Chapter 2 The story they never tell

It started with him coming home late at night, and then, It was his frequent upheavals. He would kick her, slap her, push her, trip her over, throw things at her, yell abuses, call her demeaning names but the next day he'd be on his knees, full of remorse, promising that things would be different- that he wouldn't hurt her anymore.

He lied.

Three years ago, Nia had gotten married to the love of her life. Things were perfect. Being with him felt like heaven, a dream she had never thought would come true. Four months later, that dream turned into a real-life nightmare.

Vincent changed.

But the funny truth was, she didn't mind her dilemma. Or at least, she hadn't, not until recently. It had never occurred to her that her relationship with him had become toxic because even with the few bruises, she enjoyed life quite well and as long as he apologized, things returned back to normal, but today at 24, his kicks and verbal assaults were little compared to the daily agony and misery she lived through.

Breaking herself out of her thoughts, she blinked, a few beads of irate tears spattering on the test result she'd been blankly staring at for the past five minutes.

"Nia, are you alright?" The doctor, Isobel asked, offering her a tissue wrap.

Was she alright?

At first, she'd tried not to let the news overwhelm her as she had sooner expected it but still, finding out that the child you've been carrying in your womb was gone hurt like a bullet wound. It felt like her chest had been ripped apart, shattering her soul and breaking the heart inside of her.

So no, she wasn't alright but she was used to it, used to the pain that constantly followed her little moment of happiness.

This wasn't the first time she had lost a child, it wasn't the second either and as long as Vincent was still a part of her life, it wasn't going to be the last.

Six months into their union, when she first discovered she was pregnant, Vincent seemed over the moon with the news but a few months later, the baby was gone; he'd beaten it out of her like it meant nothing - like she meant nothing.

It was wounding, she'd felt real pain, on like never before. Yet, even with all this, she'd forgiven him and It only took five months to get another plus sign on the stick but it didn't last up to the first trimester because three weeks later, she ended up in hospital with a ruptured cyst on her ovary.

And now the third.

"Do you want to tell me what happened this time?" Isobel asked, looking at her quizzically from across the table.

Nia looked up, tears of shame pricking her eyes. "I..." For a few moments, she'd been at a loss of words. "I..." She trailed off again, gripping on the hem of her blouse as she thought back to how he had pushed her to the ground and beaten her-kicking and kicking until he was sober enough to notice her blood that stained her thighs.

Of course, if she wanted to live long enough to see the next full moon or even the next sunrise, she couldn't tell anyone. It was a story she never told and even if she did no one would believe it. Vincent was a reputable man in the metropolis and she, well she was just his wife; a black erratic woman who he had married out of remorse and love.

She wiped her eyes and sucked in a deep breath before spewing out the quickest lie she could think of. "I slipped from the stairs on my way to make dinner."

Isobel shook her head warily, like she had expected nothing less than the lie she'd just heard. "Must have been a terrible fall," she said, leaning further into her desk. "Except your husband told me you tripped in the kitchen."

Nia parted her lips to immediately defend herself but was shut up by the wave of Isobel's hand. "If you're going to cover up for him then I don't want to hear it. This is your third miscarriage and every time it's one excuse to another. Be honest with me Nia, what's going on?"

When she didn't say a word for as much as a minute, Isobel got up from her chair and crossed the table to meet her.

"Vincent stopped seeing his therapist and has refused to renew his bipolar medications. He's hitting you again isn't he?"

Nia shook her head fervently. "No, he's not." She defended for the fear that if she had done otherwise, his punches and the bruises they left would've been the least of her worries.

Isobel sighed. "Nia," she placed a hand on her shoulder. "I've been in this business for year's and I've seen people die from domestic violence. It's not a nice thing to go through and I would be damned if I let the same fate befall my patient. You can tell me anything, come on."

"Vincent isn't - Vincent isn't abusing me."

"Nia talk to me. You're safe here, the authorities will- "

"He's not!" She deadpanned, cutting her off quite suddenly and then apologizing after. "I- I'm sorry."

Isobel sighed, her eyes clouding with disappointment as she withdrew her hand, got up, and straightened out her coat.

"It's fine," she said, walking back to sit behind her desk. "You're going through a lot right now so I won't push it but please be more careful. Your womb is already so fragile and I'm afraid any more miscarriages might cause unfixable damage."

Nia nodded. She understood quite well. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. You can go now, get some rest and give yourself time to heal, okay?"

Nia got up, feigned a wobbly smile, and nodded a thank you before exiting the building with a heavy heart and aching chest.