CHAPTER TWO: Violet- The Breaking Point
After the episode with Rose and Skylar, I quickly went back to my room. The sight of that girl had made me lose my appetite.
I had the strangest sense that my baby had taken a dislike to that Skylar as well. Every time she was near, I would feel rapid movement inside my stomach, as if my child wanted to escape and attack that hateful girl for what she had done to us.
I hadn't hated anyone before in my life. Now in the course of eight months, I had grown to hate two: Skylar Lavista, and the late, not-so-great Marcus Medved.
What a bastard. I should've known there was someone hiding underneath that goody-goody MTV visage. But how was I to know he wouldn't want to marry me if I was already pregnant? How was I to know he was taking money from the station and using it on the morphine that would eventually kill him? And how was I to know he only dated me to up his publicity?
The same way I found out everything else- too late, and the hard way.
I looked down at my stomach and patted it lightly again. "David Patrick Felder," I said quietly. I'd decided on the name barely days after I found out it was going to be a boy. The Patrick was for my normally beloved father- who, once he'd find out I was pregnant, would no doubt spew every curse in the Bible before literally throwing the Good Book at me as I'd run out the door in fear.
He knew I was in the hospital for my suicide attempt and the trauma concerning Marcus' death, but he'd never heard my being pregnant. I was his little girl and was supposed to stay that way forever.
He didn't even know I'd been sleeping with Marcus. That was how much I had to lie to him.
I was really was a shrinking violet, hiding in the darkness to hide my delicateness and frailty, possibly beautiful, but not wanting anyone to notice me for fear of being hurt.
Check that. Being hurt worse.
I wasn't the only one that had gotten hurt, though. Roses wilt, ebony rots, and amber cracks.
How many more tears must we cry? How many more hardships must we endure? How many more times must we be disappointed in life and love before we can go out into the world again? How long would it be before we were all accepted as normal human beings again?
I had a great doubt in my mind that nobody would ever accept Ebony again. After all, she had committed murder- possibly excusable in her situation- but a crime nonetheless.
Well, in a manner of speaking, everyone in this hospital committed a crime to be here- the crime of being different, of not fitting in to what society defines as normal, so we were locked away, swept under the carpet and forgotten about, left to die in the agony of our madness.
"They have to let me out of here," I whispered fiercely- maybe not so much to myself as to my son. "They have to."
I felt a deep movement within my womb, as if he agreed with me.
Suddenly a dark fear flashed across my brain. If I wasn't let out of here in time, would I have to give away my baby?
I couldn't. I just couldn't.
I'd rather die.
Two burning tears welled up in the corners of my eyes, and slowly dripped down to soak into the collar of my maternity dress.
Carefully I laid down on the bed, and let the tears quietly leak out of me, crying about the deepest fear I would possibly ever know. I placed a hand on my stomach to shield my son from the cruel, unforgiving world.
After the episode with Rose and Skylar, I quickly went back to my room. The sight of that girl had made me lose my appetite.
I had the strangest sense that my baby had taken a dislike to that Skylar as well. Every time she was near, I would feel rapid movement inside my stomach, as if my child wanted to escape and attack that hateful girl for what she had done to us.
I hadn't hated anyone before in my life. Now in the course of eight months, I had grown to hate two: Skylar Lavista, and the late, not-so-great Marcus Medved.
What a bastard. I should've known there was someone hiding underneath that goody-goody MTV visage. But how was I to know he wouldn't want to marry me if I was already pregnant? How was I to know he was taking money from the station and using it on the morphine that would eventually kill him? And how was I to know he only dated me to up his publicity?
The same way I found out everything else- too late, and the hard way.
I looked down at my stomach and patted it lightly again. "David Patrick Felder," I said quietly. I'd decided on the name barely days after I found out it was going to be a boy. The Patrick was for my normally beloved father- who, once he'd find out I was pregnant, would no doubt spew every curse in the Bible before literally throwing the Good Book at me as I'd run out the door in fear.
He knew I was in the hospital for my suicide attempt and the trauma concerning Marcus' death, but he'd never heard my being pregnant. I was his little girl and was supposed to stay that way forever.
He didn't even know I'd been sleeping with Marcus. That was how much I had to lie to him.
I was really was a shrinking violet, hiding in the darkness to hide my delicateness and frailty, possibly beautiful, but not wanting anyone to notice me for fear of being hurt.
Check that. Being hurt worse.
I wasn't the only one that had gotten hurt, though. Roses wilt, ebony rots, and amber cracks.
How many more tears must we cry? How many more hardships must we endure? How many more times must we be disappointed in life and love before we can go out into the world again? How long would it be before we were all accepted as normal human beings again?
I had a great doubt in my mind that nobody would ever accept Ebony again. After all, she had committed murder- possibly excusable in her situation- but a crime nonetheless.
Well, in a manner of speaking, everyone in this hospital committed a crime to be here- the crime of being different, of not fitting in to what society defines as normal, so we were locked away, swept under the carpet and forgotten about, left to die in the agony of our madness.
"They have to let me out of here," I whispered fiercely- maybe not so much to myself as to my son. "They have to."
I felt a deep movement within my womb, as if he agreed with me.
Suddenly a dark fear flashed across my brain. If I wasn't let out of here in time, would I have to give away my baby?
I couldn't. I just couldn't.
I'd rather die.
Two burning tears welled up in the corners of my eyes, and slowly dripped down to soak into the collar of my maternity dress.
Carefully I laid down on the bed, and let the tears quietly leak out of me, crying about the deepest fear I would possibly ever know. I placed a hand on my stomach to shield my son from the cruel, unforgiving world.