Nov. 26th, 2007

prydeful: (Damaged)
She's bleeding.

You don't think of it as bleeding, really. Or she doesn't, not most months. It's her period. It comes three months, regular as clockwork, when she's on the pill, and it's every five to six weeks when she's not on it. It's just part of a biological system.

But the reality, Kate thinks, is that she's bleeding.

If you bleed this much, people rush to help you. To bandage you up, to stitch up wounds. People recognize it as something being wrong, that the world isn't working like it should. They give you pain medicine and let you cry and scream, because it's a lot of blood, a lot of tissue, and that's got to be a horrible thing.

Unless it's this sort of bleeding. This bleeding from between her legs, she thinks as her hands form fists, and it makes her sicker to see the blood staining her panties than it did to see the blood gushing from a bullet hole in her chest. Than it felt to be gouged through with a beam and pinned to Piotr like a butterfly on a placard.

This is bleeding out, and it's bleeding out with hope, and no one will--

It's just a period. A period, something at the end, something final. It marks the end of one cycle, and now the next starts. It's just a period. A simple function.

Except it's bleeding, too, gushing blood and tissue and hope, more than anything, and since they made that damned cure it seems like Kate's seeing hope bleed out everywhere in ways it never should.

It's not that much blood, part of her wants to say, and it's so much blood she feels like if she stands here it will keep leaking down her legs, stain the floor, her skin, build up around her ankles and drown her whole. Like Alice and her tears.

She didn't know how much she was hoping and praying without words to a deity she doesn't much acknowledge that a baby would be conceived right away. That they'd be started.

She hit the period earlier than she thought she would have, but she hasn't been off the pill for a couple of years.

She didn't even have time to try out the pregnancy test this time. The best pregnancy test there is gave her the answer for free.

She's still bleeding on the floor, Kate realizes, because she's frozen since the moment she realized what was happening, and she quickly cleans up herself best she can, tile somewhat better, and then leans against the wall and closes her eyes.

And the worst part is that part of her is gong inside oh God, one more month, one more month I can't phase just as loudly as the part that's upset and demanding why they can't have their little boy or girl yet. Why they can't have their family yet. It's so fucking easy for so many people, and she knows it's hard for some mutants to conceive with each other, and she is praying to any god that might listen that they don't have that one too. Not that problem, not after all the others.

Sticking a tampon in hurts. In all ways; emotionally, because she doesn't want that little mess of absorbency in her, doesn't want to need it, and physically because Kate has a temper and is losing it, and shoved it in too fast and at the wrong angle.

Pain'll go away, and it's her own damned fault.

It still hurts, though, and it makes her slam her first one, two, three times against the wall, and then more till she's lost count and breathing heavily, shoulders shaking and chest heaving.

She should go out of the bathroom, she realizes, soon.

But first she closes her eyes and lets go for the first time in weeks, lets her body be intangible and her fingers drift through the sink.

There's no reason for the moment not to, after all, and part of her hates herself that she's grateful for this reprieve.

But that doesn't stop her from enjoying it.

resume

Kate Pryde | Shadowcat

July 2016

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