She got caught red-handed
1132 Words
CATANIA
Her smile slowly faded. Her gaze dropped to my stomach, then snapped back up to my face with confusion.
She didn't even know I was pregnant.
I run my hands through my hair.
“Yes. I'm pregnant, Donna,” I whispered.
Her eyes widened as she covered her mouth.
"P-P-Pregnant? What pregnant? You? Since when? With whose baby? You have a boyfriend? Why didn't you tell me? Who–”
"Please, don't ask me that right now," I begged as tears slipped down my cheek. I grip the edge of the table so hard. "I can't tell you who it is and I can't think about how it happened. All I know is that my life is entirely in ruins, my mom is one breakdown away from losing her mind, and I cannot have this baby. I just can't, Donna. Please, help me."
She reached across the table again, trying to catch my downcast gaze. "But... an abortion? Are you sure? You've always wanted to be a mom eventually, and–"
"That was before my dad was killed!" I hissed. My voice cracked as I fought to keep from making a scene in the quiet cafe. "That was before we lost our home, before we became dependent on... on cha-charity. I have nothing to give a child right now. Nothing but a legacy of debt and trauma."
She watched me as the panic was written on my face. She knows me well, so she knows I'm serious right now, desperate, and drowning.
She took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay, okay, if this is what you really want, if you're sure... I won't let you go through it alone. I’ll help you find a clinic."
I let out a breath of relief, but it was immediately followed by that same pang of guilt in my chest.
I’m really going to do it… I’m going to end it.
"But you have to promise me one thing," she added as her grip tightened on my hand. "You have to be sure. Once it's done, you can't take it back. Can your conscience handle this?"
I looked away, staring out the window at the gray morning light. My chest tightened because my conscience was already a battlefield.
I didn't know if I could survive the guilt, but as I thought of my mother and Rafael, I knew that I couldn't keep this child. It was made of mistakes in the past and shouldn't be out in this world
"I don't have a choice," I whispered.
Donna didn't ask any more questions that might trigger my anxiety even more. She drove me to a private clinic, where she knew a doctor who could perform such procedures.
The scent of antiseptic hit me the moment we stepped through the clinic doors. Donna stepped up to the reception desk and handled everything while I stood beside her. I watched her clip a stack of forms to a plastic board and fill out my personal information, checking boxes that would decide the fate of life inside me.
Every stroke of her pen felt like a ticking clock and a suffocating hesitation began to bloom in my chest, but I stubbornly bit my lower lip.
I didn't want to admit it, not to her, and definitely not to myself but… I'm scared.
I'm scared of the procedure.
I'm scared of the outcome.
I'm scared that I killed my supposed first child.
I know she or he will hate me for doing this and I will carry that hatred for the rest of my life.
A nurse called my name, and led us into a small consultation room. The doctor was an older woman with kind eyes. She sat across from us, reviewing the charts for a few seconds before looking up directly at me.
"Before we discuss the scheduling, I need to walk you through the reality of the procedure," the doctor gently but firmly said.
I slowly nodded as she detailed the process. She explained the medical options, what would happen during the procedure, the physical cramping, and the emotional aftermath I would face once it was over. I listened intently and every word carved a deeper hole in my stomach.
The doctor leaned forward and rested her hands on the desk. “It's a safe procedure, but it is irreversible. I need to ask you, for the last time... is this what you want to do?"
I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked down at my small stomach. It’s still a fetus. It has not formed into a baby yet. No legs, no arms, no eyes, no mouth…
Oh, God.
"Y-Yes," I whispered as my hands trembled and couldn't meet her gaze.
“Are you absolutely certain? No one is forcing you into this decision?” she repeated.
I let out a deep breath and nodded. "I'm certain.”
Even as the word left my mouth, my heart violently protested.
I looked at Donna, who was quietly watching me worriedly. She was ready to back me up, no matter what. But the closer the moment came, the more the hesitation clawed at my throat, threatening to expose the war raging inside my soul.
The doctor sighed softly. She pulled a calendar toward her and picked up her pen.
"Alright, since you're still early in your first trimester, we can schedule the surgical procedure for tomorrow morning at 8. You need to arrive an hour early to prep, and your friend here will need to stay to drive you home."
"Tomorrow," I breathed.
Why does it feel like it's my death sentence? It was happening so fast.
The doctor wrote the time down on a small appointment card and handed it to me. "Fast after midnight tonight. No food or water, and please... use tonight to rest your mind. If you change your mind at any point before the anesthesia, you just have to say the word."
I took the card and slid it deep into my hoodie pocket.
Donna thanked the doctor as we both stood up to leave. My chest was so heavy I could barely lift my feet and my mind was screaming at me, a blur of my father’s face, my mother’s tears, and the horror of what I was about to do tomorrow morning.
I hold the cold metal handle of the office door. I took a deep breath, bracing myself to step back into the real world and pushed the door open.
But my soul instantly froze.
Someone standing behind the door, freezing his hand just inches away from grasping the very same door handle.
“Ra-Rafael?”
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