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Chapter Eight
ARIA
Two weeks isn’t nearly enough time to fade back into some sort of sense of normalcy, and yet I try. Try my damndest to make sure I’m moving on and not staying stuck in the depths that I went through. Every night my dreams are haunting me of the awful things I went through, and every day I have to force a smile on my face and tell myself to snap out of it. I wanted to die while I was there. For so long I didn’t think anyone would be coming for me, and they didn’t. The only person I could rely on was myself, and somehow my will to live was stronger than wanting to end my life.
I stare at the brick that plasters the wall of the clinic the mob uses. All known associates are to come here instead of anyone else, out of fear that another would report injuries to the police. Especially gunshot wounds. In this world we can’t trust anyone, not even our own families. He’s already taken my blood and conducted a urinalysis, even completed a physical. He instructed me to sit tight in this damn chair so that is what I am doing, following instructions like the good girl we all know I am to be.
The door to the exam room flies open, and my doctor stares at me, “Aria, you are pregnant.” I could laugh, but I knew this was a possibility. I was never on any birth control because I was saving myself for my future husband, as I was supposed to do. What a joke that was. What a fucking joke.
“Alright. Schedule me for an abortion,” I say, hopping off the table. I grab my purse off of the chair. As I turn back, I see the disapproving look that spreads across his face. “What’s the matter?” My tone comes out saltier than I intend, but I’m pissed. Obviously there’s some sort of problem here.
“I can’t just schedule you for an abortion.”
I pull my purse up my shoulder and stare at him, crossing my arms. “Why’s that?”
“You need approval from your father before I can do such a thing, because you are unwed...I must have approval from him. It is a sacred rule that I cannot break.”
I scoff, not giving a damn. This is ludicrous. It’s twenty-nineteen. No one should be in charge on what happens to my body besides me. I went through hell and back, and my physician wants to obtain approval from my father to abort this…demon spawn. I’m sure some will judge me for saying that. I can’t blame them for wanting to, but that’s what this thing is inside me. It’s the offspring of men who chose to hit and rape a woman for weeks and weeks on end. Made from purely evil actions. My body betrayed me, and here I am, pregnant with this thing inside me. I just want it to go away, to blink my eyes and hope it will disappear into thin air, but I know better. The only way I can be rid of it is when a physician completes the procedure, and it will happen. One way or another, I will make sure that it does, even if that means going to someone who doesn’t work with the mob.
I may just have to go to someone who we don’t trust, but it’s better than the alternative. To do nothing and stare into the face of a child every day who I resent, not because of it…but because of how it was created. I would be a shit mother, and I know that.
I want to be a mother someday, but that day is not today. Not like this. When I have a child it will be conceived out of love, its father being there for me in every sense of the word.
I nod once, showing the doctor that I understand what he’s saying. “Thanks,” I murmur, not truly meaning what I say. I just need to get out of here and make some calls and that’s exactly what I do. As soon as I’m out on the street I make a few phone calls until I can find someone who is willing to perform an abortion. I schedule it for as soon as possible. I feel sick, like there is some parasitic worm growing inside of me. I can’t bare to look in the mirror or even think about it…I just want it to go away, and soon it will.
Maybe tomorrow I may be able to live with myself.
