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Chapter Eighteen

"Jack?"

"Yeah? What did the test say?"

"How do I kill it?"

" . . . What?"

"How do I kill this thing?"

"Slow down. I'm sure that isn't what you want to do."

"I guess you don't know how to perform an actual abortion . . ."

"No, and that's ridiculous. We have no equipment, not enough antibiotics or painkillers . . ."

"Alright, so what are my other options?"

"Cammy, think about this. I don't know whether you're religious,"

"I'm not."

"But still, this is a human life we're talking about. Why should it pay for your mistake?" He was clearly against abortion, the self-righteous prig.

"My mistake? Human life? Jack, this is a tiny little clump of cells, and let me tell you something else. I wouldn't care if it was a fully-grown little person right now, I'd still want to kill it. It has no right to life." I spat hysterically, knowing that if I stopped to think about it, I would realize that I didn't really mean the words coming out of my mouth. So I didn't stop to think about it. "I hate the goddamned parasite and I want it OUT OF ME. I have no obligation to this thing. It isn't my fault!" Strictly, this wasn't true. I'd let it happen in order to protect my sister. In this moment I knew that if I'd known this would happen, I'd have done anything I had to, including ruining her life, in order to prevent it.

"It's not your fault?"

"Not really, no."

"Because you were raped?"

I looked down quickly. He was probably staring at me, and was silent for a while.

"By who?"

"It doesn't matter. What matters is killing the thing the bastard left in me."

"Cammy, please think about this."

"I have. I've thought long and hard, Jack. I need it dead."

"I have no idea how to make that happen," He admitted.

"Shall I go fall out of a tree a few times? Take up smoking? Do some heavy lifting? Better yet, why don't you punch me in the stomach, Jack. Go on, hit me. This thing's the size of a sea monkey, we can take it out." I was half sarcastic, half hysterical.

"Cammy, sleep on it. And I'll try to think of something. Tomorrow, we'll talk. Anyway, I'm pretty sure it isn't legal for me to help you abort your baby."

"Don't call it a baby. It's barely a fetus. It's nothing."

"Whatever. When we get back to the States, if people find out I helped you get rid of it, your parents could sue me and I could have my medical license revoked."

"Trust me, Jack, I wouldn't tell anyone. I'd be too busy killing the man who did this to me. Pregnant! Jack, I'm fifteen. That's ridiculous. That's not okay. Pregnant! This is so monumentally wrong."

"I know, Cammy. I'm so sorry this happened to you."

"Sorry doesn't help. I'd much rather you spend your energy on figuring out what will kill this thing."

He frowned at me and walked away. I went to my tent and sat down, prodding my stomach gently. I wanted someone to kick me right in the uterus. Every second I waited, the thing was getting bigger and bigger, cells dividing and building up. I was housing it and fuelling its creation.

My child, my mind thought once, but I recoiled with such painful hatred that my thoughts didn't go there again. How could I be so stupid? I should have gotten my hands on a morning-after pill, however the hell that worked.

One thing I knew for certain: I wasn't going to let this thing be born. I would never end up like Claire, huge with the thing squirming inside me. Well, not never. I might eventually have children. But not this one. If it was born I would hate it and feel like killing it. I never knew I could feel such hate. I'd hated Jared for a long time, but it was almost a past-tense thing. I hated him for what he did. I hated this thing for what it was trying to do.

Suddenly I couldn't just sit here and wait for it to grow. I stood up, determined that I had to kill it. Now. Even if it did mean falling out of trees.

The second I left my tent, the idea came to me with the blazing sunlight.

I found myself marching towards Sawyer's tent. Now I didn't care if he knew, I didn't care what he thought. I was going to kill it, no matter what it took.

"Sawyer," I called as I got close.

"What can I help you with, Thursday?"

"You have alcohol in your stash?"

"What, like rubbing alcohol?"

"No, drinking alcohol. From the plane. The stronger the better."

"What are you talking about?"

"I need alcohol, right now!"

"I have some hand sanitizer, if you're trying to disinfect a wound or something." His eyes roved over me, looking for such a wound.

"No, I'm telling you I need booze. Liquor. Moonshine. Spirits." I tried pushing past him into the tent, which of course didn't work. He laughed at me.

"Can I see some I.D., miss?"

"Shut the fuck up and give it to me. I know you have some. You have to. Please." I was panicking, understanding how poorly executed this plan was. It wasn't really a plan at all. I should have gone through his stuff while he was gone.

"You can't honestly believe I'm going to give you liquor."

"I need you to." I was absolutely pleading now, and I think this was when he realized something was wrong.

"Why, Cammy? Did something happen? 'Cause when you're a fifteen-year-old girl, drinking your troubles away isn't really advisable. Shouldn't you just go write about it in your diary?" He saw the look on my face and added, "Or you could, I d'no, tell me about it. If you really want." He rubbed his shoulder uncomfortably.

"What about nutmeg?" I said suddenly, as a lightbulb flashed over my head. I remembered reading somewhere that nutmeg was used as a natural abortifacient by some remote tribe or something.

"Nutmeg."

"Yes."

"Cammy, why the hell would I have nutmeg? People don't typically travel with suitcases full of spices."

"Can you just check, if you won't give me liquor?"

"I'm certain that I don't have any nutmeg, Cameron. Why don't you tell me why you're trying to get drunk and high?"

"High?"

"Well, don't stupid highschool kids try to get high off nutmeg, sometimes? I doubt it works. There are a million things on this island and in my stash that would be easier to get high from, Cammy."

"I don't want to get high."

"Then why the fuck would you want nutmeg?" He sounded exasperated, as though we were going in circles.

"I'm baking a cake!" I raged. "Fine, no nutmeg. And you won't give me alcohol, so what else do you have?"

"Gotta be a little more specific than that, Cammy."

"Drugs. Meds, I mean, not narcotics."

"Meds? For what?"

"I don't know. Strong medications. Things with lots of warnings and side effects listed on the label."

"You're not making any sense, Thursday."

"Stop calling me that!" I snapped. Normally I didn't mind, I even liked the cute nickname. But right now it kept bringing to mind unpleasant memories. People walking by were starting to stare, and I was the definition of 'making a scene'.

"Come inside, Cammy."

I stepped into the tent, and immediately cat my eyes about for anything, anything at all that could kill my baby. My eyes rested a moment on a knife. No, not that desperate.

"What the hell is up, Cammy? This morning Jack comes in here, demanding I give him a . . ." His eyes went wide, then narrowed tightly, and he sat down on a rendered plane seat. "It wasn't for Kate, was it?"

I shook my head, imperceptibly glad that the jig was up and we weren't lying and bringing Kate into it anymore.

"You're a little slut, aren't ya?" he said. Water jumped to my eyes instantly. "I'm sorry. That was an awful thing to say." He kept staring at me. "I still don't understand why you wanted booze and nutmeg and meds, though . . . oh. Oh, God. You pissed on the stick and it came out positive, didn't it?"

I squeezed my eyes painfully tight, they were burning and I felt dizzy.

"Oh, fuck. Holy goddamned fuck, Cammy."

"My sentiments exactly." I muttered.

He stood up and hastened to his stash, lifting a section of floor to reveal far more goods than I'd ever imagined he had. "Alcohol won't do you any good, kid. I mean, it's not good for the thing, but there's no guarantee it'll kill it." He rifled as he spoke. "You were right about meds, lots of things have 'don't use if you are pregnant or nursing' on the labels, right?" He glanced at bottle after bottle after box, throwing them all away when he didn't see those magic words. I just stood there, beyond grateful that he was doing exactly what I needed from him, what Jack refused to do; looking for something that'd do the job. Then he suddenly stopped rifling and sat back, balancing on his ankles.

"What am I doing? I can't give you some random, dangerous medication in the hopes it'll kill your . . . problem." He almost said 'baby'. "Whatever I give you might kill you. No, you need to talk to Jack about this. He definitely knows what he's doing more than me. Hell, I know jack-shit about inducing fucking miscarriages."

"Jack doesn't think I should get rid of it."

Sawyer's eyes narrowed even more. "What does he know? You're fifteen, you made a little mistake,"

I cut him off. "Actually . . ." did I want to tell him? No, never. "Actually, it was a pretty huge mistake."

We just looked at eachother for a moment. Finally, "Can you kick me in the stomach?" I asked, partly serious.

"Definitely not."

"Okay." The ocean crashed, as usual, back and forth. "You don't seem all that surprised."

"I am."

"Not as surprised as Jack was."

"Well, I don't think I grew up in the same neighbourhood as Jack, honey."

"That, and you always took me for a slut, didn't you?"

"No. No, when I said that, I was in shock. I didn't mean it. Trust me, Cammy, when I was fifteen I was no saint, either."

I found that easy to believe. "I think I'd like to get drunk now, even if it won't kill the . . . parasite."

"It's one in the afternoon, Cammy. Even I don't usually sink that low. And I'm not going to give you booze, ever. No, what you need is . . . I have no idea what you need."

"Can I just stay here, for a while?"

"I . . ."

"I don't want to be alone. If I'm alone, I'll probably do something stupid like purposely fall out of a tall tree or something." I'd seriously been considering it.

"Fine, you can stay for a while. Not like I had any plans."

I sat down and pulled my knees up to my chest, closing my eyes. I felt some degree of calm, for the first time since peeing on that stick.

"On second thought, I think I do know what you need. It won't kill anything, but it might take the edge off." He dug deep into the stash of treasure. "Close your eyes. Go on, now, close 'em." I did. The next thing I felt was something cool, light, and smooth in my hand. A smile broke out before I even opened my eyes. A chocolate bar. Caramilk. Sweet Jesus, it looked amazing, wrapped up all neatly.

"It's been under three feet of sand for a month, so it's cold, but it'll melt fast."

I looked up at him. He was clearly uncomfortable with the act of kindness. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Thursday. Nobody deserves to be fifteen and pregnant, no matter what stupid mistake led to it." I had to look back at my lap as tears formed. He thought he wasn't nice, wasn't good. He pretended to be heartless, but this, right now, was the most intense display of compassion I'd ever witnessed. I ate a square of the chocolate and held the bar out to him. He snapped a piece off and popped it in his mouth. We just sat, eating chocolate until it was gone, and then sat some more. The sense of peace didn't leave me, because I was still certain of that one truth: I would not give birth to Jared's baby. One way or another, I'd get rid of it. And Sawyer would help me however he could, and maybe Jack, too.

Deep breaths.