Stealing All My Time
Jack watched as Ronnie slept in his bed, her body curled into the foetal position, her arms wrapped around her stomach, protectively. Protecting something that was no longer there. Jack sucked in a sharp breath, the air getting stuck in his throat, not allowing his lungs the necessity of oxygen.
How could he do this? How could he do this to her – again? Hadn't he done enough to her? Torn her apart so many times that there weren't enough fragments to put her back together again?
Jack felt his heart constrict in agony, a fist curling around the muscle and squeezing until he thought it would rupture. Ronnie's word rang out in his mind, over and over again, bouncing off the walls and penetrating his thoughts.
"I want him dead."
He closed his eyes, that one sentence drowning out everything else around him, everything within him. The image of Ronnie's face as the doctor told her what had happened washed across his closed lids. The torment and disbelief marring her delicate features. Her fingernails had dug into her palms, clawing at her hands in a bid to grab hold of something solid to stop her free falling. Jack had stepped forward and taken her hand in his, gently unfurling Ronnie's fingers and holding them. He hadn't said a word and the doctor had left.
Still, neither of them said a word. The minutes had turned to hours, both remaining in that same position. Frozen in time. As though if neither moved, they could prevent the next moment from happening. They could stay in that hospital room, pretending that everything would be fine and that in nine months time, Ronnie would be returning to give birth to her baby. They could pretend for a moment longer if they just didn't say a word.
Just a little longer.
So Jack remained silent, sitting beside Ronnie and holding her hand.
But the silence was shattered by the sound of the room door being opened and a nurse coming in. Her eyes filled with sympathy at the scene that greeted her and she placed a paper pot of pills on the tray at the foot of Ronnie's bed. "Miss Mitchell, you need to take these. They'll help." The nurse told her, her voice was gentle enough, but she may as well have screamed her words into Ronnie's ear.
Ronnie flinched, her eyes fixed on a spot on the wall, refusing to look at the nurse or the pills. The nurse looked to Jack, silently telling him to get Ronnie to take them. "Ron," he whispered, tracing delicate circles on the back of her fingers. "You should take them."
She acted as though she hadn't heard him.
"Ronnie, please – you could get sick if you don't."
Still, she said nothing. But her eyes slid from the wall to look into Jack's. The terror that filled them stopped his heart from beating for a moment. And that's when he knew.
He had to do this for her. She couldn't be the one that removed this child from her body, from her life. She couldn't do it.
He would have to.
Jack moved over to the bedside table and poured her a glass of water. He picked up the small tub of pills and carried them over to Ronnie. His fingers brushed her mouth as he parted her lips before tipping the pills into it. He put the empty container on the table and picked up the glass of water. He raised it to Ronnie's open lips and slowly let the liquid fill her mouth, before returning it to the table top.
"Swallow," Jack murmured. But Ronnie sat frozen in time, her body rigid and tense. Jack leant closer to her, his forehead resting against hers. "Please, Ron, just swallow darling. You have to do this. It'll hurt more if you don't. Please, Ronnie. Please, darling."
After several moments, he heard her gulp. The water and the pills were gone.
Just like her baby.