Work Text:
The mirror was a horrifying thing. She'd look in and it'd stare back.
Her stomach was a particular point of focus. It ached—it screamed for attention. It was his fault it was so horrible, yet she still blamed herself. One kick, then another, then the nagging feeling of a man flayed into a piece of bacon in need.
She'd take responsibility when no one else would. She was weak and uncomfortable with the sounds, but she'd power through this time.
Medical was lonely and desolate. He sat there, choking in pain.
It was okay.
She'd take responsibility this time.