Bella:
The night was all you had
You ran into the night from all you had
Found yourself a path upon the ground
You ran into the night; you can't be found
It's been a week since I left home, and it's not gone well. I've been round to Lauren and Jessica's houses to have a shower, but other than that I've lived out of my truck. I've almost run out of the money I took and I really need to get a job.
Things aren't going too well.
"Isabella, could I have a word with you?" Mrs Harris, my English teacher asks.
"Hmm?" I hum, looking up and realizing the class has ended but I've made no move to leave.
"You seem a little distracted," Mrs Harris begins, sitting on the desk in front of mine.
"A little?" I snort, thinking how I've hardly paid attention in any lessons. I've been going through everything in a haze.
"Ok, a lot. Is everything ok?" Mrs Harris asks kindly.
I consider telling her everything. Then, though, I'd just be taken into a care home, and my child would be taken off me. I'm not going through all of this just to have my baby taken away.
"I'm not getting much sleep," I lie. Well, it's not a complete lie. Sleeping in the truck is pretty damn hard. I pack up my stuff and try to make a quick exit, feeling bad for lying to Mrs Harris.
She's always been so kind.
"I have to get to my next class," I tell her as I walk out, going to my next class.
History. With Mr Banner. Great.
I try to stay out of trouble this lesson, actually listening and paying attention to the boring lecture he gives.
Instead of being glad schools over, I just want to stay. In school its warm, people actually give a shit about how I feel and I'm not all alone.
I'm not sure why, but there's a part of me that's actually surprised my parents haven't tried to get in contact with me. Dad, I can understand, Mum, however. That hurts more.
I use the toilets in school before I have to return to my truck, trying to prolong the inevitable. When I look down, I see blood in the toilet.
Oh shit.
No.
Not possible.
My stomach twists uncomfortably, a mixture of pain both physical and emotional.
I can't be miscarrying, can I? Since that evening with Riley, I haven't been anywhere near drugs or alcohol.
I clean myself up and run out to my truck, intending to go straight to the hospital. They'll want to know everything, though.
But I have to do what's right for my child. I have to go.
I get in my truck and start it up, driving as fast as I can. I finally reach Seattle Hospital, pulling into the parking lot and making my way to A&E.
"Hello, how can I help?" the receptionist asks, smiling politely.
I open my mouth to respond when I get hit with light-headedness. I try to hold onto something but my arms won't move accordingly, so I go falling to the floor as my hands clutch desperately at my stomach.
When I wake up again, I'm in a hospital room, which disorientates me.
"It's ok; you fainted, so we brought you in here to keep you safe," a woman informs me. She hands me a board, telling me to fill in the forms so that she can treat me.
I take the form and pen from her and take a seat, quickly filling in the information. I leave the home address part blank. I also fill in a fake name, the only correct information on the form being my date of birth.
I can't have them calling my parents, they'd kill me.
After I hand in the form another nurse arrives, with a wheelchair. I'm sat in the wheelchair and wheeled off to the maternity section of the hospital. I get taken to a bed, and an ultrasound machine is brought in.
"Nicola Stewart…how far along are you?" the nurse asks. "Oh, I'm Nurse Lake, by the way," she smiles at me.
"Um, I think I'm a couple of weeks along. I'm not too sure, though," I mumble.
"Ok, could you lift up your top so I can do an ultrasound?" Nurse Lake asks.
I do as she asks, trying to hold in the tears. I can't have lost my baby, I can't. Already this baby means everything to me.
"How did you get these bruises?" Nurse Lake asks, inspecting the bruises on my side.
"Uh, I'm clumsy," I lie, looking down.
Cold gel is squirted on my stomach, and then the ultrasound begins. I hold my breath, hoping my baby is alright.
"Look, can you see this small smudge right here?" Nurse Lake points to the monitor. I nod. "That's your baby."
I cry in relief and keep staring at the screen. That's my baby. My baby's alright! I don't know what I would have done if he or she wasn't ok…
No, I don't need to think like that. My baby's fine. Everything's fine.
"I can print off the picture, if you'd like?" Nurse Lake offers. I quickly agree.
She leaves the room momentarily, giving me some towel to clean my stomach. I consider running, since I know she has more questions, but I really want the pictures.
Finally I decide to wait and get the pictures, then come up with a lie to make a quick exit.
"Here are the pictures," Nurse Lake says, handing me a small envelope. "I ran your name and date of birth through our system. No records came up," the nurse adds, looking pointedly at me.
"Oh…" I mutter, wishing I'd left before the pictures.
"Nicola Stewart isn't your real name, is it?" Nurse Lake asks gently. I don't say anything in response; she already knows it's not. "What is your real name?" she adds.
I still remain silent.
"We have many systems in place to help you and your baby, if you'd just tell us your real name," Nurse Lake prompts.
"No! You'll just take me into care and take my baby off me!" I sob, clutching tightly at the precious pictures. "I haven't gone through all of this just to have you take my baby away!"
"Not necessarily," Nurse Lake tells me. "I only want to help you."
I pause for a moment, considering what she's saying as I wipe away the tears. She hands me a tissue which I thank her for, my eyes darting to the doorway.
There's no way I could make it out of here.
"My real name is Isabella Swan," I tell her eventually, looking down.
"Ok, I'll check that through the system," Nurse Lake says, relief evident in her voice.
"You don't believe me?" I ask accusingly.
"No! I just need to check your medical history. Could you stay here while I do that?"
I nod in response to her question and watch as she leaves the room. Even if I did run, she has my name, so she could find which school I went to and where I used to live.
I knew I should have run while she was getting the pictures.
After about five minutes Nurse Lake re-enters the room, holding a file. A look of worry is etched on her face, making me want to cry once again.
"Isabella, you've-"
"Don't call me Isabella. Please," I interrupt, hating my full name. It's all my Dad's fault, for making me hate it. "Call me Iz or Izzy or something," I add.
"Ok, Iz. Well, I've looked through your file and seen you've been admitted several times over the past six years for a range of injuries, such as broken wrists, broken arms, a bruised rib cage and numerous others. Is there anything you want to tell me?" Nurse Lake asks.
"I'm clumsy," I mumble, my eyes pleading with hers to believe me.
"I want to help you, but I can't if you don't speak to me. Maybe I could call your parents, for some support?" she offers, thinking she's being kind.
"No! No, please, don't call my parents!" I shout, my heart beating faster at what Dad might do or say. "Not that they give a shit about me anyway…" I murmur quietly. I hate them so much.
Nurse Lake's eyes widen at my words before realization dawns on her. Her eyes hold a sympathetic look, begging me to just tell her the truth.
"I can't," I tell her, crying quietly. "You don't know what he's like. What he'd do if he found out I said anything."
"This medical folder holds enough evidence to convict him," Nurse Lake assures me. I never thought about him going to prison. It would never work.
"But it's just my word against his. Anyway, he has friends at the police station, they'd stand by him," I tell her hopelessly, wanting nothing more than to get away from Seattle, away from everything.
"I wouldn't be so sure," Nurse Lake informs me. "My husband is a police officer. Used to work with…him. Apparently, he was foul to work with, verbally and sometimes physically abusive to the other officers. I'm sure they'd listen to you and take you serious. Then, if they too complained, it would be more than just your word against his."
Sitting back in the bed, I consider what she saying. Do I trust her?
"I also have another proposition for you," Nurse Lake begins. "There's a home set up, not too far from here, that looks after teenagers who have been through a lot, or are pregnant, and have nowhere else to go."
I sit up in the bed, outraged. "I'm not going to some care home!" I shout at her.
"No, it's not a care home. You would keep your baby, they just offer added support," Nurse Lake tells me kindly. "Anyway, you don't have to decide right away. Though, I would like to keep you in overnight, for observation," she adds.
I try to act annoyed at this, but I'm secretly relieved as this bed in so much more comfortable than my truck. Also, this might mean I'll get a proper meal.
Nurse Lake leaves the room again, so I make myself more comfortable on the bed. I dry the last of my tears, wondering what will happen at school tomorrow.
I also consider her proposition of this home she's offering me. She said it was away from here, which is good, and it's somewhere I can stay. Maybe I shouldn't have acted so rash in my decision, I mean, it could be good for me. And my baby.
When Nurse Lake re-enters the room, there's also another doctor with her. I frown at them both, wondering why another doctor is here.
"Izzy, this is Dr Nichols, he's here to speak with you," Nurse Lake tells me.
"Speak about what? Could you, uh, stay here with me?" I ask her nervously.
She nods reassuringly, and lets Dr Nichols speak.
"Hello, I'm Dr Nichols. I need to ask you a few questions regarding yours and your baby's health," Dr Nichols begins. I just shrug in response. "Do you know of any reason why there was blood in your urine?" Dr Nichols asks me.
I look down, embarrassed and ashamed at my behaviour earlier on in my pregnancy.
"I, um, I smoked before I realised I was pregnant," I admit, feeling tears trail down my face.
"Is that everything?" Dr Nichols asks.
"No," I sob out. "I smoked cigarettes, weed and drank alcohol." I curl myself up into a ball on the bed and cry, ignoring Dr Nichols and Nurse Lake.
I don't deserve this baby when I was originally so cruel and harsh to it, not caring for its well-being.
For the rest of the evening Nurse Lake tries to get me to talk to her or anyone, but I don't say a word. I stay, curled up in bed, not saying anything, just clutching my stomach and crying.
I'm just what Dad said. A useless, plain, boring slut who is undeserving of love.
A/N: Thoughts?
Review please! :)
Lyrics: Laura Palmer by Bastille