Tragic Love (BOOK 2)

by Brannon, M.

  I follow her down a hallway lined with doors on both where the florescent light illuminates the hall. I keep my eyes firmly plastered to the back of the nurse’s head; not daring to look around.

  I feel like I am walking to my doom. As though, when I round the corner then step inside a room, a hooded man will be standing behind a table, holding a scalpel, ready to hack me to pieces.

  She opens a door and stands to the side, allowing me to walk in. I hesitate slightly, trying to get my legs to move forward, instantly angry my body is malfunctioning against everything my mind has planned out.

  The room is small, filled with a small table and two chairs. Nothing hangs on the walls except a slotted shelf designed for holding pamphlets. The nurse grabs three brochures from the shelf and instructs me to read through each one carefully then shuts the door behind her, leaving me alone with my choices.

  Each brochure explains the three options a woman has once she discovers she’s pregnant. The first talks about having a child and gives information for a specialist who can help you adapt to being a new parent and classes you can take to teach you how to raise a baby. It is filled with pictures of happy couples snuggling with a beautiful little baby. This is bullshit. No one is this happy when they find out they’re pregnant. Life isn’t this happy unless it’s planned and let’s face it, no one who comes to this place has chosen raising their baby as an option.

  The second brochure explains the benefits of adoption and resources to get started with the adoption process. A choice I would definitely make if it were an option with Drake, but it wouldn’t be, so I’ve never given it a thought. I set it aside with the other pamphlet and stare at the last pamphlet—the real reason I am here—the explanation about abortion.

  The brochure explains in layman’s terms what will happen during the process, what I can expect in the weeks that follow and so on. As I bore my eyes into each word they all start to blend together because my eyes betray me and as the tears begin to pool. I can’t read this. I know what I’ve decided and it has to be that way in order for me to survive. I start to take deep breaths and blink back the tears. I need to get out of this room. The walls start to close in on me and I feel like at any moment I am going to suffocate. I need air. I need to breathe.

  Moments later, the nurse walks in and asks me if I am sure about my initial decision. She is holding a cup of water and a small white pill. “This will start the process and your body will begin to reject the fetus. The pill will take about two hours to work, you will start to feel cramping in your abdomen, similar to menstrual cramps then they will intensify slightly. After that time we will take you back and finish the procedure.” She starts to leave and I look at the small paper cup with the white pill sitting on the table.

  Once I swallow this, there is no going back. The baby will die and I will have to be forced to live with this secret for the rest of my life. My stomach lurches into my throat. I know I can’t fight this down. I ask for the restroom, stuffing the pill in my pocket and taking the water with me. The nurse leads me down a small corridor and I barely make it to the toilet before I throw up. Violently, my body rejects everything holding in my stomach stealing my breath as well. I flush the toilet, wash my face and hands and then open the door to the waiting nurse. I look to my right and see fresh air on the other side of the door. I need to get out of here and clear my head.

  “Umm…can I sit out there while I wait?” I ask with pleading eyes.

  “Did you take the pill? Because I can’t let you leave the building with it.” The nurse informs.

  “Yes,” I lie. She nods her head and tells me to be back inside in a few minutes to get my vitals checked and proceed to the next step.

  I make a mad dash to the door, allowing it to slam against the brick at side of the building where additional parking is available. There is a dirty, wooden picnic table flush to the building with a nurse sitting at the edge engrossed in a novel as she smokes a cigarette. The metal pail in the middle of the table is filled with sand and discarded cigarette butts. It smells like ash and dirty feet outside, but it’s better than suffocating in that tiny room for one more second.

  I walk to the edge of the building and lean against the warm brick, knowing that I have a decision to make and that it’s now or never. The air is heavy with humidity, but my body is cold with the guilt plaguing my mind, so I close my eyes and let the heat warm my cold skin. The goosebumps growing over my skin start to subside, yet the decision growing on my shoulders is as heavy as a tank. I had my mind completely made up when I left the house today, but when I looked at the small white pill in my hand, I froze; my mind screams to stop and my body says run. I search through the images of my future, watching my life flash before my eyes in slow motion in my head. He is not there. I know if he found out that I ever had an abortion Drake would leave me and every instinct in my body is agreeing with that thought. Is it a risk I am willing to take?

  Opening my eyes, I look around and try to find anything peaceful. I look for a glimpse of hope in this Godforsaken town before I swallow the pill I’m holding in my shaky hand. I look down one end of the street, noticing a group of thugs tormenting a bum passed out next to a dumpster. The tears start to pool in my eyes as I witness everything that Sulfur Heights represents, but I keep them contained.

  When I look to the opposite end of the street a black car is driving fast, closing in on the clinic. I know instantly it’s him, the man who gives me the very will to live every single day. Drake fishtails into the parking lot, leaving black marks on the pavement, burnt rubber in the air and the screaming sound of his tires as he makes a sudden stop.

  He exits the car, slamming the door in the process and stalks to the front of the car, but doesn’t take another step. His eyes are burning with rage. The veins in his arms are pushed to the top layer of his skin as he flexes his adrenaline filled hands in and out. I know immediately his heart is broken. Looking into his eyes, maybe I was wrong. He will leave me no matter what I decide.

  Chapter 6

  Drake

  I am tearing up the street, breaking twenty traffic laws to make it in time to stop her from making a huge mistake. She would never be able to live with herself if she went through with this, and in all honestly, I don’t know if I could ever look at her the same if she did. Yes, raising a baby is going to be hard work, but getting the abortion is the pussy way out and as long as I’m walking on this earth, I will never allow her to do it.

  I know how it feels to be thrown out by the one person who’s supposed to exhibit an undying love for you. My mother proved that heroin was more important than I was, and from a very young age, I swore to myself I would never do that to my own child. Presley and I have had conversations about this topic which leaves me completely confused as to why she would go behind my back to have an abortion.

  The air conditioner is on full blast, but it does nothing to cool down the raging inferno in my body. The closer I get to the clinic, the more disgusted and restless I feel. I only pray I make it to the clinic in time. The traffic on Luther Boulevard seems to understand my need to hurry as the cars veer to the other lane, allowing me to speed past them. I’m approaching the clinic and a solitary red light is stopping me from pulling into the parking lot. Making a snap decision, I look quickly to each side and stomp on the gas pedal, flying through the light. The Chevelle accelerates and the motor roars loudly as it passes cars. I swerve to the left lane and quickly turn into the parking lot, causing the back end of the Chevelle to swing. That’s when I spot her.

  Presley is leaning against the brick with the most haunted look masking her face. It’s a look I’ve never seen her wear, not even when she was healing from being held captive by Robert Stein. She knows. The look is telling me she knew the consequence to our relationship if she followed through with the abortion and yet she still did it. I’m furious. How could she do this to me…to us? My body is rigid and tight and sweating from the anger. Never once in my life have I ever felt this
way; completely betrayed and broken by the one person who holds my soul.

  I exit the car and move to the hood. I can’t go any further, I’m afraid of what I will do or say knowing she just killed our baby. The tears she has been trying so hard to keep in are now free falling down her cheeks. Then the most gut wrenching sob breaks past her lips and her legs weaken as she tumbles to the ground. I lift my foot to run to her. I could never handle watching Presley cry, but I make myself stop. I can’t hold her knowing what she’s done.

  I force my feet to remain planted on the cement as my rage continues to burn. The silence between us is shattering, but I refuse to say anything to her. I don’t know if I will ever be able to say anything to her again. Wait, I take that back, I will let her know exactly how I feel. She deserves to know how much she fucked up.

  I move past the Chevelle and walk to stand in front of her. She’s still crumpled on the ground, hugging her knees to her chest, but the sobs have softened to faint whimpers. I lock my arms across my chest, fisting them tightly into my sides. “Tell me why,” I seethe through gritted teeth.

  Presley slowly makes it to her feet, but keeps her eyes locked to the cement. “I…I’m so sorry.”

  “Save it!” I cut her off. “I don’t want to hear how sorry you are, Presley. I want to know WHY!” I don’t keep my voice controlled anymore. It’s physically impossible. The nurse sitting at the table puts down her book and takes a slow drag of her cigarette. She’s eyeing me suspiciously, but when I snap my eyes to hers she relents and picks up her book, pretending to hear nothing.

  “I don’t want to hurt you; that was never my intention. You have to believe that.” She is sobbing again as my face remains stone cold.

  “Believe what? If you’ve proven anything to me it’s that you’re a liar.” I keep my shaking hands locked under my arms, still too angry to step any closer to her. “And I don’t give a shit about your intentions. Because you were wrong. This is wrong, Presley, and you know that.”

  I take a second to look at her, my eyes traveling from her tear stained face to her arms wrapped around her stomach and down to her shaking legs. This is the woman I’ve given my whole self to; the one person who has the only claim to my soul, and it feels like it’s slipping away from me. This has been a turning point in our relationship. If I can’t move past the betrayal I’m feeling inside me, then the only thing left for us is to face the end. The emptiness fills me at the thought of not having Presley in my arms every day. I’m feeling the anger begin to fade as the pain courses through my veins.

  Presley finally meets my eyes; they are blood shot and broken. She whispers, “Because I can’t. I can’t be a mother, Drake. I don’t possess anything that would characterize me as a good mother. Every day is still a struggle for me to even function and if it weren’t for you I don’t think I could make it. There is nothing this baby will fix. And at our age, it’s impossible to raise a baby, especially here.”

  Standing defeated, I lower my arms and grab onto her shoulders. Her body is still trembling from the severity of our situation. I connect my eyes with hers and I fall. With a simple look, I’m diving head first into her brown pools. Something I do every single time she pleads with me to understand. “But how could you do this without even telling me?” I ask, not hiding the sadness in my voice. “You know exactly how I feel about this. My birth mother did the same thing to me and now you are doing it, too. How could you throw something away without even giving it a chance?”

  She takes a hesitant step forward and starts to wrap her arms around my waist, something she always does to feel protected by me, but I don’t allow it. I keep my hands on her shoulders and take a step back, keeping my distance. The sobbing starts again, making me think she knows exactly what she’s done and exactly how I feel because it’s written all over her face and mine. God knows I love her; I love her more than the air I breathe, although nothing is going to change the deceit she so obviously used against my heart.

  My hands start to move down from her shoulders then slide down her quivering arms as she begins to cry again. I can feel the anger and hurt bubble up into my eyes, yet I reject the idea of letting it fall. I refuse to show her how she’s broken me into nothing. Sliding my hands down to hers, I give them a gentle squeeze then step away from her. Presley’s eyes meet mine, but I can’t look at them anymore. I need time away from her and away from this entire fucked up mess. The pain in my body and the brokenness in her eyes are too much to bear right now.

  “I can’t do this,” I tell her then turn to my Chevelle and drive away.

  ***

  It’s been two hours since my Chevelle pulled into The Slab, two hours since my world was sucked into an alternate universe. The agony is screaming its way through my veins and feeding on my broken heart. The only thing I can think of to numb the pain is to get mind-alteringly drunk, and after two hours, I’ve succeeded. I’ve never been one to drown myself in booze to ease the pain living in my body, but I now see the reason why so many people I know do it. The heartache is excruciating; I want to feel nothing. I want to feel numb.

  Reggie and Darcie have been staring at me since I arrived two hours ago. Reggie said nothing when I slammed fifty bucks on the counter, reached over the bar, grabbed a full bottle of Jack from the assortment of liquor tucked in the metal pocket behind the bar, and then retreated to the back corner booth, shrugging myself against the cool vinyl seats. I just want to be alone with my hurt and the whiskey.

  The bar is pretty secluded this time of day. It’s only me and a couple of regulars, but as soon as the factories change shifts, the bar will fill up pretty fast. By that time, I’m hoping to be completely numb and passed out in the front seat of my Chevelle. I have nowhere else to go. I can’t go home. I can’t face her because that would mean I need to face the reality of our situation and I simply can’t do that right now.

  I tip my head back and allow the whiskey to burn down my throat as it warms my belly and makes my head spin. When I feel the hurt try to escape my eyes, I don’t allow it, taking another long guzzle from the bottle. It runs out the corners of my mouth and down over my chin. The burn is making its way back up my throat, but I choke it down then wipe the drops away with the back of my hand.

  I can barely keep my eyes open as the whiskey intoxicates my body. I must have started to pass out because, when I lift my head from the table, I see Reggie is standing next to it. His arms are crossed over his chest and his face is unreadable. This is the same look he has been giving us for years; where he demands answers without even saying a word. I’m sure my behavior is questionable right now,considering this is something I’ve never done—drowning my problems in whiskey like Jake does—so I can’t evade this look and the questions that follow. In my drunken state, though, I will try. I’m not ready to tell anyone what Presley’s done to me.

  “What’s up, Reggie? Do you want a shot?” I ask, trying to keep the anger from my voice.

  “No,” Reggie states calmly, waiting for me to start spilling my guts, but I refuse.

  “Then what the fuck do you want because you’re standing over me and it’s starting to piss me off.” Through my hazy vision I can see his body go rigid. I’ve never talked to Reggie like this and I can tell instantly he’s ready to punch me.

  He readjusts his weight on this feet and my blood begins to boil as well. Reggie is one intimidating son of a bitch, even now, when I stand almost as tall as he does. I know exactly what he’s capable of and he’s shown me his strength everyday as we spar with one another in the garage. We’ve had this routine ever since Grady knocked me out over two years ago. Right now, though, all he is doing is pissing me off, and as much as I love and respect Reggie, I will fuck him up just to get him out of my face. What’s going on now is none of his business. It’s mine and I’m man enough to take care of it. I don’t need him to intervene.

  “Start talking, Drake, before Darcie takes you home.” Reggie’s voice is cold and demanding. I’m not sure if it’
s the whiskey or the shitty day I’ve had, but all I can feel is the boiling rage in my blood and how I want to take out that rage.

  I slap my hands on the table, causing the half full bottle of Jack Daniels to teeter and then make the attempt to stand. The anger of the last couple of hours is growing to an enormous beast inside me. I need to unleash it and it’s going to be on Reggie’s face because he simply wouldn’t leave me alone.

  I meet his eye and then everything inside me explodes. With my right hand I swing viciously at his face, but he ducks then his fist comes straight to my midsection. Fucker! He fucking hit me. I pull back and take another swing, but Reggie quickly deflects my fist away.

  Darcie comes around the bar and is now standing between us. Words are leaving her mouth, but nothing registers. Reggie spins me around, pinning my arms behind my back as I try to will all my strength to fight against him, however my body is too sluggish. That’s my eyes focus to the light shining through the entrance and Presley standing just inside the door.

  Presley

  Watching Drake drive away from me breaks the last piece of my fractured heart. I knew he would react this way. I knew it would kill him inside knowing what I’ve done, but to witness your only lifeline peel down the road and drive away from you is heartbreaking. There is no other word to describe it.

  The nurse who was sitting at the picnic table finally gets up to intervene, but she’s too late and so am I. I wave her off and then start to run. My feet can’t move quickly enough as I run through the cars parked in the lot and down toward the sidewalk. I have to run. I need to escape what I’ve done because Drake left and regardless of the decision I have to make the truth is he left me. If I keep the baby, will he come back? Or will I be left alone? I can’t be here another second. The tears are pouring from my eyes as my feet are pounding against the sidewalk.