CHAPTER. IM SORRY THE BOLD ISN'T WORKING AND THAT I HAVE TO USE CAPS, BUT I'M
WORKING ON TWO COMPUTERS TO GET THIS STUFF OUT AT LEAST ONCE A WEEK. I NEED
IDEAS FOR MY NEW STORIES, IF ANYONE HAS A SUGGESTION, REVIEW IT. SO, IS FIONA
PREGNANT OR NOT? FIVE REVIEWS TO UPDATE.
*ELI'S POV*
I rocked my daughter back and forth, whispering her name over and over. Clare sobbed on
the bed next to me, and I collapsed into her. She snatched the baby out of my hand and
began to kiss her face. What if my baby was sick? What if that was what was making her cry
all the time? We were sitting in a pediatrics room in the hospital, and my wife couldn't stop
crying. "Clare." I whispered, my voice shaking. I was going to break any second. "Baby, she'll be
fine." I murmured, trying to convince myself. I touched my baby's forehead and kissed Clare's
cheek. Clare tried to wriggle away, but I held her closer. "Blue eyes…I need you now, baby,
don't you get it?" she looked at me then, my Blue Eyes. I held her closer to me, holding my baby
with my other arm. "Whenever I was sick, you and my kids were the only reason I kept fighting,
the only reason I wanted to wake up in the morning. I needed you. So does she." I said, kissing
Celia. "We need to be a lot stronger, okay?" I said. Clare nodded into my chest, her sapphire
eyes brimming with tears. "What are we going to do?" Clare whispered. "I don't know." I
replied honestly, "but we'll work it out." The doctors had taken X-rays of her chest, and blood
samples to test for lung problems. I sighed. The doorknob turned, and our doctor walked in. He
looked at us gravely, holding a piece of paper in his hands. "Eli, Clare, your daughter…"
*ADAM'S POV*
To say the least, my life had gone to shit. I sat on the roof of our penthouse, smoking my fourth
cigarette and watching the sun set. A few months ago-had it really only been a few months?-
Fiona and I had sat out here, discussing adoption. I sucked down another lungful of smoke and
exhaled. Again and again. The only reliable thing in my life. Fiona had gone, at my request, to go
stay with her mother. I wanted to take a picture right then, of me with my back pressed against
a cold concrete wall at the edge of our penthouse, looking down at the ant-like people below. If
you had asked me a week ago if this is what I would become, I would have said never. But now
I was. Me and Fiona just weren't meant to be. Miss Fiona Coyne, twin of Declan Coyne, who
is rolling in bucks and went to Harvard, who had such hopes for the future, who was about to
become a mother, actually, still will be a mother-. I cut off those thoughts, trying to hold back
the boiling ocean of pain I would soon be forced to swim across. My whole life, all I'd wanted
was to find a girl who loved me for me, who I could take care of. But I couldn't even do that. I
finished my cigarette, pulling another one out of my pocket.
Memories came flooding back. My whole life crashing over me like a wave. Being a little girl,
hating my own skin, trying to fit in when the whole world called me a freak. Being throw the
bathroom door by Fitz and Owen, the glass shattering as I ran. My skin, scarred and burned
with the hate that wouldn't stay inside me. Meeting Fiona, the days we laughed together.
Getting married, a curtain of flowers separating our lips until the last special moment when we
sealed our hearts with a kiss. Looking over dozens of pictures of parents, trying to pick the best
to adopt from. Fiona would get a child. Fiona would have a beautiful, screaming child placed
into her arms in a hospital room. Anastasia Isabella if it was a girl, Adam Declan if it was a boy.
I didn't want that bastard child carrying my name. She cheated on me, with God knows how
many men. She had a baby, a beautiful but ugly baby, growing inside her. With a perfect face
and body, but a soul of hate. The baby would be good-looking, Fiona was its mother. But it
would have its fathers heart, taking advantage of people, ruining lives. I dropped my cigarette
over the side of the building, watching it fall to its death on the ground. Like I should be. It
was all my fault. I should have been home more, been with her. She was to good for me, she
always had been. She was Fiona Coyne, a was a transgender freak. I stepped into the house,
and scrawled a note to Fiona.
Without you, I was nothing. And with you, I wasn't enough. Please, for me, be
happy. Raise your baby. Don't name it Adam, please. I love you, I always will. You are
the love of my life, Fiona, a life cut short. I was a flaw in your perfect life, and I'm
so, so sorry for everything I've done. My life insurance is as high as I could make
it, put it to good use. Your husband, who loves you more than you anything,
Adam.
I walked into the bedroom, everything was ready. I put the note in my pocket, and slid the
noose over my neck. I stared at the picture of Fiona and I on our wedding day, sitting on the
dresser. The picture would be replaced with ones of her baby soon. I love you, Fiona. I'm sorry.
My feet slid off the end and everything went black.
*A/N SOOOOOO? WHAT HAPPENED TO THE BABY? WILL ADAM LIVE OR DIE? FIVE REVIEWS
TO UPDATE!