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Mason must sense someone watching because his head lifts and his bloodshot eyes blink trying to focus on me. He is drunk and high. He tries to stand in place with his shirt half on but is swaying. The stabbing pain in my heart feels like it is being sliced open with a saw.
His face falls when he notices me, but he leans over, trying to balance himself. My breaths pump out hard, the air not reaching my lungs fast enough. Tears cling to my lashes, cresting before falling down my cheeks as I turn and bolttoward the garage to get inside my car and leave without my brother witnessing my reaction.
When I drive out the gate of the house, my car’s Bluetooth notifies me I have an incoming call from Aiden.I press the green answer button and take a deep breath so my voice doesn’tgive away the fact that I am sobbing.
“Hello,” I croak.
“Lucy, are you okay? I saw you jet from the hallway. I was in thedownstairs bedroom.”
“Ye-yeah, I’m fine.” I hear giggling in the background and lower the volume.
“Oh, if you come back, avoid going into the pool house.”
I swallow thickly, tears clogging my throat. “Yeah, no problem,” Imanage to say without my voice breaking.
Don’t worry, I won’t make that mistake ever again. I just saw the guy I’m in love with having a threesome with the girl I can’t stand while I’m pregnant with his baby. I’m done. This is the last time Mason gets to hurt me. I have silently watched the guy I have been secretly in love with parade around with different girls and when I finally tell him how I feel and fall hopelessly in love with him, he breaks me.
“Where are you going?”
I think of the lamest excuse, but it will have to do. “I wanted some ice cream from The Ice Cream Parlor.”
“Okay. Well, don’t stay out too lateall by yourself.”
“Okay. Bye.” A sob escapes my throat as I end the call.
I’m crying so hard that my stomach protests. Violent sobs rack my body uncontrollably. I park the car and lay my head against the steering wheel, shedding my tears. My body shakes violently as I sob from the pain inside my heart.
“He couldn’t wait,” I say out loud. “He did itin my house. Fucking bastard. I fucking hate you, Mason,” I scream.
My stomach cramps, and I look down at my jeans.
I blink and wipe my face, hoping my eyes are playing tricks on me. Patches of blood stain my jeans. A lot of blood. I snatch the sonogram picture of the baby from my purse.
“No, angel,” I plead before putting the picture back inside my leather handbag with shaky fingers.
I find the nearest hospital on my GPS andfloor the car onto the highway,gritting my teeth through the wave of cramps shooting from my stomach to my lower back.
Please,God. Don’t do this to me.
Walking out of the emergency room still in pain, my tears continue to fall over the worst news any pregnant woman can hear from a doctor. “You’re suffering from a miscarriage.”
The same day I find out the best gift in the world is living inside of me, I find out that gift is now dying.
I wrap the hospital gown closer over my bloodied jeans so that people don’t think I committed a murder. The nurse allowed me to keep it since I didn’t have anything else to change into. They gave me something for the pain, but the doctor said that I needed to have someone watch over me to make sure I don’t get a fever as my body expels everything.
They asked if I wanted a D&C and I refused. It would have required me to call someone to pick me up, and that wasn’t an option. No one can know what happened and I don’t plan on telling anyone about the pain I’m suffering. My brother will kill Mason if my father doesn’t get to him first.
After enduring the loss of the baby and what I witnessed, I know I will never look at Mason the same again.
He saw me at the door of the pool house, but he didn’t run after me. Not that he cared. He probably thought it was for the best. The nail in the coffin of what we could have been. How could he do this to me?
The doctorasked if I was stressed or depressed. He said an emotional event could trigger a miscarriage or my body couldn’t handle it at such a young age. I lied and told him that nothing was wrong. That I was happy and that the father was happy.
Another cramp goes through my body as I drive through the gate of the home I now hate. The beautiful white house with its manicured lawn and impressive oak door represents the best and worst memories, reminding me of what I had and what Ilost. I’m relieved to see that Mason and Colton’s cars are not here. My phone vibrates from a missed text. It’s from Mason.
Mason: I’m soriey.
I ignore the text like it’s a spam callerandtoss the cell phonein my purse.I know he was on something or just drunk. He can’t even send a legible text. He’s sorry?What a prick. Now, I know what the fine line between love and hate means and I’m leaning more toward the hate.
