Shocked and Shattered Read online

  As he moves in and out with increasing speed, Sterling forgets about my needs, so I massage my clit until I feel my release. When Sterling thrusts harder, I work my clit harder and we come undone together. My orgasm is toe curling and just what I needed.

  I now pronounce you husband and wife. Consummating our vows is the finale.

  CHAPTER 2 – Our Honeymoon

  God, I better not be pregnant. Why the hell do I feel so god damn ill?

  We arrive in beautiful Bora Bora on Wednesday. It’s been four long days since our wedding, and I saw my local doctor who told me it appeared to be a stomach bug, and it would be gone after three days. Well, he was wrong.

  I am in awe of our beautiful cabin that faces the beach; the views of the ocean are sensational. Inside is very modern, and the architectural design is inspirational.

  Sterling carries his suitcase and carry-on from the cab, leaving me to carry my two heavy bags. I can’t even remember what I packed, I’ve been so sick. I drag my Guess suitcase and carry-on into our room and collapse onto the bed, feeling lethargic.

  “Let’s hit the beach, Crystal,” Sterling calls out from the double size bathroom. Is it because he is a man, or is he totally unobservant to how sick I’ve been?

  I somehow manage to muster up some energy. “Give me ten minutes to get ready.” I swallow down some pain meds the doctor gave me and have a quick shower, hoping it will help. I dress in my hot pink and yellow bikini, throwing my white kaftan over the top, and slip on my flip flops, sun cream, and my wide brimmed black hat.

  I fake a smile. “Okay, I’m ready,” I tell him as I enter the living area, where he is watching cricket on the flat screen.

  “Awesome,” he answers, and jumps to his feet with a towel already in hand.

  The walk to the beach has me shaking. It’s less than five meters, and I still feel exhausted. I spread my towel and almost collapse. Damn, this bug is throwing me for a six.

  Sterling drops his towel and runs out into the turquoise ocean. I can just imagine the refreshing water, how cool and invigorating it must feel on his skin. I close my eyes and doze off without even realising.

  When I open my eyes, I can’t see Sterling anywhere. I sit up and spot him still in the water. Who the hell are those two girls he is talking to?

  I wave my hand, hoping to get his attention. He sees me and makes his way back in, looking totally unfazed.

  “Who were the girls you were talking to?” I question him, feeling pissed off.

  “Oh, they were asking if I knew of any good restaurants in the area,” he replies, like he’d been practicing.

  “I’m here, practically dying on the sand, and you are chatting up women on our honeymoon, Sterling. How do you think that makes me feel?” I’m not usually so honest, but it hurts.

  “You are overreacting, Crystal, that’s all. I’m not going to ignore people.”

  I’m lost for words, with no idea what else to say.

  After an hours sleep when we get back, I manage to dress up, take some stronger pain relief meds, and have a meal in the restaurant with Sterling. Conversation is minimal.

  “So, what’s new at work?” I question him. He is being stubborn and not talking.

  “Nothing is new. Just dealing with a couple interns that are clueless,” he replies, rolling his eyes and downing his third beer.

  When we arrive back to our cabin, I head for the lounge, feeling crappy again.

  “I’m just going to the bar for a few drinks, Crys. You will be all right for an hour won’t you?” he asks me.

  I’m a little gutted, but not surprised. He is not the type to sit inside and watch DVDs. He is still the party type, quite often leaving me at home when he goes to bars or clubs, but he has never given me any reason not to trust him. I’ve known the guy since junior year.

  “Yep. I’ll just be here on the couch, dying,” I whine. I guess I don’t know any different, but is it normal for your new husband to leave you while you are extremely sick on your honeymoon?

  “Oh, Crystal, don’t be so dramatic. It’s probably the stomach flu. You will be right tomorrow,” he states. He rubs my head, obviously to avoid my germs, and heads out the door.

  Tears well up in my eyes. Some honeymoon this is turning out to be. Why do I have this kind of luck?

  I hear my phone beep. Thinking it might be Sterling, I grab it hastily off the lounge.

  Hannah: I don’t want all the details, but hope you are doing the naked hokey pokey right now.

  I giggle at my besties text. She is never backward at coming forward.

  Me: I wish. I’m still sick with this virus…on my freaking honeymoon.

  Hannah: Fuck, that sux! Sterling better be looking after you.

  I don’t know how to reply. She will lose it if I say he went to the bar.

  Hannah has been telling me ever since we got engaged that I can do better; that I deserve someone who will dote on me, be romantic, and treat me like a princess. Sterling doesn’t do any of those things. He has a lot of money, so he will buy me things, beautiful things. He tells me he loves me, but it sounds more like it’s out of habit, not because he wants to say it. But, should I really be ungrateful?

  Hannah: Crystal? Where is Sterling?

  Me: He will be back any minute.

  Hannah: Where did he go?

  Me: Just downstairs.

  Hannah: Tell me he is getting you supplies.

  Me: Not quite…

  Hannah: That fucking asswipe is at the bar isn’t he?

  Me: Just for one drink, Han.

  Hannah: It’s always the same with him, Crys. You just got married four days ago, and he should not be leaving you to go drink with random strangers. He should not be leaving you period. This is a low act, even from Sterling. Can’t you see that?

  Me: Why should he miss out because I’m sick?

  Hannah: Because he is your fucking husband! For better or worse, till death do you part, remember?

  Me: It’s just the stomach flu.

  Hannah: Yeah, this time, but if you can’t rely on him now, it’s only going to get worse.

  Me: I’m going to lie down for a bit, Han. Talk later. xx

  I end the conversation feeling somber. Everything she says is true. He is a lousy husband, and has been a lousy boyfriend for the past nine years. But at least I have a husband and a partner, which beats being alone forever.

  But you are alone right now, Crystal.

  I fight with the voices inside my head and shed a few tears until I fall into a deep sleep.

  The next morning, I’m woken by the sound of Sterling’s snoring, coming from the bedroom. It seems he snuck in and climbed into bed without me. How thoughtful.

  Leaving me on the lounge, I must have been pretty out of it to not hear him. I wonder what time he came in. My head is pounding, my eyes are puffy from crying, and I’m still feeling woeful.

  Stuff him. He is probably hungover.

  I stand up slowly, feeling dizzy, and walk into the bedroom to wake my sleeping husband.

  “Slam!” I open and close the wardrobe door until he wakes up, startled.

  “What—what’s happening?” he shouts as he sits upright, squinting from the sunlight. Then he lays back down, looking a little worse for wear.

  I smirk, feeling a little triumphant. “What time did you get in?” I ask him.

  “Not late,” he moans.

  Why don’t I believe him? I must have really been zonked not to hear him, especially a drunk Sterling. He’s pretty damn loud.

  He pulls the covers up over his head, so I decide to take a shower. I’m not in the mood. This is not how I envisioned my honeymoon to be, not one single part.

  Strike one to Sterling, but silly me, always giving him the benefit of the doubt and another chance.

  I brew some coffee that I am too sick to stomach, and pour a cup for Sterling. I place it on his bedside table with a glass of water and some Advil.

  “Coffee and drugs,” I mumble as I
head back to the couch. I am feeling even more weak and lethargic today. I flick through the channels to see what is on the TV, when I see Sterling out of the corner of my eye, sit up and sip his coffee, then swallow the pills with his water.

  “Thanks, Crys,” he says quietly before lying back down. I don’t even have the energy or the patience to answer him.

  I order room service at midday, just because I am not heartless or selfish. Sterling has to eat, and I’m in no state to go anywhere. I order two salads, two ham subs, and a bowl of curly fries, as I know oil is a godsend for hangovers. I don’t even bother waking him. I figure he will hear the waitress and smell the food when it arrives.

  When the knock on the door comes, I stand and almost collapse. Shit. I steady myself and try again, slowly shuffling to the door. I open it and signal to the table where the man places the tray.

  “Thanks so much. I will put the tip on my account,” I tell him, now feeling like I may throw up.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Hunt,” he responds and walks out, closing the door.

  That sounds so weird. I am now Mrs. Hunt. Don’t really feel like it though.

  I check out the food, and the nausea boils over at the smell. I run to the toilet to throw up. And here I was, thinking I’d be right as rain today. Fuck, can’t a girl just enjoy her god damn honeymoon.

  I’m feeling pissed and sorry for myself when I head back to the lounge, but I take a detour. Stuff it, I am feeling terrible, but why should I have to sleep on the lounge? I climb into the other side of the king size bed. There is plenty of room. The pillow is a little hard, but the mattress is divine.

  I don’t even remember falling asleep, but I do remember being woken up by my rude, obnoxious husband who is now eating noisily next to me.

  CHAPTER 3 – Feeling Worse

  I can’t believe that for the last four days, I have only ventured out three times, and stayed inside our cabin for the rest. I am feeling frustrated and depressed.

  “I’m so sorry, Sterling,” I say to him as he dresses for the beach.

  “Well, there is nothing you can do. I hope you don’t expect me to stay in here on such a beautiful day, do you.” It’s not a question.

  “No, of course not. We shouldn’t both have to suffer.” I remember the conversation with Hannah, about in sickness and in health. What a load of shit. Sterling hasn’t lifted a finger for me all week.

  Sterling gets reception to send a doctor to check on me while he is relaxing on the beach, talking to God knows who, enjoying the coolness of the water, no doubt.

  “You are running a fever, but show no other symptoms. However, we will start you on antibiotics, just to be safe,” the doctor who calls himself Toras tells me, handing over the already filled script.

  “Thank you, Doctor. We are heading home tomorrow, so I will go to my doctor if I’m not improving.” I assure him.

  “Yes, make sure that you do. Better to be safe than sorry,” he replies thoughtfully.

  Sterling is back from the beach when I wake from my nap, his hair wet, and he is drinking a corona that he picked up at the local supermarket yesterday.

  “I got some meds from the doctor,” I inform him as he didn’t think to ask.

  “That’s great. Fingers crossed they work. I can’t handle the sickness, or your whining any longer,” he replies rudely. My offer of getting dressed up to go out for dinner is no longer what I want.

  The last night of our honeymoon is morbid and quiet. I don’t want to talk to him, and he makes no effort either. I am looking forward to my own bed, and seeing Hannah at this point.

  ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  I can’t shake this damn illness so I head to our local doctor when I am home, and that is a huge struggle. Sterling had to head into the office, as usual.

  “I’ll be back in a few hours, wifey.” He pats my head. And that is fine because I am his pet, not his wife. We are home four hours, and he would rather go into the office.

  You know that feeling, when you think you trust someone, but you aren’t one hundred percent certain? I have no reason not to trust him, but something in my gut feels a little off, and not just because I am sick.

  Driving the five blocks to the doctor is a slight mission. My eyesight is a little blurry, and I feel like I could vomit any minute. Now, I am starting to get sharp breast pains, which is usually hormonal. My period is still two weeks away, so that is a little strange.

  Sitting in the waiting room, I feel my head start to pound. It’s an intense migraine; sudden and extreme. Well, at least I am in the right place.

  “Crystal Edgeworth?” I vaguely hear Dr. Stewart call my name.

  I stand to follow, but end up grabbing the chair. My head is throbbing, like there is a knife being inserted into the temple. Dr. Stewart comes and helps me walk into her office.

  “Crystal, you don’t look well at all,” she tells me, looking concerned.

  “I feel terrible,” I reply, finding it hard to lift my head.

  “Let’s start with taking your temperature.” She brushes the thermometer sensor along my forehead. “You have a fever of 101.2F, which is definitely high grade. Take these two Advil while I check your vitals. There is always a risk of seizure if your temperature rises too quickly.” I swallow them down, keeping my eyes closed due to my migraine.

  She checks my throat, ears, glands, and blood pressure. “Nothing else is standing out as infection; your blood pressure is slightly high. What other symptoms are you having, Crystal?” Dr. Stewart queries me for more details.

  I rack my brain for symptoms. “Nausea, headaches…oh, and sore breasts just today. My period is two weeks away, so I thought that was a little odd.”

  “Do you mind if I complete a breast exam? Then we’ll know to rule that out,” she asks. The thought never crossed my mind. Could I have a lump in my breast?

  “Oh, yeah, that’s fine.” I start to unbutton my blouse, and then I unclasp my bra as Dr. Stewart puts on disposable gloves.

  “I won’t make you stand, as I know your head hurts, but if you can sit up straight and put your right arm on your head, I can check the right breast first.” I do as she requests. I feel her check the breast tissue all around, and the nipple as well. “Okay. Now, the same on the left side.” I drop my right arm and raise my left, and I immediately feel that breast start to ache.

  She feels around with her fingers on both sides, and then she stops and pushes with her thumb and forefinger. “Ouch!” I cry out from the pain.

  “Sorry, Crystal. It does appear that you have a lump on this side.” She guides my hand to feel for myself. I feel the hard irregular lump that she is talking about.

  “Yes, I can feel it.” How did I not notice this before? Could this be something serious, the reason I am feeling so sick? “Do you think I could have breast cancer? Would it explain my sickness? Most people don’t even know they have cancer, do they?” I question her as panic sets in, and my mind is fleeting with hundreds of scenarios.

  “We will need to organise more testing. It may very well be a cyst, or you may just have a virus.

  Of course, there is a chance it is something more serious. A lot of people complain of feeling tired and run down, and nauseas, with flu like symptoms. But, let’s not jump to conclusions until we find out,” she adds, squeezing my arm and smiling. Thank heavens the Advil has taken the edge off my migraine.

  Dr. Stewart fills out a lot of paperwork, and calls her receptionist to let her next client know she will be a little behind schedule. My mind is racing.

  “Okay. So, here are your forms. First, I want to order some blood tests, then a mammogram and ultrasound of your left breast. I have included a biopsy on the referral too. Have you taken a pregnancy test at all?” she questions.

  “Yes, it was negative.” That was one of the first things I did.

  “Okay. Well, we will retest in around three days to make s
ure. That could explain the lumps in your breast tissue too. I will get Sylvia at reception to make a few calls for you to see if we can book you in for scans as soon as possible. No reason to wait. Do you have any questions, Crystal? I know it is a lot to take in right now, but let’s try and stay positive.” She pulls me in for a hug I wasn’t expecting, but definitely needed. “Oh, and here is a stronger antibiotic script, just in case it is a virus. This will help.”

  “No questions right now, but I’m sure that will change. Thanks so much, Dr. Stewart.” I force a smile. Something tells me I will be seeing a lot more of her.

  I leave the medical centre feeling numb. I glance at the clock and notice the time is after three, but other than that, I’m driving, not really paying attention. So when this little black dog runs out onto the road, I only see him at the very last second.