Chapter Eleven.
1222 Words
~ Sienna’s POV ~
“Sienna! Where are you?
SIENNA!”
Vincent’s singsong voice echoes through every corner of the house as he looks for me, like I’m some toy he wants to play with.
My breathing turns shallow when I hear him getting closer and closer to the closet I’m hiding in.
Soon, the cabinet doors fly open, and Vincent stands in front of me with a twisted smile on his face.
“Got you.”
Oh no.
His hand grabs my hair as he yanks me out of the closet. I try to fight back. I always do, even though it never works.
“How dare you talk back to me?”
“Vincent, enough.”
“You’re useless,” he says. I can’t see his face, but I can feel him. His hands on my head. “I’m the reason you are who you are today. I am the reason your sister has a shot at life, and you dare talk back to me?!”
“Vincent, that’s enough, please,” I beg, because that’s what I always do.
I beg.
And he laughs.
“You think you can act however you want because my father favours you? Fine, let’s see if he can save you now.”
He wraps both hands around my neck, tightening his grip as he hovers over me while I lie on the floor.
“Vincent… s-stop!”
“Vinc… let go of me—”
~~~~
“Let go of me!”
The words tear out of my throat as I jolt awake. My neck aches, and my throat feels way too dry.
Thank God it was just a nightmare.
Except it’s a nightmare I actually lived through.
My heart is pounding so hard I am almost sure it’s going to break through my ribs and burst out of my chest. My whole body is shaking as beads of sweat trickle down my skin, soaking the sheets beneath me.
For a second, I don’t know where I am.
I take a few deep breaths. My eyes scan the room, and my brain finally registers my surroundings.
I’m still in the hospital room.
I’m not in the penthouse. Vincent isn’t here.
I’m safe.
But why does he still have such a hold on me?
I left the house. I signed the papers. So why can’t I be free of Vincent?
Slowly, the effects of whatever is running through my veins seem to wear off as pieces of what happened in the last twenty-four hours begin to flash through my mind.
I remember Dr. Iris’s mouth moving as she said something to me, but I can’t remember the words.
What on earth did she say to me that made me lose it?
What did she tell me?
I rack my brain, searching for the answer until her words come flooding back.
“You are pregnant.”
No. No, no, no.
My hand moves instinctively to my stomach, my heart still pounding heavily as a thousand and one thoughts crash into me all at once.
What happens if I have this baby?
What kind of fate would this innocent child have with Vincent’s blood running through his or her veins?
Will he or she grow up cruel like him?
Twisted like him?
Will this child grow up to only hurt people the way Vincent does?
Tears sting my eyes, threatening to fall, but I force them back. I’m done crying, and now is definitely not the time to shed tears.
Crying won’t fix this.
I could cry rivers, flood the whole world, and my problem still wouldn’t go away. I’d just end up with a pounding headache and red, puffy eyes.
And right now, I can’t afford a headache.
I need to think clearly. I need to figure out what to do.
But what is there to figure out?
There is no way in this world I’m keeping this pregnancy.
I can’t do this.
There’s no way I’m keeping this baby.
No way.
I lean back against the pillow.
I can’t do this.
No, let me rephrase that.
I won’t do this.
I will not have Vincent's child. I will not carry a piece of him inside me for another day.
I will not—
“You’re finally awake.”
Dr. Iris’s soft, feminine voice pulls me out of my thoughts.
She walks over and presses a button beside me. The bed shifts, lifting me into a sitting position without me having to move an inch.
“How are you feeling? You gave us quite a scare earlier.”
Earlier. When I was screaming my lungs out and clawing at my own stomach like I was trying to tear myself apart.
Why didn't I have that kind of guts to claw Vincent’s eyes out instead?
“Can you help me schedule an abortion?” I ask, cutting straight to the point.
The shock on Dr. Iris’s face is impossible to miss.
“Sienna, I… I think you need to take some time to process—”
“No Doctor, I don't need time. I have thought about it. I have processed everything. And I want an abortion as soon as possible. Can you please make it happen?”
“Don’t you think you should talk to the father of the child before making such a decision?”
Hell no. The last time I talked to Vincent about being pregnant, I ended up living through three hellish years of marriage.
There is no way in hell I'm making that mistake again.
“There’s nothing to talk about with anybody.”
“But we need the father's—”
“He doesn’t want the baby, okay! He made it very clear to me that he wants nothing to do with me or the child. So there you have it,” I’m out of breath by the time I finish.
Dr. Iris just looks at me for a moment before she sighs like she has given up.
“The earliest we could schedule the procedure would be tomorrow,” she says quietly. “But before we can do anything, we need to run some tests considering the state of your body, and that includes bloodwork, an ultrasound to confirm how far along you are, and other things like that.”
“Fine. Run whatever tests you need. But I want it done tomorrow.”
I don’t want to sit around thinking about this.
I don’t want time to change my mind.
“If the tests come back clear, then we can schedule the procedure for tomorrow afternoon. But I would advise that you—”
“Dr. Iris,” I cut in gently, “I’m making a choice. Maybe it’s the wrong one. Maybe it’s the right one. But it’s my choice. And I need you to respect that.”
She takes a breath, then lets it out slowly.
“Okay,” she says. “Okay. We’ll schedule the tests for tomorrow morning, and if everything looks good, we can go ahead in the evening.”
I nod.
My whole body feels lighter, even though I’m lying in a hospital bed with broken ribs and a concussion.
Because by tomorrow evening, it’ll all be over.
The pregnancy will be gone.
Along with anything that ties me to that monster.
- Writer
