When the Lights Go Out {complete first draft}

Day Five - How the Hell Did We End Up Like This?

No one can promise that things are going to be alright, but things weren’t alright on Friday, really weren’t alright. 

                  As if I didn’t feel bad enough already. Now the ball game had changed. I was pregnant. My baby had died, same as I had. If I’d known about it, things would have been different, of course. But how different? I still wouldn’t have swum; I’d still of disappointed all those people. I was a star; a star that had fallen and wasn’t going to rise to fame, now.

                  I had fainted again, on Vincent’s sofa, and he had shaken me awake. “It’s just the trauma,” he’d said to me. “You’ll be alright.” We’d walked out of his house, then, without talking to his parents. Of course they were shocked, it’s not what they wanted for their son. But it’s not like we’d planned it, it’s not like it was expected. Hand in hand, we walked to the bus stop. We were going home, Vincent had promised, his classes weren’t as important right now. I was going to shower, and get warm again, and then we’d go to school. We told ourselves that we weren’t going to talk about it, especially not with Kendal and George, because it was a subject we didn’t want to delve into and upset anyone with – and I didn’t want Matthew to know, I couldn’t tell Imogen before my sister, either.

                  Had this all gone more smoothly. Had I lived that day, we would have waited, and then told my family, before telling our friends, leaving Matthew for last. I would only have told him because he would find out anyway; a nine-month bump can’t be hidden so well. Part of me just wanted to run home now and ask my mother for advice; I wanted to know what she would do. If she were in my shoes – a superstar, an amazing swimmer, a bright prospect, and a young high school student – what would have decision have been? At least I didn’t have to choose. I wouldn’t have to make a painful decision between my own life, and that of my child.

                  The bus journey to my house was quicker than the one to Vincent’s house, or maybe it just seemed like that. I don’t know. We arrived and I unlocked the front door, rushing inside quickly to get out of the cold. I immediately went upstairs and put the shower on, changing out of my clothes. I stood in front of the mirror that was above the sink and looked at myself – I mean, really looked at myself. Now that I was naked, I would properly examine my stomach.

                  I hadn’t really put on any weight. And besides, if I had, a team member would have mentioned something. You can tell how fat someone is by his or her swimming costume; it’s obvious, because the material sticks to you. There’s no hiding nothing in a costume. It’s even worse for girls, when their monthly cycle comes along, but I always make sure to train outside of the pool – in the gym – at that time.

                  Vincent appeared in the doorway, but I didn’t cower away from him, so he couldn’t see my naked body. We were passed that stage now. He leaned his head against the doorframe, as his eyes roamed my body. Not in a sexual or lascivious way, but in a kind natured, and soft way. “You don’t look it, you know.”

                  “I know. That’s why I didn’t know. I didn’t think about it.”

                  “Neither did I.” he sighed. “I guess we should have been more careful.”

                  I bit the inside of my lip and nodded without saying anything. I guess there were a lot of things that I should have changed, little things that would have led me on other paths that would have kept me alive sooner; some of those paths would have made me die quicker, mind. Quickly, I scrambled into the shower, trying to get away from the mirror. I didn’t want to think about this baby. I didn’t want to panic about what was going to happen to it again later – when we died. I didn’t want this to be my fault, failing my children before they were already born. It’s the worse thing a parent could do.