I was discharged the following day using the company health card. Since the professional fee of the OB/GYN was not covered on the health card, Grey borrowed money from his teammates. I would forever be grateful to his teammates for helping us when we were still penniless. Grey hated this kind of life and he always dreamed of a better life. At the early years in our relationship, there were times when he secretly went to our place to meet me. Those were the times when the relationship was still in infancy stage. In a way, he learned about my family and how we were related to some of the powers-that-be in our place. I often reminded him that though we had influential relatives and family friends, we were at the poor side of the family tree. How poor was poor would depend upon his discovery later on.
One thing that I wanted in him was his financial responsibility. Though he assumed that my family was well-off, he didn’t let me pay a single centavo for my hospitalization. Back to our unit, the caretaker was surprised to see me on a Sunday afternoon as she was used to my going home to the countryside every weekends. I told her that I was on a sick leave and she assumed that I had lung problems.
Grey bought dinner from a fast food. We did not talk about what happened or rather, we avoided talking about the D&C. Instead, he instructed me to go to work the following day to erase all doubts about the miscarriage. I agreed though I was still very dizzy and unsure if I could come to work the next day.
Before bedtime, he started fondling my breasts. I removed his hand and turned my back on him. He pinned my shoulders down on the bed and went on top of me. I struggled. I threatened to shout for help.
“Then shout! If you want other people to know, go ahead!”
I was in my early 20’s then and image was important. If anybody knew about my ordeal, it would drag my “market value” down. This was Asia, folks! Overwhelmed and confused about his actions, Grey took the chance to overpower me more. He tore down my pajama top and removed my panty.
“I am bleeding. Don’t do this,” I begged.
He did not listen. I was still hurting due to the procedure. He ejaculated inside of me and went to sleep as if nothing happened. Afraid of the possible infection, I went to the restroom to clean myself. I looked at myself on the mirror: red eyes from crying, torn clothes, blood on my private part, half-naked body. I looked awful!
The only consolation that I had on that night was receiving two text messages: one from a girl friend and another from a male teammate. They asked about what happened and if I was okay. I told them that I would report to work the following day and there was nothing to worry about.