Bad Bitches Anonymous (BBA)

The Hardest Goodbye

Hope Women’s Clinic, Los Angeles

March 22nd, 2023 — 9:14 AM

Sitting alone in that sterile, cheerless waiting room, my fingers nervously twisted the edge of my sweatshirt. The walls, painted an institutional beige, felt suffocating. An old television mounted in the corner played muted daytime soaps, and pamphlets about birth control and post-abortion counseling sat untouched on cheap, laminated tables.

Every woman around me wore the same look, a mask of uncertainty, fear, shame, and quiet resolve. No one made eye contact; we existed separately, yet together, sharing a silent, unspoken bond. The receptionist, sympathetic yet professional, called my name softly, snapping me back to reality.

"Ava?" she repeated gently, motioning me to the back.

My heart pounded fiercely as I stood, walking numbly toward the clinic’s inner corridor. Everything felt surreal, heavy. The nurse, a soft-spoken woman with kind, compassionate eyes, took my vitals carefully, quietly reassuring me that I was safe.

“It’ll be quick,” she murmured, offering a comforting smile as I trembled slightly. “We’ll get you through this.”

They ushered me into a small, cold room. A paper sheet covered a worn examination table. I shivered as I removed my pants and underwear, pulling a thin medical gown around me. My body felt vulnerable, exposed. My legs trembled as I climbed onto the table, heart racing uncontrollably.

The doctor, an older woman whose voice was soothing yet clinical, entered swiftly, offering polite words that blurred together. She explained the procedure, gently guiding my feet into stirrups, instructing me to slide to the edge of the table. A wave of humiliation washed over me as I lay exposed, cold metal instruments rattling softly.

“You’ll feel some pressure, a pinch,” she warned softly. “Take slow breaths.”

The initial pinch felt sharp, invasive, more painful emotionally than physically. But soon, the real discomfort began—a pulling sensation deep inside, accompanied by a harsh, mechanical sound that filled the small room, echoing loudly in my ears.

My body tensed, tears silently trickling down my cheeks. The physical pain was brief, intense yet fleeting, but emotionally, I felt like something essential was being ripped from my very soul. I bit my lip hard, choking back quiet sobs, gripping the edge of the table tightly.

“It’s almost over, Ava,” the doctor murmured gently. “You’re doing great.”

Minutes felt like hours. When it finally ended, she cleaned me carefully, her gentle hands a stark contrast to the trauma I’d just endured. Nauseous, shaky, and hollow, I dressed quickly, avoiding the mirror above the sink, unable to face myself.

“You’ll experience some cramping,” she reminded softly. “Rest. Take it easy.”

I nodded numbly, desperate to escape the suffocating sterility of the clinic, desperate to run from what I'd just done.

Clinic Parking Lot, Los Angeles

10:45 AM

Outside, sunlight burned harshly against my swollen eyes. Jenna, a close friend from my nursing days, waited patiently, her expression tender yet cautious as she opened her car door.

“You okay?” she asked gently, knowing the answer already.

I slid weakly into the passenger seat, exhausted. “Just take me home, please.”

“Of course,” she whispered softly, squeezing my hand gently before pulling away. “I’ve got you, Ava.”

Ava and Jordan’s Home — Master Bedroom

12:15 PM

Back home, I collapsed gratefully into bed, the painkillers Jenna had forced into my hand beginning to ease the sharp cramps gripping my lower abdomen. I drifted between restless sleep and lingering consciousness, haunted by visions of what could’ve been, tormented by guilt.

The vibration of my phone jarred me awake again. Groggily, I reached over, squinting at the screen, my heart quickening at Austin’s name. But as I opened the text, the world dropped out beneath me.

I'm sorry Ava, but I can’t see you anymore. I wish you the best, but you’re not who I love anymore. Karoline is.

My heart shattered instantly, a wave of disbelief flooding me. I hit call immediately, my hands shaking violently. Straight to voicemail. I dialed again—again voicemail. It didn’t take long to realize I’d been blocked.

“You son of a b***h,” I hissed angrily, voice trembling with rage and heartbreak.

Fueled by pain, I tried to stand quickly, but a sharp, agonizing cramp ripped through my lower abdomen, forcing me back onto the bed. Tears streamed uncontrollably down my cheeks, angry curses escaping my lips as I pounded the mattress weakly.

“You f*****g i***t, Ava,” I whispered harshly to myself. “Look at the mess you made. You lost everything for nothing.”

My anger dissolved quickly into raw, painful grief. I curled into a tight ball beneath the covers, weeping bitterly for the child I would never know, the man I loved desperately, and the life I’d carelessly destroyed.

The Lake View Hotel Los Angeles, Penthouse Suite 161

Saturday, August 23rd, 2025 — 6:30 AM



The room was dead silent, tears openly streaming down several faces. Finally, Keisha spoke. “Damn, Ava…girl, I’m sorry. Nobody deserves that.”

Camille wiped a tear gently from her cheek. “The hardest choices often leave the deepest scars.”

I nodded slowly, my throat tight, barely able to speak. “I never imagined it would hurt that badly physically, emotionally. It nearly destroyed me.”

Toni leaned forward, her voice gentle and genuine. “And Austin never spoke to you again after that?”

I sighed deeply, pain raw. “At that point, I thought I’d lost him for good.”

Latrixa shook her head, anger flashing protectively in her eyes. “He chose the wrong moment to abandon you. I don’t care what the circumstances were nobody deserves to be treated like that.”

Camille exhaled slowly, regaining composure. “This is what happens when love gets complicated. We hurt each other, deeply, even when we don’t mean to.”