Turmoils, an er fanfic

TITLE

TITLE: Turmoils

AUTHOR: Abilene Keegan

RATING: R, to be safe

SYNOPSIS: The ramblings of Abby Lockhart.

DISCLAIMER: The following is a story of fiction based on characters created and owned by Michael Crichton and NBC.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I planed this story as a potential reasoning for why Abby's character has been so, how do I put this, mean lately. :) I don't know if that's really where it went but it was fun to write anyhow. Sorry for the extreme shortness but I'm not the best when it comes to writing in the first person. Let me know what you think... please!

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T u r m o i l s

I watch him sleep through hollow eyes. Feelings, emotions all drained from me. I cannot feel. But I don't deserve not to. He has seen so much. A wrenched world. Three tragic deaths. It has become a part of him. So much so that I must wonder if the man I know is really nothing but the formation of a disguise. If he hides who he really is. Just as he hides from his past. Will I wake up one day and find him a monster? Taken over by this world of tragedy that still survives inside of him. Will it kill him as it killed them? No. I must not think such thoughts. I cannot believe those things. He is a part of me now. I am a part of him. If he wakes up a monster. So might I.

For all the pain he has endured. All the death he has seen. My life has been a fairytale when measured up to his. Yet I still cry for my past. For my future. For my present. When the three people he cared most about in the world only have the past. Does he ever resent me because I am here and she is not? Would he have resented our child? The one I sent back from whence it came. "Richard never even knew did he?" Had been my mothers question. Why would he have known? Why would I tell him? The child hadn't been his.

I pray for forgiveness every night. Hoping he will hear me somehow while he sleeps, maybe somewhere in his dreams. What will I tell him when the time does finally come? When I can no longer keep this secret that has been tearing at my very soul. 'Sorry honey, you're wrong, you don't have two dead kids you have three.' What will I say? How will I say it? How will he react? Will he forgive me? Will he want to punish me for my crime? "A court is in session, a verdict is in. No appeal on the docket today. Just my own sin." Should I be forgiven? That answer is NO.

Every day I wonder how I will face another. How will I wake up in the morning feeling his arms around me? As if I deserve the comfort his arms give. How will I return home every night to his smile and him cooking us dinner from my kitchen? I don't deserve his kindness. I don't deserve him. Doesn't he know this? How can he not when I try so hard to keep my distance from him? Why doesn't he feel that? Why doesn't he know? I don't deserve his arms around me, or the smiles he gives me, or the food he cooks me. I don't deserve his love.

When we make love I feel guilty. Guilty for the life I took. Guilty for the life I may have just helped create. And once he is asleep I cry myself to sleep. I am haunted by the knowledge that even though he has left my body a part of him is still inside me. That essence of life he has filled me with. It is inside me and it wants to create another life. Another soul for me to send back to the creator saying 'No thank you. I can't take it. I'll only hurt it. I'll destroy it's potential. I'll make it sick.' I am afraid of making love to him. I do not want it to happen again. I do not want to create another life, I do not want to take another life.

These are the turmoils of my messed up, fucked up life. I wonder what his are.

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THE END.

A court is in session, a verdict is in. No appeal on the docket today. Just my own sin. - Creed, My Own Prison