Portrait of Abandonment

Laying listlessly on the wadded sheets of her twin bed, she pulled her thighs against her bulging, pregnant belly. Her fisted hands crossed, propping her chin as she wept. She was no longer an individual, but a vessel. A vessel with no captain.

She thrashed and cursed and raged, pleading for love. But nobody came or heard or cared. He told her all about love, and she'd believed him 'til now. She sank further into the twisted sheets, biting at her fist, feeling her eyes swell in the salt of her tears.