MADMAN'S HAVEN

32

I was aware now.

Only a couple of months earlier I had repeated the sinful action of impure intimacy multiple times with the young, probably very much fertile man.

No part of me wanted to believe it, but since Dolores mentioned it the other night, and since I realized that I was also late in bleeding, all pieces slowly started to fall together into a paltry puzzle of truth. The morning vomiting had nothing to do with physical detoxication as I first thought, nor did the abating appetite or the sudden craving for red wine.

This was something completely different. Something I never imagined would happen to me, even out of stupidity. I knew that I didn't protect myself when I was with him, still I seemed to be naive enough to believe that this wouldn't happen to me.

My body was creating something on the inside that I wasn't ready for. One part of me wasn't surprised at all since I was grown enough to know all about how a child was made, but still, I was so deep down in the repudiation and caught up in every other issue of mine, that I just couldn't realize it earlier.

The thought of being this negligent as an adult brought me into heavy shame. There was no excuse for this, no pity at all.

A nurse who happened to get pregnant by accident was something just not acceptable.

The anxiety grew stronger along with the lump of life inside my abdomen, and it made me feel even more sick. There was no way I could get through this. What would I tell my family and friends?

I wasn't married, I wasn't even in a relationship, and bringing a bastard child into the world would only bring shame over me and my family. There would be so many questions to ask about the unknown father, and too many judgemental statements about my unholy actions of sexual intercourse outside of marriage.

I just couldn't bare it. I wasn't stable enough to become a parent, and I wasn't strong enough to receive the kind of judgment that would appear sooner or later when my stomach was no longer flat and thin out of malnutrition. Not in my current state of mental health.

The roller coaster had already been vigorous enough, and the last thing I needed was another contribution to my downfall.

I wasn't ready, and even if I would be, I knew very well that I couldn't bring a bastard baby to life. Not with a father being an abominable murderer who would be locked up in a small cellar for the rest of his life.

There was one hesitant side of me that actually could rely on the horrific truth and convince my whole self that everything would be okay. There was this other lying version of story that I could use for the official, but that one brought me into even deeper fear. Because in that scenario, I would have to go back to the violent woman abuser.

I could tell Donald that this was his doing, that accidents happen even though we used protection, and in that case, he would probably be thrilled enough to get down on one spiteful knee just to get me bound to him for the rest of his life. But I refused that.

Also, there was this issue with the genetic features. I knew that I would give birth to a white baby since the real father shared my skin color and ethnicity, which Donald didn't, and as soon as he would realize that the child had no similarity to himself, he would go completely mad and probably kill me for lying. I just knew that. He was smart enough to figure out the genetic proclivities and which ones were dominant, which made this alternative scenario completely omitted.

A shivering shower of guilt washed over me as I felt so selfish and incautious, but as soon as I thought about the consequences not only troubling myself, I realized that my final decision was not only the best for me.

I dried my salty tears on the back of my hand. The mascara left black stains on my pale skin and appeared as dark rainy clouds that only brought more darkness into my life. The frightening truth was torturing me from the inside and out. It stressed me with panic knowing that this fetus only grew bigger and stronger with every passing second.

I knew I had to act quickly before it would show, and I had to think very clearly not to make any stupid choices out of impulse.

I knew there were doctors performing procedures to get rid of it, but I also knew all about the risks of it. It was a very secretive medical process since it was illegal, and for that reason, I knew that there was a heavy amount of hazards coming with it.

Only telling a doctor about it would bring me into heavier shame, and undergoing a procedure like that would probably make it all more realistic and bring me into deeper hesitation and confusion about what was really going on.

I couldn't allow this unwanted offspring to ruin my life. I had to do something. This was not the time.

But I knew there were other ways too, and since I was an educated nurse myself, I just needed to do a little bit of research about the exact process of doing it all right.

I wouldn't have to tell anyone, and the problem would be out of the world only within minutes, like it was never even there.