Throughout the rest of that day, I waited for Andrew. My eyes were fixed on the metal door, my ears tuned to every footstep, and every sound that might signal his arrival. But Andrew never came.
Not only was his presence absent, but I had no food, no water. Just silence and the growing ache in my body. I held on, determined not to give them the satisfaction of breaking me.
But beneath my determination, fear coiled tight in my stomach. Not exactly for myself but for the tiny life growing inside me. I was only a month along. It was too early and too fragile to suffer.
Every hour without rest or nourishment felt like a threat to the one thing that gave me strength. Aside from the feeding, the night offered no relief. I couldn’t sleep. The room was too cold, too quiet, too full of my thou
