I wanted to stay in bed, but the fact someone else was in here made me get up from the bed and pull out my bags. I packed up my stuff. As soon as I was done, I pulled it down to my truck and packed it into the back. I was starving by the time I was done, but I pushed myself to keep going. The truck was full, and I needed to grab food to fill the apartment. So I was going to head to the caff, but Rowan’s words stopped me. I needed to be weak, hurt, isolated. So I slid into my truck and rubbed my eyes. I sat there, and I remembered my first like. My death. And the anger came, but so did my loss. My baby was gone and there was nothing I could do. I placed my hand on my belly and I remembered the feeling of his first kicks, his butterfly like movement in my stomach. And then I remembered the feeling of having him ripped from me. The only time I got to hold his tiny body. And then the tears came. Once I had cried for my lost child, I sent a prayer to the moon goddess to tell my boy how
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