Bab 3: Pregnant
After what seemed like an eternity lost in the abyss of cold fear, she finally gathered her wits. Summoning every ounce of courage she possessed, she slowly lifted her lids and dared a glance around.
With significant difficulty, she tried to stand, her fragile frame trembling with the effort. An excruciating pain coursed through her body with her every movement. Her clothes, battered from the ordeal, hung loosely on her figure, failing miserably to mask the horrifying truth of her violated innocence in the most terrible way.
Despite the burden weighing heavy on her heart, she tried to make her escape from the cold clutches of reality. Contrary to her racing heart and frantic mind, her feet moved very slowly - as if in slow motion, making each moment feel like a heavy drag.
With every step she took, her mind grew progressively numb, each footfall pushing her further into an abyss of emotionless hollow. It was an abyss, devoid of any semblance of light, a staggering contrast from the vibrant life she never knew.
The world around her blurred, gradually and mercilessly, her consciousness began to tear away from her. Not a ripple of fear dared disturb this artificially conjured serenity, nor could any tendrils of pain extend their insidious reach into her consciousness.
When she opened her eyes again, the darkness had succumbed to the intruding dawn. She found herself in a thatch hut, the tangy aroma of dried straw overwhelming her senses. Underneath her, a crude mattress of hay provided a surprising comfort.
The soft glow of early morning light filtered through the cracks, casting dancing rays across the room. A harmony of unfamiliar sounds greeted her ears - the chirping birds, whispers of gentle breeze, and the rustle of nearby leaves. Somewhere in the distance, a rooster crowed, marking the birth of a new day.
"You're awake?', an unfamiliar voice greeted her ears.
She surveyed the room, her eyes landing on a solitary figure. A middle-aged woman was seated at a table, her hands held a worn-out book. She possessed a quietly dignified air, her silvering hair eloquently tied up in a bun and reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. The woman was looking at her.
For an extended period, Aalia laid quietly, her brows furrowed in deep concentration. The rusty gears of time seemed only to move backwards as she sought to untangle the memories.
"How long have I been here?", her lips slightly moved.
"Forty-nine days. My brother found you when he went to training. You were seriously injured, and your state of mind was unstable", The woman answered.
"And you're pregnant.", the woman continued and carefully observed her reaction.
She was silent, merely laid there quietly on the bed, her gaze affixed to the innocuous ceiling. Her eyes mirrored a deep and ceaseless sorrow. No words slipped from her lips; her throat too choked for any sound to escape. Occasionally, her eyelashes fluttered, the only evident sign of her emotional tumult.
Without a sound, without a word of complaint or despair, tears streamed down her cheeks, tracing familiar paths before soaking into the pillow beneath her. The silence hung heavy in the room, yet it was not empty – it was filled with a symphony of unspoken words, heartaches and cries that perhaps, only the ceiling understood.
The woman looked at her for a while and went out. After some time, she came in with a bowl in her hands.
"You're very week so you can't have an abortion. Take the medicine", the woman reminded her before left.
Painful humiliation bore heavily on her shoulders, an overpowering force she found impossible to shake. It had ensnared her soul, an endless echo in the depths of her heart, resonating with every beat. The world seemed to pivot on the axis of her disgrace, casting a relentless shadow over her life. Any attempts to dismiss the shame were futile, unproductive against the iron grip of her memory.
Though, with a gentle, hesitant motion, Aalia stretched out her hand and touched her stomach. There was no pain, no physical discomfort to confide in, yet a silent hollow echo reverberated through her very being. A peculiar sensation swept over her - she identified joy in the blend of emotions.
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone