Authors Note- Hey, this is part one of a two part chapter, the second part should be coming later today, so it is short. I hope you all like it! Thank you everyone for the reviews, I love them and have taken into consideration all of your ideas. Oh and if you do anything today, or read any other sotory you HAVE to read Replacing the past by AbbyLockhart2... Seriously an amazing story. I love it, its not angsty or anything... It is great!!!! Thanks for the reviews everyone!
*Chapter 11*
I watch the dust collecting on the scratched table in front of me. Each particle falling, finding its place on the table. The dust turns the once dark brown table to a powder white. The room silent, not a peaceful silence. A dreadful silence. One that echoes in your ears, causing you to shudder to clasp your hands over your ears praying the loud silence ends soon. But it doesn't. It never will, because what is going on can't be hidden, or brushed under the rug. The silence represents your feelings, your utmost thoughts. No longer can you pray it all goes away. The particles continue to fall onto the dingy magazines set upon the dusty table. My eyes search the walls for something to concentrate on, nothing eases the pain. I wish I didn't have to go through this alone. I wish I didn't have to go through this at all. How much easier it would be to just leave, to raise this baby. Maybe I could even get Carter to forgive me for threatening to abort it. For wanting to abort it. He would love the child no matter what, even if it had six arms, even if it was a hermaphrodite. He would love the child even if it had a birth defect. He has unconditional love, well for the child. I am another story. My hand wanders down to my stomach, a baby is in there. A living and breathing thing. Well, not yet, but it could grow up to be anything. I wonder what it will look like, blue eyes, brown eyes, green eyes, grey eyes. Maybe some of each. Dark brown hair, definitely, it will have a mop of dark brown hair. Boy or girl I am not sure. Girl, daddy's little girl maybe. Or a mama's boy, something Eric never was.
"Abigail Lockhart." My head bolts up, bringing me out of my pleasant thoughts. The unrealism washing over me, a sick feeling in my stomach overwhelms me. I stand up suddenly dizzy, hanging onto the side of the chair for support I close my eyes. Slam them shut. I don't want to be here. This is the last place I want to be. I have no other choice. I have to do this, I am left option less otherwise.
"Abigail Lockhart?" The women's bland voice echoes over the intercom again. I wait, I don't move. I can't. I am stuck in this position. Maybe there is some higher power holding me back, stopping me from doing the inevitable. I stumble over to the desk, I can feel eyes on me, other women who are committing the same crime. Some unknown reason gives us all something to be ashamed of. Each one of us will be left with this burden, something to wake up late at night in a sweat about. Nothing good will ever come from this.
"You're Abigail?" The plump women asks. Her eyes bore into me, I keep mine on the counter, afraid anything else in this room will make me sick. I nod my head, she stands up and looks at me. "Are you okay?" Not a bit of sympathy or empathy in her voice.
"Yes." I squeak, I follow her to a room at the back. The walls are white washed, not much on them. A calendar, a few doctor supplies, and a pregnant women. Under her is a sign that reads 'are you doing the right thing?' The words flash in front of my eyes, I grip my stomach tighter, unable to stop myself from vomiting on the floor. The women looks shocked, she sighs then turns on her heels to, presumably, go get something to clean it up with. I am left alone with the poster and the calendar. Two things that seem to be haunting me at the moment. The words on the poster seem to get bigger by the minute. I quickly turn my head to the floor. I hear the wheels of a cart as the custodian pulls out his mop and cleans up my stomachs former contents. He glares at me for a second before continuing on his cleaning journey. I watch the mop swish back and forth, the water splashing around the, already, sand covered floor.
"Abigail?" A smiling women with a short brown bob walks into the room. She closes the door behind her, the click piercing the quiet room.
"Sorry about that." I croak out, my words hollow. She nods at me, the smile not leaving her face. I get the urge to wipe it off myself.
"Are you ready?" She looks at me, the smile not as wide as it once was. The seriousness of it all seems to have taken over he expression. I watch as she keeps her eyes on me. I think about the question. Am I ready, ready to get rid of my second 'would be' baby. Ready to disappoint everyone, what about ready to wake up every night screaming, regretting my decision. I'm not ready for any of that. This one action would way on my mind for ever. But I am I really ready for the alternative. To raise a baby, that could be bi polar. Or what about risk have to raise it all on my own? What about the child, it would suffer, I am not mother material. Look at Eric, I thought I had done it. I thought I got him through all the hard parts, he was going to be great, hell he is great, but he was just such a beautiful kid, no he's struck with a life altering disease. But if I had the choice would I want him to not be here because of it? I couldn't live my life without Eric, hell even Maggie. I need them both.
Yet bringing a child into this world, into my world, under such circumstances would not be fair. They wouldn't enjoy a life of luxury, they would have a life of pain and heartache. I am alcoholic. It's that simple, sure I haven't drank since I found out I was pregnant, but the tide could easily turn. I'm unstable and no one, especially not a child, should be forced to live with that. I could pass my alcoholism onto the child, inflicting this disease upon many more. Carter is another issue, he's the child's father yet we can't stand to be around each other. We have difference of opinions, he doesn't trust me, or love me. He could pass that same resentment onto the unborn baby. As selfish as it may sound, I don't think I could take the pain of my own flesh and blood hating me. I know anyone would be better off without me, its a fact, yet if I had this baby I couldn't dump it. I couldn't do to it, what my father did to me. But if I fell off the wagon, I know Carter would take the child away from me. The reasons to keep my child are purely selfish, I can't do this. Not now, not ever. Its final, I have to terminate this pregnancy.
I nod at the doctor, a single tear slipping ever so gently down my cheek. She forces a smile on her lips, and singles for me to get into the gown. I slowly discard of pieces of my clothing as she waits out the exam room door. I take one last look at my pregnant belly, a temporary reminder of what I am doing. I pull the gown over my body, covering the non existent bump of my stomach. I'm as ready as I'll ever be.
*Chapter 11*
I watch the dust collecting on the scratched table in front of me. Each particle falling, finding its place on the table. The dust turns the once dark brown table to a powder white. The room silent, not a peaceful silence. A dreadful silence. One that echoes in your ears, causing you to shudder to clasp your hands over your ears praying the loud silence ends soon. But it doesn't. It never will, because what is going on can't be hidden, or brushed under the rug. The silence represents your feelings, your utmost thoughts. No longer can you pray it all goes away. The particles continue to fall onto the dingy magazines set upon the dusty table. My eyes search the walls for something to concentrate on, nothing eases the pain. I wish I didn't have to go through this alone. I wish I didn't have to go through this at all. How much easier it would be to just leave, to raise this baby. Maybe I could even get Carter to forgive me for threatening to abort it. For wanting to abort it. He would love the child no matter what, even if it had six arms, even if it was a hermaphrodite. He would love the child even if it had a birth defect. He has unconditional love, well for the child. I am another story. My hand wanders down to my stomach, a baby is in there. A living and breathing thing. Well, not yet, but it could grow up to be anything. I wonder what it will look like, blue eyes, brown eyes, green eyes, grey eyes. Maybe some of each. Dark brown hair, definitely, it will have a mop of dark brown hair. Boy or girl I am not sure. Girl, daddy's little girl maybe. Or a mama's boy, something Eric never was.
"Abigail Lockhart." My head bolts up, bringing me out of my pleasant thoughts. The unrealism washing over me, a sick feeling in my stomach overwhelms me. I stand up suddenly dizzy, hanging onto the side of the chair for support I close my eyes. Slam them shut. I don't want to be here. This is the last place I want to be. I have no other choice. I have to do this, I am left option less otherwise.
"Abigail Lockhart?" The women's bland voice echoes over the intercom again. I wait, I don't move. I can't. I am stuck in this position. Maybe there is some higher power holding me back, stopping me from doing the inevitable. I stumble over to the desk, I can feel eyes on me, other women who are committing the same crime. Some unknown reason gives us all something to be ashamed of. Each one of us will be left with this burden, something to wake up late at night in a sweat about. Nothing good will ever come from this.
"You're Abigail?" The plump women asks. Her eyes bore into me, I keep mine on the counter, afraid anything else in this room will make me sick. I nod my head, she stands up and looks at me. "Are you okay?" Not a bit of sympathy or empathy in her voice.
"Yes." I squeak, I follow her to a room at the back. The walls are white washed, not much on them. A calendar, a few doctor supplies, and a pregnant women. Under her is a sign that reads 'are you doing the right thing?' The words flash in front of my eyes, I grip my stomach tighter, unable to stop myself from vomiting on the floor. The women looks shocked, she sighs then turns on her heels to, presumably, go get something to clean it up with. I am left alone with the poster and the calendar. Two things that seem to be haunting me at the moment. The words on the poster seem to get bigger by the minute. I quickly turn my head to the floor. I hear the wheels of a cart as the custodian pulls out his mop and cleans up my stomachs former contents. He glares at me for a second before continuing on his cleaning journey. I watch the mop swish back and forth, the water splashing around the, already, sand covered floor.
"Abigail?" A smiling women with a short brown bob walks into the room. She closes the door behind her, the click piercing the quiet room.
"Sorry about that." I croak out, my words hollow. She nods at me, the smile not leaving her face. I get the urge to wipe it off myself.
"Are you ready?" She looks at me, the smile not as wide as it once was. The seriousness of it all seems to have taken over he expression. I watch as she keeps her eyes on me. I think about the question. Am I ready, ready to get rid of my second 'would be' baby. Ready to disappoint everyone, what about ready to wake up every night screaming, regretting my decision. I'm not ready for any of that. This one action would way on my mind for ever. But I am I really ready for the alternative. To raise a baby, that could be bi polar. Or what about risk have to raise it all on my own? What about the child, it would suffer, I am not mother material. Look at Eric, I thought I had done it. I thought I got him through all the hard parts, he was going to be great, hell he is great, but he was just such a beautiful kid, no he's struck with a life altering disease. But if I had the choice would I want him to not be here because of it? I couldn't live my life without Eric, hell even Maggie. I need them both.
Yet bringing a child into this world, into my world, under such circumstances would not be fair. They wouldn't enjoy a life of luxury, they would have a life of pain and heartache. I am alcoholic. It's that simple, sure I haven't drank since I found out I was pregnant, but the tide could easily turn. I'm unstable and no one, especially not a child, should be forced to live with that. I could pass my alcoholism onto the child, inflicting this disease upon many more. Carter is another issue, he's the child's father yet we can't stand to be around each other. We have difference of opinions, he doesn't trust me, or love me. He could pass that same resentment onto the unborn baby. As selfish as it may sound, I don't think I could take the pain of my own flesh and blood hating me. I know anyone would be better off without me, its a fact, yet if I had this baby I couldn't dump it. I couldn't do to it, what my father did to me. But if I fell off the wagon, I know Carter would take the child away from me. The reasons to keep my child are purely selfish, I can't do this. Not now, not ever. Its final, I have to terminate this pregnancy.
I nod at the doctor, a single tear slipping ever so gently down my cheek. She forces a smile on her lips, and singles for me to get into the gown. I slowly discard of pieces of my clothing as she waits out the exam room door. I take one last look at my pregnant belly, a temporary reminder of what I am doing. I pull the gown over my body, covering the non existent bump of my stomach. I'm as ready as I'll ever be.