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Fall To Pieces

By´╝ÜChloe Walsh



I had a decision to make. I had many to make actually. The first and possibly most important one I had already made when I placed that phone call last night. I was now hoping it was a decision that wouldn’t come back to bite me in the butt.

I rubbed the skin covering my swollen stomach and sighed. I’d been through hell and back in the past six weeks, but I’d survived, and most importantly, so had the child growing in my womb.

“You got everything you need, Lee?”

I smiled, it was a weak one, but it was all I could muster given the circumstances.

“Yes,” I replied zipping closed my duffel bag.

Mike Henderson stood in the doorway of my hospital room, tall, handsome and intimidating as hell, but offering me an escape; a temporary exit to this messed up life I had slipped into.

When I’d phoned him last night asking for a favor, it wasn’t to hurt his brother, or upset my friends. I’d just needed someone to talk to, someone who wasn’t bias and wouldn’t judge me on my poor decisions.

It hurt to think of the reasons why I was standing in a hospital room.

Losing the baby and losing Kyle all in the same night was something I didn’t like to think about, couldn’t think about.

It had been over six weeks since that night, the night my life and everything in it fell to pieces. I’d found out I was pregnant and then I wasn’t, and then I was again, all in a matter of hours.

Twins, the doctor had said. One had died, one survived. And the man I loved, the man I trusted more than anyone in this world, had betrayed me.

For the sake of my sanity, I locked away those feelings and thoughts in a box, in the darkest part of my mind, the same box I kept the memories of my father’s beatings, and the petrified feelings that had engulfed me on the night of my highschool prom, when Perry Franklin had tried to rape me.

Pretense was now my coping mechanism for carrying on, for surviving one day at a time.

So, for the past forty plus days, while I healed from the surgery and the medical team monitored my pregnancy, I’d closed off my feelings and tried to adjust to my new life.

I’d gotten a nasty infection after the surgery which had delayed my discharge by a couple of weeks, which had been a gift from god.

Well, the infection was gross and that had sucked, but the relief of having an extra few weeks before I’d to face my roommates-one roommate in particular- had sweetened the deal.

Dr. Ashcroft had warned me of the different complications and infections the baby was vulnerable to because of my intrusive surgery, but was delighted with how I was progressing.

The baby was perfect, developing exactly as he should be.

I had been offered to join a therapeutic group for teenagers who were struggling to adapt to motherhood, but I’d declined.

I was grieving the baby I’d lost, not struggling to adapt to the one I had inside of me. This sense of despair would pass. I just needed to give it time. Not talk. I didn’t want to talk, I wanted to move forward. I thought that was a pretty mature response to the U-turn my life had taken. I was allowed to be sad. No one was going to tell me I wasn’t.

I wasn’t upset about being pregnant, even though at my age, with my lack of qualifications and money, I should have been. Instead, I was excited, and terrified, in a good way, I think.

I had waited my whole life to have someone who I could love, and would love me in return. The map of my life had shifted effortlessly, and was now focused entirely on the baby growing inside me.

Even If I could never have his father, I would have my baby. Yeah, I thought I was having a boy… that was my gut feeling.

Realistically, the thought of having this baby scared me to death, let alone having a boy.

How could I raise a boy? I knew nothing about boys. Look at the man whose child I was carrying, I sure didn’t know a thing about him.

I hadn’t’ seen Kyle since Christmas Day. For once in his life, he was doing what I asked him to do; leaving me alone and that depressed me deeply.

So much had changed; so many incidences and bad choices pushed me towards my decision to call Mike to collect me today.

I hadn’t told my roommates Derek Porter, or Camryn Frey, I was coming home today. I didn’t think my pride could take their pity, and I knew they would tell Kyle. They’d kinda have to considering the four of us shared a house-Kyles house.

It was bad enough I would be returning to his house, I didn’t want an audience when I walked through that door with my tail between my legs.

So, last night, when Cam came to visit I’d told her I had tests all day today so there was no need to visit.

Cam, Kyle and Derek were seniors at CU, and all three of them had classes on Friday, which gave me a few hours before I had to face them.