It had been two days since I found out the news. Two long, sleepless nights of tossing and turning, thinking of nothing but the tiny life growing inside me.
After countless tears and a battle with my own thoughts, I finally made a decision. I was going to terminate the pregnancy.
That morning, I moved as if in a trance, my body going through the motions while my mind remained numb. I dressed quickly, barely noticing the clothes I pulled on, and headed straight to the hospital.
The city seemed unusually quiet, the morning sun casting long shadows across the streets as I walked. My heart was pounding, but my steps were steady, determined.
As I made my way to the hospital, I pulled out my phone, my fingers trembling slightly as I typed a message to Ray. The words appeared on the screen, cold and detached, like they belonged to someone else:
“I already know the kind of person you are, but I feel it’s right to let you know. I found out I was pregnant a few days ago. You don’t have to worry about responsibility because I’m presently in the hospital to get rid of the baby.”
With a deep breath, I hit send. A moment later, I blocked his number. There would be no more calls, no more messages. It was done.
The hospital loomed ahead of me, its large glass doors reflecting the bright morning light. I stepped inside, feeling the cold, sterile air wrap around me like a shroud.
The receptionist greeted me with a forced smile, her eyes scanning the paperwork before handing me a clipboard. I filled out the forms in silence, the pen shaking in my hand as I signed my name at the bottom.
Once everything was in order, I was led to a small, dimly lit room where the doctor explained the procedure. His voice was calm, almost too calm, as if he had done this a hundred times before. He reassured me repeatedly, telling me it was a simple process, that I would feel no pain. I nodded along, barely hearing his words.
My mind was elsewhere, somewhere far away from this cold, clinical room.
When the nurse came to take me to the operating room, I felt my legs wobble.
The hallway stretched out in front of me like a tunnel, the lights flickering overhead as we walked. The sound of our footsteps echoed off the walls, loud and ominous.
I wanted to run, to turn back, but my body kept moving forward, as if it was on autopilot.
In the operating room, everything was bright-too bright.
The harsh fluorescent lights buzzed above me as I was guided onto the cold, metal table. The smell of antiseptic filled my nostrils, making me feel nauseous. My heart pounded in my chest as the nurse prepared the IV drip, her hands moving with practiced precision.
But then, as the needle approached my arm, something shifted inside me. A small voice, barely a whisper at first, began to grow louder. It echoed in my mind, telling me not to do this, to stop. I tried to ignore it, to push it away, but the voice grew stronger, more insistent.
Just as the nurse brought the syringe closer, I thought I saw something-or someone-behind her. A child, crying softly, reaching out for me. My breath caught in my throat, and I realized it wasn’t just my imagination. It was the future I was about to erase.
“Stop,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. The nurse didn’t hear me, her focus on the task at hand.
“Stop!” I said again, louder this time. Panic surged through me, and I yanked my arm away, pulling out the IV drip.
The sudden movement sent the stand crashing to the floor, the clatter echoing through the room.
The nurse froze, shock flickering in her eyes. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice filled with confusion.
“I don’t want to go through with it anymore,” I said, my voice trembling but firm. “I’ll keep the baby.”
For a moment, everything was still. The nurse and the doctor exchanged glances, clearly unsure of what to do. But I didn’t care. I had made up my mind. I slid off the table, my legs shaking as I stood, but I held my ground.
“I’m leaving,” I said, more to myself than anyone else. And with that, I walked out of the operating room, my heart racing, but my mind finally clear.
I made my way to the changing room, my hands trembling as I hurriedly put on my clothes. It felt like I was being chased, like something unseen was urging me to get out as quickly as possible.
The sterile smell of the hospital clung to my clothes, but I ignored it, focusing only on getting out of there. I didn’t want to be in that place for another second.
As soon as I stepped outside, the fresh air hit my face, but it did little to calm the storm brewing inside me. I walked quickly, almost running, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps.
The streets blurred around me, and I barely noticed anything as I made my way home. All I could think about was what had just happened, what I had almost done.
By the time I got home, I saw Kate standing at the entrance, her face tight with worry. She must have been waiting for me, her arms crossed as she paced back and forth. The moment she saw me, she ran towards me, wrapping me in a tight hug.
“You left the house so early without telling me! You got me worried!” she said, her voice a mix of relief and frustration.
I held on to her, feeling the warmth of her embrace. But as she pulled back to look at me, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. The weight of everything that had just happened came crashing down on me.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her eyes scanning my face for answers.
I tried to speak, but the words caught in my throat. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Yes… I went to the hospital,” I began, my voice shaky. “I wanted to terminate the pregnancy, but… but I couldn’t.”
As the words left my mouth, the tears I had been holding back finally broke free. “I couldn’t bring myself to do it,” I sobbed, my body shaking as I cried into Kate’s shoulder.
Kate held me close, not saying anything, just letting me cry. Her hand stroked my back gently, and for a moment, I felt like a small child again, seeking comfort in a world that felt too big and too cruel.
“It’s okay,” she whispered softly, her voice soothing. “You did what you felt was right. That’s what matters.”
But even as she spoke, I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. The relief of making a decision was there, but so was the overwhelming fear of what lay ahead. I clung to Kate, feeling utterly lost, but at least, in that moment, I wasn’t alone.