Unlike the other posts on this blog, which are factual and non-fiction, here's something that just flowed out of my fingers as I tried to put myself in the shoes of some of the women I've heard, seen, listened to, or spoken with momentarily in between discussions with self-centered boyfriends. Far too much of this is actually true. It is primarily because many different accounts have been woven together, that this is fictional.
Left, right.
Left, right.
Left, right.
Left, right.
Open the door.
Don't think, "just" get an abortion.
Those were the words he used.
The exact words.
Left, right.
Left, right.
Left, right.
"Why don't you just get an abortion?"
So everyone could hear.
Left, right.
Left, right.
Left, right.
One pair of shoes, two pair of feet.
Two people go in, one comes out.
Left, right.
Left, right.
Left, right.
Well, one person comes out alive.
And that's if everything goes "as planned."
Left, right.
Left, right.
Left, right.
Pay the money.
So much money.
Still cheaper than a child.
A priceless child.
Left, right.
Left, right.
Left, right.
Sign the papers.
From the left, to the right.
What did the paper say, anyways?
Left, right.
Left, right.
Left, right.
Lay on the table.
Feet in the stirrups.
Left.
Right.
Anesthesia.
Anastasia.
What a beautiful name for a baby girl.
My baby girl.
Escape.
Escape this cursed place.
Escape and banish the thought of returning from my memory.
"I don't want it! I don't want the abortion!"
Those weren't just thoughts.
They were words.
I know you heard me.
Why are you ignoring me?
Why are you looking at your watch?
Anesthetized.
Oh no...
Drowsy...
What happened?
Where's my baby?
Oh no, they didn't...
I told them not to...
And I finally found a name for my little girl...
Well, I bet she was a girl...
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