Patrice's Story (A "Living With The Choices We Make" Novella) ✔️

8 - Broken

"What are we gonna do?" I ask through the pressing silence that follows his outburst.

"Well, Patrice, you are sixteen years old. The only possible option is for you to have an abortion."

My bottom lip begins to quiver as I take a step back, the all too familiar hitch in my throat cutting off my breath. Even though deep down, I should have expected his reaction, it still feels like a punch right square into my stomach.

"That's murder." My breath is heavy as I control the rising tears. No way he can expect me to do this.

"Don't be ridiculous." His anger has been replaced by absolute calmness. "A baby would have a severe impact on your future. I mean, your life would practically be over. If you keep this child, you can forget about med school or ever making a career. A kid will tie you down for the rest of your life."

"But aren't you going to help me?" I lose the battle against the hitch in my throat when the first tears begin to roll down my cheeks. "This is your baby, too. Why don't you just raise it with Mom?"

His laugh is a mixture of bitterness and mocking. "Don't act like a child, Patrice. You know that's not possible."

I realize that the baby will carry his DNA—the undeniable proof of his despicable actions. It's a lost battle.

"Please, don't make me do this," I whisper in a last attempt to avoid the inevitable. My whole body is shaking as my eyes plead with him.

"I'm sorry, Patrice, but as your legal guardian, the decision is ultimately mine. You will abort this child and this is final. Now go to your room. I will call around to get this done over the weekend, so you won't miss any school."

With slumped shoulders, I retreat to my bedroom. The pregnancy test is tossed against the wall with a loud shout, followed by more tears as self-loathing takes over. I should not have given in so easily. Now I feel helpless, scared of what he'll do if I challenge him.

In the end, all that is left is to hide under the covers in total darkness which eventually melts with the growing black void in my soul. The tears keep falling until all that is left inside me is total emptiness.

~~~~

The next morning, he wakes me up before nine to drag me to an abortion clinic downtown. Not a single word is spoken during the drive over. I glare out of the window, battling with nausea and dead tired to the bone after not sleeping at all.

If this is morning sickness, I'm glad it is over soon, I keep repeating in my mind in a desperate attempt to calm my guilty conscious. My hand strokes over my belly from time to time where the small, new life is forming. I wonder if the baby is a boy or a girl and whether it already has a heartbeat. An incredible sadness hits me full force and I wipe over my eyes with the back of my hand to get rid of my tears.

Marcus says when he glances over at a traffic light. "Don't be so dramatic, Patrice. It's unfortunate that this happened, but an abortion is best under the circumstances. I'm not sure why you don't grasp this."

I remain silent—he wouldn't understand. All he cares about is himself and keeping this thing with us a secret. My fingers twist together to control my sudden urge to slap him across the face. It was his fault, after all. If he had just listened to me, we wouldn't be in this situation.

A young woman is already sitting in the waiting area when I lower myself on the edge of a chair close to the reception desk where Marcus checks me in. I chew on my lip, taking in my surroundings. It looks just like any normal doctor's office, the only exception are the colorful brochures that talk about adoption and prevention of pregnancy. There's even a basket with condoms on a table next to the exit.