TWENTY

MISTY BLUE

Flower

(Contains an act of self-harm, negative self-talk, and miscarriage)

I knew Akchiro would be gone when I woke. Knew it even as I gave myself the indulgence of his arms around me. I'm not surprised. Not really.

The whole reason he was even here being with me was for another Takeda heir and my dumbass couldn't even do that right.

When we got in bed and he was holding me, I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I was so scared I'd crumble after putting up a good front. Because if anyone can see through me it's the Japanese billionaire, I gave my heart to. He has since the moment we met.

Akchiro is never one to hide his disappointment or disdain. My reasoning of him not being here this morning is obvious. He is giving me a chance to save face. He needn't bother. I can't brave my way through this. I feel shattered. I know I should feel relieved. Up until a few weeks ago the possibility of me having another child with him was the last thing I wanted to do.

Wiping my stinging nose, I try to focus on something other than how that early dread somehow turned to hope. I remember my horror when I saw my IUD placed on the table. How he allowed me to see Asa only if I complied. How things slowly got better and better until last night happened and I felt like his wife again.

I trusted him in such a primal way, and he took care of me. Despite what we took part in, I never for one moment felt exposed or disrespected. I felt worshiped. Cherished.

It's so bizarre that now that I have seen the absolute worst of him. What he is truly capable of — hunting, kidnapping, extortion, and that's just the top of a very long list; that I now feel safer with him. Because of all the things he's capable of the one thing that never changed is how he will move heaven and earth for me.

How could he still love me? He said the words — "Aishiteru yo"

You don't deserve them . "Yes, I do." I affirm to myself despite my harmful self-talk. I pinch my bottom lip between my thumb and two fingers as I muse. "I do. I deserve good things. I've made mistakes. He has too. We will work it out." I kick the covers back. That was before you didn't give him another Takeda heir. I shove that thought away and a sick feeling worms its way through my heart. I need to talk to him.

There is whirl of the helicopters I barely notice as I hurry to dress. Probably the other men leaving with my friends. I still need to figure out how to get them free before they experience too much more trauma.

Even if I were to swear to Akchiro that Evangelina and Bridget had nothing to do with me leaving; which they didn't I don't think Ryu and Takashi will give them up.

Prosper, who actually did help me, Akchiro won't lift a finger to help her. Other than me, he probably blames her. Tsuyoshi would go to war for the insult. But I have to try, I resolve stepping into some pink pants and a pink palazzo blouse that crisscross in the front.

Twisting the knob I stop realizing it will be lock but surprise makes me gasps when it opens. I'm not locked in.

My heart skips to a happy beat knowing he would never forget. He let it stay unlocked. The staff no longer averts their gazes, but a few give me tentative smiles. I can see the Tokyo skyline in the distance. We must have gotten here over night.

Everything is so different this morning. I don't let myself believe it.

My tummy cramps but not because of my cycle as I make my way to Akchiro's office. I know the answers I need can only come from him.

If he's in there he knows I'm on my way, I surmise so I don't bother knocking when I reach the door.

I stop short when I see Dr. Ito and the Aussie chick, Miranda in his office. Dr. Ito is sitting in the seating area where there is a sofa a coffee table and two chairs arranged. Miranda is in a long flowing very upscale maxi halter dress has her back exposed.

"Mrs. Takeda," Dr. Ito stands and bows which I return. Miranda flicks me a glance as if I'm bothering her but so insignificant she can't be bother to give me even the most basic of greetings.

I look around the room in expectation.

"Mr. Takeda is not here," Dr. Ito says nervously. Clasping and unclasping her hands in front of her.

"Well, I'll come back later and talk to him." I smile at the woman and turn.

"He's not coming back." The Aussie gives me an oh honey , fake sad smile.

Ignoring her, I look to Dr. Ito. "Well, as to that?—"

"She's been fired, and I've been reassigned." Miranda flips her now long, unbound hair over her shoulder and sits in the one of the chairs crossing one long leg over the other. "It seems everything hinged on you getting pregnant and since that didn't happen. Things can go the way they should have all along."

Acid burns my throat. Did everyone know?

"I know we all wished for better news Mrs. Takeda." Dr. Ito tries to reassure me.

My head bobs like a bobble head. "What's going on?" I ask the doctor. There is something she's not saying.

"It not like we can't try again." It takes all my lagging self worth to even say the words. But does he want to? Doubt whispers insideously

"Hmm…" The aussie taps her cheek. "See? Does he want to with you though? I had doc here show him what a fecund womb I have compared to your ultra-fragile one. Two miscarriages?" She tsks like she's reading my mind.

I flinch. My heart thuds. I couldn't have been pregnant.

"You need to be quiet," The doctor snaps. "This is doctor-patient confidentiality."

"Wait." I hold up a trembling hand. "Are you saying I was pregnant? That I'm miscarrying."

"It was very early. I only tested your blood to confirm after Mr. Takeda informed me that your cycle started. She reaches for my hand, but I pull it back to my quivering tummy. I'm losing my baby. That's why that first passing of blood was so much.

My hear hurts. I feel like I'm about to pass out. I move around until I'm sitting in Akchiro's chair behind his desk. It smells like him. Like I'm safe as I stare at the impassive face of the doctor and the giddy triumph of a mere servant.

"Why didn't you come let me know?" Dreading the answer before the question is even out of my mouth.

"Mr. Takeda didn't want you to be upset about this. He said the last miscarriage was very hard on you." I feel myself absently nodding. Hard? I nearly died but he wasn't there, and it took a long time for him to forgive me for keeping that secret from him.

I see several neat envelopes. One has Dr. Ito's severance, bonus and letter of recommendation and some of the other staff.

I pick up the one that has Miranda's name opening it. It has her bonus and tips. Then there is a lease for an apartment at Midtown. My heart drops, that's where he kept his mistresses before he met me. And least I thought she was lying there is a medical report inside but not only is about her fertility— it has a clean STD screening, her monthly allowance for food and clothing.

"He says he is giving you this yacht, it like the most expensive one in the world, right?"

"Is that what he said?" I ask the doctor feeling like all kinds of an idiot. Was this his revenge to kidnap me, bring me to my lowest, to make me think he loved me again only to ride out with someone the complete opposite of me?

Would he be that cruel? Yes. Would he plan his revenge to this degree to break me? Abso-fucking-lutely. Well played Mr. Takeda. You got me, I fell for it. He put the I love you cherry on top like a master chef.

There is a soft knock on the door, and the steward steps in. "You transport is here. Dr. Ito, Ms. Miranda."

Both women move to leave. I hand them each their packages. I give them a wry smile. "Feminism at it's finest." Faces bloom with shame as they leave.

"Hey," I look up to the bright smiling face of the girl who will soon know my husband as well as me. "I left something for you in the toilet roll." She says the last part with a whisper and wink.

I'm proud of the way I manage to keep it together until I make it back to my state room. It's not what she said, like the most in important things in the Japanese language she left the most important things unsaid. And Akchiro, despite his protestations yesterday his actions speak louder than what he said. He said, why would he need her while he has me. He never said what happens when he no longer does. The doctor didn't say we could try again. She must have advised that we don't try.

I know how important securing the Takeda Legacy is to him but to cast me aside for it? Maybe it didn't matter until the Aussie girl presented the perfect opportunity. Wow. That dirty motherfucker.

I sit down on the edge of the bed as wave after wave of disappointment crashes down on me. Is he going to take Asa? Jumping up. I rush to the door of the cabin. It's still unlocked. Why wouldn't it be? He's giving it to me, his new lover said.

Part of me recoils at the thought. He would never do this. I tell myself rushing down the corridor. This is not his way and never with me. He's cruel, even callus to those who've wrong him. He kidnapped and held his cousin away from her brothers for years. He'd do anything and who has done more to hurt and shame him than me? He'd want to see my face when he did it like when I woke. He likes his retribution up close. Maybe he can no longer be bothered.

"Stop it, Flower. You're spiraling." I snap to myself knowing if I rush in and Asa sees me like this he will get upset. He's so in tune to my emotions.

"Okay," I say, taking several deep breaths, clearing my mind and resetting my heart.

I pull the door open— to an empty room. Everything making up my son's playroom has been wiped to a clean slate. And ordinary suite. No toddler play mats, no life size stuff animals, learning materials. All of his must haves are gone. I walk through hoping I'm wrong. When I get to my son's actual bedroom, I take in the massive bed replacing where his smaller toddler bed was just yesterday.

My throat closes as I walk over to his closets and step inside them, every shelf is empty. I walk inside and — nothing.

Falling to the floor, my heart feeling like my six-foot-two husband is standing on my chest.

Through a blur of hot tears, I see a hint of blue stripes. Grabbing the soft material, I bring it to my face. "Asa." Sobbing, I hold it to my face. I can barely smell just a hint of his baby one scent.

I don't know how long I sit crumbled on the floor. Feeling lost, I don't know what to do.

I get it now. How he must have felt when he woke up in his own filth after I left him weak and disoriented from the drugs I gave him not knowing where we were.

Callous? Cruel? All this time I thought I was the better person. I sashayed around our life acting like I was better than him because the lengths Akchiro made no apologies about going to keep his family safe — keeping me and Asa safe, only to hurt and abandon him. I see I'm not better than the monster I married. We are both monsters. The only difference until this moment he never hurt what he claimed he loved. I completely devastated him. Out of what he must have felt was the blue. I never complained. I never told him to stop. When I did find out I didn't demand he stop. I didn't fight for us. I ran.

When I finally decided to fight for us, I quickly made head way. I could kick myself for all the mistakes I've made.

Now, I've become a burden. Maybe he still loves me but can't find his way to forgiveness. Now coupled with my defectiveness… he can't justify putting more of an effort.

Picking myself up off the floor, I walk slowly to the door. Carefully avoiding the concerned looks on the faces of the substantially reduced crew, I go to back to my state room.

He's not coming back. He never even told me when he left the ship previously, so why would he when he's plotted my dismissal sfrom his life? The disrespect of his actions is nothing compared to the sorrow in my heart at losing my son.

I lock the door so that I'm not disturbed. Hearing the click, I step out of my shoes not bothering to put them away. The floor in the entrance is cold. It feels like spikes beneath my bare soles. Stepping onto the carpet the cold fades but the texture I once marveled at being so soft and luxurious only feels irritating and abrasive.

My tread is loud and plodding as I walk to the bathroom door. It closes a soft snick that sounds in my ears like a starter pistol at the races. I don't bother locking it. He not coming back. He took my son and he's not coming back.

Sitting on the toilet, I release the pressure from my bladder I didn't realize until now I was feeling.

My entire body feels like an over filled balloon or a pressure cooker that doesn't have a relief valve. Everything hurts. There is a constant expanding in my chest. I know if I don't release the pressure I'm going to pass out. Every beat of my heart is like an explosion in my ears, a sledgehammer to my chest. My lungs aren't moving. I see dots in my vision. My ears feel like they are waterlogged and stuffed with cotton, the pressure is boarding on a migraine like pain. I try to swallow back the acid but retch right there between my legs. It's never been like this. Fumbling with the toilet roll I snatch it off the spool. Squeezing it, a sparkle of stainless steel catches my eye.

My heart speeds up. I take my first real breath of the day. I upturn the tube. The cold metal of the straight-razor's blade falls like a cold lover in my palm.

Getting up, I take a towel and cover my retch, not bothering to do anything more not when I have much more important things to do. Like breathe.

I pour alcohol in my rinse cup. I get a soft white bath sheet folding it over.

Undressing completely, I put the towel down sitting in my favorite corner.

I count the pins in my thigh. Thirty.

One by one I take them out I drop them into the liquid. Watching as the water gradually turns pink. It's like with every slide against my flesh as they come out a little of the pressure on my chest is released.

Knowing the real release is yet to come makes anticipation spiral through my body. My fingers shake, making me clumsy with excitement. The pain of the removal is exquisite. It's just. What I deserve. I need this.

My thigh is a bloody mess by the time I pull out the last pin. The alcohol filled cup is entirely red. I take the bottle of alcohol and squirt it on my thigh watching the blood run onto the white towel in fascination. I do it a few times just to enjoy the sting imagining all thirty pinpricks releasing the pain and rage of my grief. Another dead baby, I'm two for one. Useless.

Sane, confident Flower would never allow that thought but I haven't been her for a while, I don't know how to get her back. I tried to be everything he wanted and he is still bored of me in the end. Doesn't even think I'm worthy of the child we made together.

Bending, I blow on it. I'm going to have to start on the other thigh. I'll call the in-house medic when I'm done to get some bandages when I'm done. It's freeing not having the extra pressure of trying to hide anything from Akchiro.

That's one good thing about his leaving. I have the freedom to do what I want without the worry of his disappointment or judgement.

Now, finally I get to the get to the good part. I look at the canvas of my body. It's been so long since I could do whatever I wanted. I don't have to hide.

Squeezing alcohol over the blade I wave it let it air dry. I place it on my uninjured thigh. As I prep the area between my breasts.

This is where it hurts the most. Before my skin dries. I draw a line down the center of my chest between my breasts. In the millisecond that I see the blood bloom there, coupled with the pinprick of delicious pain, I feel like the pressure valve in my chest has been released. Tears of relief spill down my face as I take long cleansing breaths. My chest rises and falls like I've escaped a sarcophagus.

Slicing matching lines on the inner creases of my twin mounds, I watch the blood racing down then pooling on the little dip of my tummy filling my belly button to overflowing. I think it's fitting. Hoping with the loss of blood some of my love for Akchiro leaves with it.

I was never good enough for him. I knew he was out of my league the moment I got in that limo the first night. I so selfish I took everything he gave me and never told him my history. In the back of my mind the whole time I waited for it to fall apart. It was almost a relief when it did. He doesn't even think I'm worthy to Asa's mom even though I did my best— let alone his wife. He didn't even give me a chance to say goodbye. All that red string of fate bullshit was just that —bull shit. He never meant any of it.

It would be so easy to make the line vertical lines along my veins. I don't want to die. I just want the pain to stop.

I make four lines on the clean, prepped uninjured thigh to signify the years I spent loving a man who couldn't love me back. At least this version of Flower. What would he think of her? Pathetic. He thought he was getting a complete person he had no idea how broken I am. He'd hate this. Hate me. He was right to take Asa.

Making neat circles around the areolas that will never feed another Takeda heir, the piercing pain is sharp but is nothing compared to the blow of the news I experienced earlier.

Every crease and fold of my body is part of my macabre masterpiece. I haven't gone to work on myself like this in more than a decade. Inside my elbows. The gap of my thighs, behind my knees between my toes and the tips of nail beds and toes. Blood slips from me in thin trails.

The towel is bloodied stained crimson. I look at it with a certain pride that I am in control of it all. I can stop anytime I want. I will have to take it to the incinerator myself or pack it deep in plastic, so no one will see. Then maybe not since the whole ship knows I miscarried. I can easy cover with that.

Every mark is superficial. I'll barely be able to see them or feel them in a few days. Then I can touch them to reassure myself that I suffered the worst possible thing to happen other than actually losing my husband and child to heaven and I still survived. I will thrive in this.

The fight will be arduous, but I will prevail. I can see that now. Before I couldn't see past the pain.

Euphoria cascades over me. The cool air lights upon my skin. Resting my head back my beathing becomes easy now. It's like the afterglow of sex. Sated and replete, my body slumps back. I'm no different than someone overdosing only this is my drug. I'm powerless over my life at the moment it but at the same time I feel strong. I can control every movement of the blade. I say how deep I go. No one but me. I don't crumble at the sight of the blood. My head lolls and my eyes drift close, not from blood loss despite the mess I've not lost even a half of a cup.

"Flower."

I still. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no….

He's not supposed to be here. I didn't lock the bathroom door . Because he's not supposed to fucking be here. She set me up .

"Flower," his voice sounds alarmed. Hearing him rushing over to me I slowly turn my head to face him.

His face is a sea on anguish and fear as he crashes to his knees before me. With hands gentler than I've ever felt before her cups my face searching it. "What happened to you? Who did this to you?"

I can't make the words come out. Too many thoughts blast through my mind at once.

"I-I—" I bite my lip until it bleeds.

"Flower," he shakes me a little, his face contorting. "Baby," he soothes, breaking me further. My soul is pulverized seeing his reaction. "Tell, me what happened. Who did this to you?"

I reach for his wrist. Cupping it. Holding the razor between two digits.

"I did." I wait. I've seen it before from my parents, FADE, Ghadi and Willow. The reason they watched me so carefully when I lost our first baby. Why they come to visit and check on me all the time. The hypervigilance that is never ending. The secret I swore them all to keep. One they kept to give me a chance at happeness, because they saw how much he loved me, how good he was for me. They never understood why I never told him the truth but I do.

I don't turn from it. This time I don't run.

I watch as his concern and fear of what someone may have done to me fade and the realization settles. The terror of me being attacked changes when he realizes it's me causing the harm. Then I see what I knew I would.

Horror.