Chapter Seven
1246 Words
**Natasha's POV**
She said she knew what to do, and I trusted her because she is my friend, and we always look out for each other.
She stood up, paced the living room for a few seconds, hesitated for a second, then said slowly. “We will get rid of it. You don’t have to go through with this.”
My eyes widened in shock. “Babe… you mean… an abortion?”
She nodded slightly. “Yes, and I know someone. A doctor. He’s discreet and won’t tell anyone.”
I felt my chest tighten, not sure if it was fear or relief. “I… I don’t know, Ashley. Is it… safe?”
She sighed: “It’s safe enough. And it’s better than ruining your life over a man you don’t even know. Trust me.”
My hands trembled slightly as I fiddled with the edge of my bag. “And you think this doctor will… help?”
She gave me a small, confident smile: “Yes. I’ll take you there myself.”
I reached out and held her hand. “Listen, this is the best way. We’ll handle it quietly, and no one will ever know.”
There was a heavy silence between us, the only sound was coming from the ticking wall clock.
Finally, she squeezed my hand and leaned closer.
“Trust me…when I say I know what to do.”
She grabbed her bag and stood up, looking determined. “Come on. Let's go now before you change your mind.”
I followed her out, my stomach twisting. We walked down to where my car was parked. The air outside felt heavy. She kept talking, her voice low.
“He has handled situations like this for girls who couldn’t… you know… keep it. Don't be scared, he won’t ask questions.”
We got into my car. My hands were still shaking, and she noticed it and took over the driving. My mind was spinning with every bump in the road.
A few minutes later, we parked in front of the hospital. She turned to me and touched my arm. “This is it. Just… follow my lead, okay?”
I swallowed hard, my throat tight.
“Babe… are you sure about this?”
“Absolutely. This is the only way.”
We arrived at the hospital, and she opened the door and stepped out before I could answer. My feet felt like they were glued to the floor. I finally got out and followed her to the entrance.
The walls were painted cream, and she put an arm around my shoulder. “Just breathe.”
Inside, the hospital smelled like disinfectant. The nurse looked up from her desk.
She spoke first. “We want to see Dr. Jones.”
“Do you have an appointment with him?” the nurse asked.
“No, we don't, but you can call him. Tell him it's Ashley and it's important.”
She picked up the phone and dialed his office line and when she was done she looked at us and nodded. “Go straight in. He’s expecting you.”
We walked straight and there we saw a small sign that read Dr. Jones – Women’s Care.
We knocked and entered. An Italian man with black ,short hair, styled in slicked back, curly fashion, calm and composed in a white coat sat behind a desk, writing something. He looked up and smiled faintly.
“Ah, Ashley,” he said. “And this must be your friend.”
“Yes,” she replied. “She’s… she needs the procedure.”
He stood. “Alright, dear. Sit down. Don’t be afraid. We’ll take care of you.”
I slowly sat on the chair. “How long will it take, sir?” I asked quietly.
“Not long,” he answered. “You’ll rest here for a while afterward, and then you can go home.”
Ashley squeezed my hand. “I’ll be right here.”
Dr. Jones walked toward the inner room and gestured. “Come with me.”
My legs felt heavy as I stood up. I followed him, my heart pounding louder with each step.
Inside Dr. Jones’ Procedure Room
The room was small, cold, and quiet.
There was a narrow bed in the middle, covered with a white sheet and the small tray beside it held shiny metal instruments.
He put on gloves. “Lie down here,” he said gently.
I stood still, my hands twisting together. “I… I’m not sure…”
He looked at me. “Coming here already means you’ve made up your mind. But if you want to leave, now is the time to say it.”
My voice shook. “If I leave… I don’t know what will happen to me.”
He gave a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Then lie down. We’ll make it quick.”
I slowly climbed onto the bed. The sheet felt cold against my skin.
My breathing was shallow.
He moved closer. “You’ll feel a little pinch, then some pressure. Just close your eyes.”
He reached for a syringe and my eyes widened. “What’s that for?”
“A small injection to help you relax,” he said calmly. “It’s standard.”
He cleaned my arm with cotton and alcohol. The sharp smell made my nose sting.
The needle slid in and I winced. My head felt light within seconds and the room seemed to sway.
He spoke again, his voice now softer, almost too calm. “Good… that’s better. Just keep your eyes closed.”
I felt his hands arranging my legs. The metal stirrups were cold. My heartbeat thudded in my ears. I wanted to speak, but my tongue felt heavy.
Somewhere far away, I heard him humming under his breath. It made me uneasy.
Metal instruments clinked.
I flinched at the first touch, and he murmured, “It’s alright… stay still.”
The pressure increased. A dull ache spread through my lower belly. I gripped the sides of the bed, my nails digging into the sheet.
My breathing became quick, shallow gasps, but he kept working in silence, except for the sound of metal against metal.
Then, just for a moment, I thought I heard him whisper something under his breath—my name.
But I was sure I had never told him my name.
My eyes fluttered open. “How… how do you know my……”
“Shhh….,” he interrupted quickly, his voice firm. “Stay still. We’re almost done.”
My mind swirled with confusion, maybe Ashley told him. I wanted to ask again, but the dizziness was too strong.
A few minutes later, he stepped back. “It’s over.”
He covered me with a blanket and helped me sit up slowly.
My body felt weak. My legs trembled when I tried to stand.
He looked at me with a strange expression; half concern, half something else.
“We won’t talk about this outside these walls. Do you understand?”
I nodded faintly, unsure why his words made me feel even colder than before.
Ashley came in quickly. “Is she okay?”
“She’ll be fine,” he answered. “Just take her home. Let her rest.”
She wrapped an arm around my shoulder and led me out.
I saw the way he stared. He watched us leave, his eyes following us until the door closed.
- Writer
