As I stood there, alone and hurting, I realized something very clearly.
Michael never loved me. I was just a body, something he could use when needed. And now, even my skin belonged to someone else.
Nevertheless, the phone call I had received might have meant something more. It seemed that I wasn’t as alone as he wanted me to believe. And perhaps … my time as a silent victim was finally coming to an end.
‘Would you bring me gifts that Regina doesn’t want?’
I laughed at myself and didn’t say anything. What was the point?
I went alone to get my medical report. Almost everyone in the hospital had been reassigned to care for Regina. I waited in the hallway for a long time. Finally, an intern walked in, looking a bit nervous and sorry.
"The car accident wasn’t too serious, just some scratches,” she said gently.
“But Miss Cooke, this was your second miscarriage. If you don’t take care of yourself properly, there could be long-term problems."
The intern looked like she wanted to say more. She might want to offer comfort to me. But before she could, someone called her to go do a prenatal checkup for Regina. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but the conversation wasn't quiet either.