A Nightmare Deferred

Somewhere in the dark, Michael crawled on his hands and knees. It pressed around him, threatening to break him. A dark secret grew within him and was held in by the tape on his mouth. His wrists and feet were bound and no amount of love could free them. So, he half-dragged, half-wriggled his way forward on the stone floor. Skin and fabric abraded off on the rough surface. He wavered between panic and calm. He could taste blood and bile in his throat. Don't panic or you'll choke, he told himself. During the swell of panic, it was hard to keep his heart from bursting out of his chest. He continued edging forward. He tried not to drag his abdomen close to the floor. Trying does not always equal success. The front of his shirt was torn, as well. The passage seemed to be getting tighter and the light seemed to be winking out ahead. His secret weighed him down heavily, made it hard to move, to think, to breathe. As he felt exhaustion overtake him, his slowed to nothing. His belly throbbed and reminded him of what he was trying to hide. Drool threatened to choke him as the gag firmly kept all saliva and bile in. He shook from exertion. Can't stop now. He managed a few more inches forward. The pain inside got worse. He stopped when it got bad. Then continued to struggle on. I don't think I'm going to make it. The pain was getting more penetrating. I have to make it. A few more inches forward. Oh, sweet goddess, it's getting worse. The urge to scream turns into nothing more than helpless choking. Some of the excess fluid runs out his nose. A sour taste is added to the blood, saliva, and bile. He blows the excess out his nose and prays he doesn't drown. The slickness on the floor aids slightly in his attempts to move. A trickle of fluid down his leg and the hard pain in his abdomen stop him again. The pain is debilitating now. He can't move. He can't scream. He can't breathe. His hands press the curve of his belly as it hardens from strain. The shaft is now too tight for him to turn. Help me! Somebody help meeeee! His mind screams as his body feels as if it's being ripped in two.

Michael snaps bolt upright in bed, sheened in sweat. He can feel his heart pounding. His wife stirs next to him. “Is something wrong, honey?”

He catches his breath and his heart finally slows. He wipes his sweat-drenched face. “I... I must have had a nightmare.”

He turned and lovingly rubbed his wife's pregnant belly. “I didn't mean to disturb you, Margaret. Whatever it was, doesn't seem to be important enough for me to remember it.”