Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time- B.U. #wattys2016

20 | elliot

"Good morning Ms. Taylor," she responded. "Glad to see you're conscious again."

"Hello," I said. "Where's my fiancé?"

"We had to send him home, we can discharge you later, since you're awake now. The doctor will be in soon," she left and didn't bother saying goodbye.

The doctor came in about 5 minutes later.

"Good news!" He cheerfully walked in. A smile grew on my face, Elliot was okay.

"Your tests came back and you were okay! No big damage just a little bump," he continued.

"So my baby is okay?" I asked eagerly.

His face dropped, "Baby?" He quickly flipped through his papers and his face was immediately grey. "We don't have any records of you being pregnant, Ms. Taylor."

"What?" My heart dropped.

"We can do a test," he asked me. I nodded quickly. He returned with a small bottle. "You have to urinate in here," he said.

I slowly got out of bed and grabbed the bottle.

"Give it to the desk when you're done, we will see if you're still with child when the results come back," he left the room and I quickly jogged into the bathroom. My child. Was he okay?

I peed into the small cup and twisted the lid on. I almost ran to give it to the nurses at the front desks.

"Here," I said. I was out of breath.

"I'll test it now," the doctor swung by and grabbed the cup. I went back into the room and saw my phone sitting on the table. I dialed Brendon's phone number. 

"Come to the hospital quick," I spoke into the phone.

"On the way," he responded and I heard the click of his phone, which meant he ended the call. I sat on my bed eagerly waiting the results.

The door started to creek opened and I looked it. It was only Brendon.

"You're okay!" Brendon ran into the room and embraced me with a hug. I didn't respond. "Mel?"

The door creeped open the doctor from before entered.

"Mr. Urie," he noted. Brendon smiled.

"So is my fiancé okay?" He asked. I felt numb. I knew by the doctors facial expression that I wasn't pregnant anymore. That my child was lost. My child was an angel. I felt warm tears cascade down my face.

"She is okay, but the tests came back and I'm sorry. You are not pregnant anymore," he grimaced. He pitied me. "I will get the papers ready for your discharge."

Brendon's face fell. "What."

I felt sobs erupting from my chest. I choked on my own tears.

"No. No. No. She's pregnant! I'm going to be a dad!" He screamed angrily at the doctor. He pointed to himself. "I'm going to be a father. A great father!"

He walked straight up the the doctor and the doctor took a step back.

"I'm sorry about your loss," he said.

"I was going to be a daddy," Brendon whispered and crumbled onto the floor.   He cried hit the floor.

"I will get the papers," the doctor left.

"Brendon," I called softly.

"What?" He spun around. Anger and despair was the emotion I could feel radiating off of him.

"I'm sorry," I whimpered.

"I'll be in the car," he responded quickly. He ran out of the room and I slowly followed him. I signed a couple of papers and walked through the doors of the hospital.

"Melanie!" Paparazzi screamed my name. "What happened!"

I didn't want to talk to them. I gave them a sad smile, "I lost him, I lost my baby."

Tears streamed down my face and everything went silent. They let me go without attacking me for more information. They gave me that much respect. I got into Brendon's red car and he wouldn't even look at me.

"He was my baby too," I said softly. He didn't respond. He just turned the radio up. A news broadcast called and it announced that I wasn't pregnant any more.

I could feel him tense up and get upset that I told the paparazzi that.

I looked at my phone to escape the awkward silence. A tweet that was recently posted on Twitter stood out to me.

I bet she lied to get Brendon to stay with her. No one would like her if she's getting fat. No wonder she lied.

Thousands of retweets. A lot of them tagged me in it. I could feel hurt by this but I was mostly numb.

We arrived at home and Brendon parked the car in the drive way. I had my purse of things in the back. All my money and stuff.

"It's your fault," he spat out the words angrily.

"What?" I asked him.

"It's your fault he's dead," his words cut  through me like a knife. "I'll be inside."

He didn't even bother turning off the car. He left the keys in and stormed inside.

He blamed me for our child's death. I felt more tears come out as I cried. I felt useless. I felt like a murderer. I felt like I was a waste of space. I just need to leave, to leave this.

I hoped over into the drivers seat and pulled out of the driveway. I didn't even look back as I started my drive.