17) History Repeating

Start from the beginning
                                    

 

In all my years of fighting, and plotting- despite all of the situations I’ve been in- all the people I’ve been in altercations with, I have never actually wanted to die. I have never begged for mercy, never admitted defeat, and wished for death. Never… Until now.

 

It would be so much easier, less painful if I could just go to sleep, and never wake up. Carter could move on, he’d never have to deal with anything I could possibly put him through again, he could live on, even love again. Find some pretty biker chick who could treat him so much better than me.

 

Maybe one day he’d even want to have kids with her. And, not regret it in the end… Give him everything I can’t.

 

But, not only would that be easier on Carter… It would be easier on me. To just end it without anymore suffering… I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve peace. I deserve whatever is coming to me…

 

“You’re not lying…” Carter whispers, blinking a few times, his expression unreadable. “Are you?”

 

I don’t know what finally brought him to his senses, but it’s about damn time.

 

I shake my head slowly, still fighting off tears as I stare back into his foggy hazel eyes. In his eyes is so much hurt, and shame, you’d think he just killed his mother… In cold blood.

 

“No, Carter, I’m not.” I croak, my voice weak with despair.

 

“I can’t- No! I can’t have a kid. This can’t be happening.” He mumbles, not giving me the time to respond before he shoves past me, running out of the door, not even bothering to close the door behind him.

 

~End Of Flashback~

 

“It’ll be okay, baby. We’ll get through this.” I sigh, reaching down to rub my belly as an elderly woman looks over at me, a small smile on her face.

 

“How far along are you?” She asks kindly.

 

“Only a couple months.” I smile back warmly, a sense of ease filling me slightly as I think about the baby growing inside of me at this very moment.

 

“Your first?” She asks

 

“No, my second.” I answer.

 

“Is the father with you?” She asks, a sense of excitement in her old grey eyes.

 

“No. No, he's not.” I sputter, looking down at the ground shamefully.

 

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