Bleeding Through

Note: All characters in Bleeding Through belong to me. The events that take place in this story are fictional and any similarities to people, alive or dead is coincidental.

Bleeding Through

The loud melodies of Chopin grated on Kathy's ears while her husband beat out his frustrations on the piano down the hall. She wiped an errant tear from her eye, and flicked her gaze back towards the picture in her hand. A tiny representation of her unborn child in black and white lay within. She looked through the large bay window at the radiant white that blanketed the world outside their lonely living room. Another crescendo burst forth, and Kathy dropped the photo to clasp her hands over her ears.          
         
“Stop it! Just stop it, Michael!” She shouted, and fled out the back door into the bitter cold, forgetting her coat in her haste to escape the pain.
         
She ran down the garden path, ignoring the harsh February wind that assaulted her exposed skin. Kathy knelt down onto the fresh snow. Chestnut strands of hair fell into her face when she bent forward, her hands over her eyes. She began to rock back and forth to the steady rhythm of the piano floating through the open door. She whimpered, unable to escape her husband's pain.

Sitting up, she realized she had stopped in front of her beloved rose bushes. She tore the coverings off, tossing them carelessly aside. Tears froze to the sides of her face. Wailing, Kathy ignored the sting of the thorns, and pulled on one of the bushes itself. Blood dotted the clean snow below and she stared at it in fascination. She let the uprooted bush drop, and gaped at her pierced palms.
         
She whispered, “Can you find it in yourself to forgive me, Michael? Can you ever forgive me for losing our baby girl?”
         
She stared up towards the weak, winter sun. This was to be her first Minnesotan winter. They had both grown tired of the heat in Georgia, choosing to move north to Duluth. Kathy remembered the day Mike had suggested it. He had been excited about the change in scenery. He had said with a baby on the way that everything should be fresh. At first, she had been eager to experience her first true winter, but it would only remind her of her loss from now on.
         
Kathy assaulted the next bush, tugging on it by its stalk. It snapped in her hand, cutting further into her palms. She tossed it aside and clutched her head before folding her tiny body into a tight ball.
         
“Why did I insist on taking a walk that day? I wouldn't have slipped otherwise.”
         
She sat up, snow clinging to her blue sweater. She tugged on a third bush, the thorns biting further into her battered palms. Frantic trills drifted out into the frozen garden.
         
Yanking hard, Kathy shouted, “Damn it! Will you stop beating on that damn piano already!”
         
Once the bush was free, she beat it into the ground, frozen dirt flinging from the roots to sully the white snow. Blood droplets mixed with the black earth. Kathy tossed it aside and pulled on her remaining rose bush: her favorite yellow tea-cup. She strained against the hardened earth when arms suddenly encircled her waist. She let go of the large bush, jabbing an elbow backwards. A grunt reached her ears, although the arms didn't release.
         
“Let me go!”
         
“Not until you explain why you're out here destroying your rose garden,” Mike's deep baritone whispered into her ear. “What are you doing out here without a coat, Kat?”
         
She squirmed out of his grip, glaring at him. She clenched her hands into fists, sticky blood squeezing between her knuckles. “Go back to your damn piano and leave me alone.”
         
“Come back inside, Kat. Please. You could get sick.” Mike rubbed his hands on the green sleeves of his sweater. His breath crystallized in the air as he spoke. He said, his concerned voice firm, “I’m not going back inside until you do.”
         
Kathy dug her fingernails deep into her wounded palms. Ignoring the sting of pain, she shook a fist at Mike, and shouted, “No! Just go away, leave me alone, damn it. Your piano must be lonely. It’s the longest you’ve been away from it all week!”
         
“God damn it, Kat! Look at what you did to your hands.” A frown crossed his pale face and dark bangs fell into his green eyes. Mike reached a hand out to grab one of hers.
         
She flinched away from him, and shouted, “Like you care! As if you give a damn! Being a pianist  obviously means a lot more to you than I do.”
         
Silence settled over them as snow started to lightly fall. The flakes swirled in the wind before they landed, sticking to the frozen earth. Tree branches swayed and Kathy shivered, hugging herself for warmth. The frigid wind howled and snow stung her face as she stared at the ground.
         
Mike closed the gap between them and gripped one of her hands, forcing the palm open. He ran a finger across the cuts, blood coating the tip of it. “Jesus Christ, Kat. Of course I care. What the hell made you come out here and rip your roses out? It's absolutely freezing out here.”
         
She jerked her hand away and she squinted when snow stuck to her eyelashes. She charged, beating her fists against his broad shoulders. Blood trickled out from her knuckles to drip on Mike's sweater. “No you don't! You don't give a damn about me! All you care about is your piano! Why don't you just leave me alone and play that god damned Chopin song again?”
         
“Bullshit! What the fuck? Kat, I care about you. You're my wife.” He grabbed her wrists, preventing her from beating his chest. “What makes you think I don't care?”
         
Kathy strained against his strong grip. She glared at him and shouted, “Let me go! No you don't! You don't care! You won't leave that damn room. I hear you late at night. You don't sleep. You haven't come to bed. You won't talk to me. What am I supposed to think when all you do is play that damn song over and over?”
         
Mike let go and backed away. He clenched his hands to his sides and glared at the ground, a frown resting on his lips. He said, “Maybe I haven't slept because all I can see when I close my eyes is you on the ground. All I can see is you falling and I know I could have stopped it.”
         
“Don't you do this to me, you bastard. Don't you blame yourself for losing our girl.” She squeezed her nails deep into her palms, blood spotting the snow beneath her feet. “I won't let you take responsibility for my mistake.”
         
“You asked me to go on your walk with you. We were supposed to go together, but I stayed inside, practicing Chopin for the upcoming recital instead.” He paused, looking down. He sighed, and said, his voice a mere whisper, “My big break as a concert pianist was more important than taking a walk in the garden with my pregnant wife. What kind of husband does that make me?” Mike stepped closer, pulling her against him. “Damn it, Kat. It's not your fault. It's mine. You got that?”
         
“Let me go! Just leave me alone!” When Mike tightened his hold on her, Kathy caved in and slumped against his shoulder, sobbing. “Why! Why us? What did we do to deserve this?” She gripped his sweater in her injured hands.
         
Mike pulled her closer, providing the warmth and security that she desperately needed. He rested his chin atop her head. “I don't know.  It's not your fault.”
         
Kathy shivered against him. “Yes it is. It has to be. I could have stayed inside. I didn't need to go out to see the snow.”
         
“Damn it.  I already told you, don't blame yourself.” Mike hugged her closer. “It's not your fault, it's mine and we both know it. I don't ever want to hear you blame yourself again.”
         
She sobbed, burying her face into his shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him, her palms leaving small smears of blood on his sweater. Kathy's teeth chattered as the cold air numbed her body. Mike pulled away, grasping one of her injured hands into his. She didn't resist as he tugged on her, pulling her towards the house. The heat struck her as they entered and she stopped shivering. Kathy blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit hallway.
         
Coming to her senses, she cried out, “Let me go!”
         
Mike ignored her plea and dragged her to the kitchen. He pushed her into a chair, opposite the stove. Mike opened a cupboard, pulling out bandages and set them down onto the table. His bangs fell into his face, hiding his eyes from her. A frown rested on his lips while he counted out square gauze bandages. Mike looked up, his eyes connecting with hers.
         
“Wash your hands, Kat.”
         
She stood, crossing to the sink that overlooked the garden. She saw the black dirt sullying the crisp, white snow. The bushes she had uprooted lay strewn about. Turning on the faucet, Kathy placed her abused palms under the warm water and watched in a trance as it swirled pink down the drain. She squirted some soap onto her palms, the foam turning a bright red. While she rinsed, she saw that the gashes on her palms were deep and that fresh blood bubbled to the surface once she removed them from the rushing water.
         
Kathy glanced over her shoulder, noticing that Mike stared at her. His eyes were narrowed and his frown increased. He joined her by the sink, taking one hand into his.
         
He whispered, “Jesus, Kat.” He pulled her back towards the table, pointing towards a chair. “Sit down, and put your hands on the table, palm side up.”
         
She did as told, staring at her lacerated palms in fascination. She winced when she felt him apply peroxide. He gently dabbed at one palm with a cotton ball before placing gauze to it. He wrapped tape around her hand, securing it.
         
Kathy whispered, “You don't have to do this. I can take care of it myself.”
         
Mike snorted, lifting his gaze to meet hers. He took the other hand into his, following the same procedure. Once both palms were cleaned and dressed, he took her hands into his, running his thumbs over the bandages. “You never did answer my question. Why were you ripping your roses out? Why did you go out at all?”
         
She looked around the kitchen, at the yellow rose wallpaper and the green trim. Some pans peeked out of the cherry wood cabinets. Kathy glanced back at her husband, the worry evident in his eyes. She bowed her head, glancing at the white table cloth, and sighed.
         
“I don't know, Michael.”
         
“There had to be a reason.” He gently squeezed her hand. “Come on, please talk to me.”
         
“I couldn't take it anymore. That song. I had to get away.” She raised her head and looked into his concerned eyes. “I—I wanted to wait until I was a couple more months along, to tell you this.” Kathy looked away, out to the demolished garden. “Rose. I wanted to name our baby girl Rose.”
         
Mike kissed her forehead and pulled her into an embrace. She leaned against him, resting her cheek on his shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him, her eyes falling closed while tears slowly fell down her cheeks. Mike rubbed her back, gently rocking her.
         
“I'm so sorry, Kat.”
         
Kathy lifted her head, looking into his eyes. Unshed tears shimmered in them. She wiped a tear away. “For what. I told you not to take responsibility for my mistake.”
         
“I'm sorry that I haven't been there. I have been such an asshole lately.”
         
She hugged him, leaning her head onto his shoulder. “No. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten so mad.”
         
Mike took a deep breath, his hand running through her hair. He sighed. A soft laugh reverberated in Kathy's ears. Mike said, “No, Kat, you're right. I overplayed that damn song.”
         
She smiled, snuggling closer to him. “I tried to tell you that.”
         
Silence filled the kitchen and Kathy closed her eyes in contentment. She focused on the strong body holding her, finally feeling reassured. When she opened her eyes, she could see her destroyed bushes through the window. She asked, “Can I ask you something? Is it alright if we buy new rose bushes this spring?”
         
He ran his fingers through her hair, tucking a few strands behind her ear. “Only if you let me help pick the colors out.”
         
Kathy lifted her head off his shoulder, smiling. A soft smile crossed his face. She kissed him before resting her forehead against his. “Deal.”