears welling up in her eyes, one hand clasped over her mouth and one over her stomach as she stood there, knees shaking. This wasn't right. It was all a dream. It was all a mistake. There was nothing wrong. She still had the child...nothing had happened.
She just needed time to cool down, she realised, as she bent over the toilet, emptying out her stomach, and legs pressed together in a vain effort to stop the flow of blood. She just needed to cool off, get back to her room, get a change of clothes. Maybe do the laundry soon. There was a logical reason for this. She was safe. Her...her and Makoto's child was safe. How could she tell him it was dead if she'd never even told it was alive in the first place? She didn't have to tell him that, though, because it wasn't true; she had cut herself, or something. An infection that made it continue to bleed.
Everything was still okay.