Chapter 1 ~ Patrason

"Patricia." Jason Winkler frowned. Why did he always have to be the one keeping secrets? Victor, Patricia...it could be a little much at times. Other times, he was grateful for a life at all. He was, after all, slowly dying. "Yes Mr. Winkler?" she asked. "I'm afraid I need to see you after class today. You're really falling behind." The day Patricia fell behind on her school work was the day they found a cure for his degenerative condition. She may hate school, but that girl didn't half-ass anything. One of many things he liked about her.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine." she sighed. "Again?" He heard Mara ask. "I could tutor you, if you'd like." she added. Mara was a good friend. Jason turned his head to the side and listened closer. He was interested in what Patricia would say back. "No, it's okay Mara. I mean, who better to tutor you in a course than the one giving it?" Impressive. If he were Patricia, Jason probably could have done better. Then again, he was the DRAMA teacher. "Alright." Mara nodded. The bell rang, dismissing the students to their next class. Patricia joined him at his desk.

"I'll write you a note." Jason muttered. She closed the door; then Patricia came to sit on his desk, playing with one of her over-the-knee socks. He kissed her. Then he spoke. "You know Valentine's Day is coming up." Jason murmured. "I know." She whispered back. "So what are our plans?" he asked her. "Chicken from McDonald's and a Rom Com marathon." Patricia stated. "Sounds like a great plan." He told her, kissing her nose. Trailing them down to her mouth. "I love you." he whispered. "I love you too." Patricia started unbuttoning his shirt. "What are you doing?" Jason asked.

"As if you don't know." was his answer. Jason stopped her hands. He looked into her eyes. "Only if you're sure." He told her. She nodded. He let her strip him to his boxers. She lost everything but her bra, her tie, and her skirt. He tied her to his neck with her tie. How convienient. About five seconds after this, Mr. Sweet opened the door. "Jason!" he gasped. "Eric?" Jason exclaimed, throwing Trixie behind him. "Not Sweetie." she cursed under her breath. "Who is she?" Sweetie sighed. "Umm," Jason began. "It's Amanda. You don't know me." Patricia imitated a girl she met at the mall the other day. "Alright then. I'll just come back later." Jason and Patricia both held their breath until he closed the door.

"Shit." Patricia cussed. Tiny. Pink. Plus. Signs. She felt like hitting something. The worst part? That's right. It was Jason's. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. How could she tell him? Everyone would know when she started showing. Shit Shit Shit. There was only one way out of this. The word hurt to think about. "Come on, stupid." she told herself. "Just say it. It's a word. I'm sure it's in some dictionary somewhere." The word came out quietly.

Abortion.

A life not lived.

Patricia signed her name on the clipboard. Pain. Pain. Pain. She was terrified, though that was something she would never admit. Patricia was shaking. Her palms were sweaty. The other women here looked almost...bored. Two were on their cell phones, one was typing on her lap top, a few read books. Others flipped through the magazines on the table. One other teenage girl was here. "Hi." Patricia muttered shyly, sitting next to her. The girl had strawberry-blonde hair, pulled into a mermaid braid. She wore an oversize yellow sweatshirt and was texting. "Hello. I'm Katie." she uttered in a muted tone, brushing a piece of hair out of her face. "I'm Patricia." Patricia croaked. Katie glanced at her, taking in her nervous expression. "Is this your first time here?" Katie asked her. "Uh, yeah, it is." Patricia answered. Katie's french manicure clicked on her phone's keyboard. "It's my second. Who's your baby daddy?" "I'd rather not say." Patricia was ashamed. "Mine's simple. Same as me." Katie barely gave that sentence a second glance. "You mean-?" "That my dad raped me? Yeah. My foster mum told me it was either abortion or I could go live on the streets." They both fell silent after that. "My teacher." Patricia whispered. "Huh?" Katie asked. "My History teacher is my baby daddy." "Katherine Meyer." A nurse called. She wore bright green scrubs and a smile. How nauseating. Katie left.

"Patricia Williamson." She was next. Deep Breaths.

An hour later, Patricia Williamson left the clinic with tears on her cheeks and a hole in her heart.