Higher T for subject matter

Trigger: highly sensitive topic

Disclaimer: No.

Miscarriage

"Alright, you little punks, you're going to be fighting one another today. We've been working on techniques for a week now, so this shouldn't be a problem." I clasped my hands behind my back and marched around my students, a rag-tag slew of demigods ranging from six to twelve. Why Chiron stuck me with one of the youngest groups was beyond me. "Remember, camp rules indicate no intentional maiming or killing, and I'm not getting in trouble over you squirts, so keep it clean. Unless you really, really want to hurt someone, then don't get caught. Everyone, get on your armor, grab a sword, and get going. Any questions?"

Andrew's hand shot up.

"If you are asking me for a bathroom break I swear to Zeus-"

"I went before I came," he promised hastily, "but I gotta go again!"

I clapped my hand over my face. "Go. And anyone else who has to go, or might have to go, or even thinks about going, go right now. You have five minutes."

Half my class went sprinting out the door.

This was going to be a long lesson.

It was hectic enough, kids trying to find armor that fit and a sword that was the right weight, and of course I had to help them because gods forbid they did anything for themselves. And lucky me got to do it twice for the rugrats that came back from the bathroom. I deserved a medal for not drop-kicking any of them.

Things finally calmed down, and I was reminded that maybe this wasn't the worst class in the world. They were growing into warriors-small, poorly-coordinated warriors, but warriors nonetheless. And every time they won a match, they'd look at me with the biggest smile on their faces, searching for my approval. At the risks of tears, which I could not deal with, I'd give it in the form of a thumbs-ups.

The threat of crying was the only reason I bothered to acknowledge their victories. Seriously. It's not like I really cared or anything, and anyone who says otherwise will get an electric spear shoved up their ass.

The lesson was wrapping up when Percy walked in. Immediately, my students stopped fighting and glared at him. I may or may not have convinced them that he had soaked me with toilet water after I kicked his butt in a sparring match. Hey, it's not my fault they believe everything I tell them.

He rolled his eyes. "You brain-washed them."

I shrugged. "Whatever. Don't you have a class to be teaching?"

"Just finished. I came by to see if you wanted to spar." He gestured to the kids. "You know, as a teaching technique."

"Clarisse'll kick your butt!" Maggie jeered, her little hands planted on her hips. Man, I hoped she turned out to be my sister.

"Yeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaah," the others added, sticking out their tongues.

Percy raised on eyebrow at me, as if to say, Really? I just shrugged again and picked a sword. "You have the whole camp worshipping you, let me have these guys."

A small smile crossed his face. "You like them, don't you?"

I snorted and commanded, "C'mon, Prissy, you came to fight, so let's fight."

He quickly pulled on his armor and took Riptide out of his pocket; the match was on.

As much as I hate to admit it, we're pretty equally matched when it comes to sword-fighting, and there was no way he'd give me an easy win just because these were my students. Almost ten minutes in, no one had an upper hand. That was when his eyes widened and barely deflected my attack. "Clarisse, you're bleeding."

"Nice try."

He dodged my next blow. "No, really, look down. I think...I think you have..."

I followed his eyes. Blood was seeping through the inner thighs of my cargo pants.

Son of a bitch.

Suddenly motivated, I brought a couple of rapid, well-aimed swings against him, and he fell to the ground. Amidst the cheering of my tiny terrors, whom I thankfully had my back to, I said loudly, "Good practice. Hit the showers," and got the Hades out of there.

Because of the craziness of camp life, my period had never been regular. Months at a time would pass before I got it again, which was the case now. Cursing profusely under my breath, I headed to the bathroom.

With my adrenaline fading, I felt an onslaught of painful cramps, worse than I ever experienced before. Fantastic. The flow of blood, too, was the heaviest I'd ever had. I groaned and leaned my head against the bathroom stall. This was absolutely humiliating. Every time I tried to stand, the cramps flared and kept me rooted in my spot.

This is ridiculous, I thought. You are Clarisse, Drakon Slayer. Suck it up, get off your ass, and move on.

My pep talk worked, and I managed to drag myself to my cabin. Everyone else was still out, thank gods, so, after turning the place upside-down looking for a fricking pad, I crawled into my bed and stripped my blood-soaked garments off my body. Just as I will slipping on something clean, another wave of horrific throbbing gripped me. A Hades of a lot more than blood started streaming down my legs.

This was bad. This was bad in so many ways. I had no idea what was happening, but those clumps of I don't even know what told me this was a lot worse than a normal period.

I draped the covers over me and waited for one of my siblings, forcing myself to take deep breaths to keep from losing my mind.

Mark was barely one foot in the room when I barked, "Get Chiron! Now!"

He knew better than to question me.

When he and Chiron returned, I pointed at the door. "Mark, get out. And keep out everyone else, too."

"This must be serious," Chiron said quietly, watching the door close.

"Yeah." I looked away, reconsidering this. "Um, actually, I think I'd rather have an Apollo camper. A female one."

"Ah. It's personal."

"Something like that."

"Clarisse, do you trust me?"

"Well, yeah, but-" I clenched my teeth to counter the sudden pain.

"What's wrong?"

"Cramps," I grunted. "But they're not normal."

He nodded solemnly. "You could be having an ovarian cyst."

"I don't think that's it. There's something wrong. The blood's darker than usual, almost brown, and there are these...these clumps. That's never happened."

"Clumps," he repeated. There was a sadness that wasn't there before. "When was the last time you had your period?"

"Uh, over three months ago."

He was quiet for a moment, contemplating. His hand came to rest on my forehead. "Clarisse, my dear, I think...I think you are having a miscarriage. I'm so sorry."

I stared at him in disbelief. That couldn't be right. "No, Chiron, no way. I wasn't pregnant."

"You and Chris aren't sexually active?"

"Oh, we are. Very active. But he always, always wears a condom. I won't let him near me if he's not."

"Could one have broken?"

I thought back to an incident, one that happened just a week after my last period. "Okay, that happened once and we didn't even know until afterwards. But, seriously, no. I'm not having a miscarriage."

"It would be best if I took you to the Big House," he said softly, as though I hadn't spoken. "There's a shower; the warm water will help with the cramps."

Now I was pissed. "Well, if you want me to go, let me get dressed first."

He didn't reprimand me, just thoughtfully walked outside.

"No idea what he's talking about," I grumbled angrily, tugging on underwear and my loosest pair of sweats. "I am not having a fricking miscarriage. That's just stupid."

I jumped to my feet and headed out the door. Chiron only glanced at me before returning inside and pulling back the blanket, inspecting what looked like a massacre on my sheets. His shoulders sagged, remained that way when he came to my side. "Clarisse," he whispered gently, "you had a miscarriage. Those clumps were the placenta."

"You're wrong," I growled, taking a step back.

"I have seen this before," he continued. "I'm sorry."

"No," I protested, but it didn't sound so tough with my knees buckling under my weight.

He caught me before I fell. "We will talk more, at the Big House. You can walk?"

"Of course," I snarled.

I ended up leaning on him for support. He didn't say a word about it.

Mr. D watched as we entered; him and Chiron seemed to have a silent conversation, and the god, exaggerating a yawn, left the building.

"The shower is upstairs, on the left," Chiron said in that understanding, sympathetic voice of his. I hated that voice. "I'll have someone bring clean clothes. You can stay in there as long as you need to."

"'Kay."

His hand caught my wrist. "Do you want to tell Chris?"

"He doesn't have to know."

"Clarisse, this involves him, too."

"Then you tell him." I jerked away and stormed up the stairs.

In the bathroom, I blasted the hot water and sat down in the shower, unable to even stand. Blood stained the tub red. There were more clu...placenta. Placenta. From a baby. Mine and Chris's.

I rested my head on the wall, reality sinking in. I'd been pregnant. There had been a baby inside of me. I would've been a mom, Chris would have been a dad, we would have been a family.

I watched that future dribble down the drain.

You're only twenty. You weren't ready for a kid, anyway. Seriously, you want to be weighed down by that? Besides, you'd be a horrible mom. You're not compassionate, or warm, or nice. You don't even like hugs. You can't sing, or cook, and your smile is more of a sneer than anything. This is a good thing. This is a good thing.

That phrase repeated itself over and over again, until the water had turned cold and the blood had lightened slightly and the cramps had subsided. Just as I turned the faucet off and wrapped myself in a towel, there was a knock at the door.

"Clean clothes," I muttered, reaching for the knob. "Thank gods."

Chris was standing on the other side. I slammed the door in his face.

"Clarisse, please," he pleaded. "You have to talk about it."

"About what?"

"Don't do this, please."

"I'm not talking. I'm fine." I cracked up the door, just enough for my hand to slip through. "Now give me my clothes."

He sighed but did as I asked. As I was dressing, I refused to look in the mirror. When I stepped outside, I refused to look at him.

"Reese, please." Chris rested his hands on my shoulders. I didn't have the energy to shake him off. "We have to talk?"

"About what? The baby we're not having?"

He winced. "Clarisse-"

"What? That's all there is to talk about. I was pregnant, now I'm not. End of discussion." I started for the stairs. "I have a schedule to get back to."

"You're staying here." His arms wrapped tightly around my waist. "Chiron's orders. It'll be at least a week until the bleeding and cramps completely stop, and until then, you have to relax."

"I'm cabin leader! I can't take a week off."

"I'll talk to Mark, tell him you had an emergency. He can handle your siblings." His fingers entwined tightly with mine. "But you need to worry about you."

"This is fricking stupid," I growled.

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes. Yes, I will laze around for the next seven days when there is absolutely nothing wrong with me."

"Good." He kissed my cheek. "I have to go to dinner. What do you want me to bring you back?"

"Nothing." After a moment, I added more quietly, "Give my whole plate to the gods. As an offering."

As though they hadn't already taken enough.

Chris nodded and kissed me again, then offered his arm. Even though I didn't need it, I allowed him to help me downstairs and toward a back room.

"I'll be back right after dinner," he promised as I sat down on the couch. Brushing hair from my eyes, he tenderly tucked the blanket around me. "I'll see you."

"Bye."

No sooner had he left did Chiron come in. "Hello, my dear."

"Hi."

"Are you feeling better?"

"I'm fine."

"You can talk to me, Clarisse."

"I know. But I don't want to talk. I'm fine, really." I rolled over and buried my face in a pillow. "Really, I am. I'm just tired, okay?"

"Okay." He didn't sound convinced, but he didn't press the issue. "Mr. D is handling dinner tonight, so I'll be here if you need me."

"Thanks."

Even after the clop-clop-clop told me he was gone, I stayed with my face pressed against the pillow. The pattern twisted and danced before my eyes; forms began to appear. Bottles. Teddy bears. Rattles. Skull and crossbones. Merging and colliding, disappearing and reappearing, and no matter how much I blinked, they wouldn't stop.

"Clarisse?"

I turned, just enough to get a glimpse of my boyfriend. "You're back early."

"I ate quickly." He took a seat on the edge. "How are you?"

"Fine." I inched over a little. "You can lay down, you know."

He obeyed, body pressed close to mine, head on my shoulder. "You really don't want to talk, do you?"

"No."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Just...just stay with me."

"Of course," he murmured.

We sat in silence for the longest time, until exhaustion finally took its toll and I fell asleep. In my dream, there were streaks of pink and blue, quiet giggles. All too soon, the colors twisted into red and dripped into a puddle; the giggles turned to screams.

I awoke with my heart in my throat and shudders running through my body. A glance at Chris confirmed he was still asleep, so I untangled myself from him and snuck outside to sit on the steps. Tilting my head, I stared at the night sky. There were stars all over, glimmering and shining, but all I could see was black.

"Is this because I was so mean?" I asked quietly. "Because I was the bully? Or because I didn't want my cabin fighting in the war?" My voice hitched. "Is this punishment? Or are you just bored up there? Or, or is this because of all the times I complained about my students? Because I didn't mean it." Tears blurred my vision. "I don't hate them. I, I even kind of like them. They're...they're good kids. And they look up to me; they like me. I'm okay with them. Damn it, I'm good with them." I rested my head on my knees, tried to swallow back the pain, but there was too much, and I couldn't keep myself from crying.

Strong arms wrapped around me. "It's okay, Clarisse," Chris murmured.

"No, it's not," I protested weakly. "I'm sorry, Chris. I'm so sorry."

"What?"

"It's my fault; this is my fault."

"This is not your fault," he insisted. "You didn't cause this to happen."

"I did! I must have!"

He grip tightened. "No, you didn't. You did nothing wrong."

"I didn't even know I was pregnant; how could I not know?"

"You had no symptoms. You don't look pregnant. What, were you supposed to be psychic?"

"I should have known there was a baby inside of me! And I didn't, so I lost him!"

I don't know why I said him, but it felt right.

"Clarisse, you can't believe that. This isn't because of divine intervention, or karma, or anything like that. It just happened. This is not your fault."

"We would have had a baby together," I whispered. "And now we're not. So who's fault is it?"

"No one's."

"Then why does it feel like it's mine?"

He didn't respond, just hugged me to his chest while I cried, mourning what I didn't even I know I wanted until it was too late.