2 and ½ weeks

For the best

Summary: As opposed to 9 and ½ weeks lol! Sandy, Kirsten, Berkeley, fight, break-up, something's wrong.

Disclaimer: Josh is the owner…the master…but we do not bow to his will right now because I am mad with him!

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Hope you're all having a good weekend. Enjoy

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It was for the best. For all of us.

For me. For it. (She still couldn't call it a baby) For Sandy.

She repeated it over like a mantra.

For the best. For everyone.

Her mom, her dad, her sister. For Sandy, for her.

For the…for…it.

Over and over and over.

It took her twenty minutes to pluck up the courage to actually enter the building. It wasn't that it looked particularly uninviting; in fact it looked pretty reputable for an abortion clinic that would deal in cash, it was just she was scared. She was glad she'd arrived a whole hour early.

Inside she sat with the consent form in front of her, eyes skimming over the words; anything to make this less real, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself crying. She checked the boxes, printed the date in a shaky hand and hesitated on the line where she had to sign. Half of her didn't want to do this. This other half was simply frightened of this being traced. She glanced up at the clock; she had ten minutes, and caught the receptionist's eye. Kirsten glanced hurriedly back at the paper and paused again.

'You don't have to put your name,' a quiet voice said beside her. It was the receptionist. 'Just put Mary.'

'I can do that?'

'Officially no but we turn a blind eye to it.'

'Why Mary?'

'Someone's idea of a joke. Virgin Mary you know.'

Kirsten nodded and scrawled the name.

'Shall I take that?'

She found she had to prise her fingers from the document and once she'd let go they began to tremble.

'It'll be okay honey,' the woman said. 'Now, how are you paying? Cash, check or credit?'

That was the other reason she'd had to go home. She'd withdrawn as much as much as she could afford from her Berkeley bank account and then only a little from the one in Newport so as not to arouse suspicion. The rest of the amount she'd managed find digging around in her room. The epitome of a Newport Princess; finding $200 in a Gucci purse you hadn't used since sophomore year.

She handed over the envelope as a nurse appeared and beckoned to her. She took a deep breath and another, bracing herself.

'They're ready for you,' the receptionist said, as if she didn't know that. 'It won't take long. I'm sure this is for the best.'

For the best.

For the best.

Kirsten focussed on that as she herself out of the chair and sleepwalked across the room.

It was what she had forced herself to think as she'd told the doctor her decision and now she used it to block out the voice of the counsellor in that oh-so-helpful three minutes.

For the best.

Repeating it like a mantra in her head over the sound of the machine.

For the best.

Less than a quarter of an hour later and she was free to go; $600, one foetus and a hell of a lot of innocence poorer.

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She was stood at the bus stop when he saw her, her arms wrapped round her waist, shivering. Kirsten didn't see him until he was close by, startled out of her melancholy reverie by an oh so familiar and comforting but ultimately heartbreaking voice.

'Kirsten.'

It was so good to see her.

Her head jerked upwards but she didn't look in his direction, scanning the road desperately for her bus and returning her gaze to her feet.

'Kirsten,' he said again, nearing her.

She was trembling, her teeth biting her bottom lip as she tried not to cry.

Not here. Not right now. Not in front of Sandy.

He put his hand on her arm and she flinched away. A bus roared up to the stop and Kirsten moved towards it, not caring where it was heading.

'Kirsten,' he tried a third time.

He heard her draw a shaky breath, tilting her head back to stop the tears from falling and then ducking it again.

He let her go. Watching as she hurried onto the bus, bought a ticket and sat down. Even through the steamy windows he could see she was about to cry, the eyes that refused to meet his were awash.

She sat back feeling sick as the bus drove off.

Sandy. Sandy. Sandy.

Daddy. Daddy. Daddy.

Kirsten roughly wiped her cheeks.

Had he done this to her? Was this his fault? He wished he knew. 'What did I do wrong?' he asked the back of the receding bus. 'What did I do wrong?'

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How's it going?

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