“Please God… Please forgive me,” I pleaded with every last fiber of my being. “Please grant me forgiveness… I have no other choice… Please you have to believe me, just please show me some mercy. Please guide me.”
I sat there pleading with someone I wasn’t sure existed, but I had to try and believe. Try to make this right, when all of it was so wrong. I don’t know how long I was there on my knees waiting for I don’t know what.
A sign?
I got to my feet, looking at Jesus on the cross and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
Before turning to leave.
I cruised through the streets of New York fighting the urge to drive back home, tears still streaming down my face. I turned around several times and headed to my safe place, trying to block out the girl’s voice on the GPS telling me I was going the wrong way. But she was right. Home was the wrong way and I had to stop running.
I pulled up to the clinic just after one and sat there looking at the sign through blurred eyes. My thoughts raging a war in my head. I closed my eyes, leaning my head on the cool steering wheel, trying to catch my breath. Breathing in and out. Telling myself that this was the right decision, pleading for my mind to console my heart.
Before I knew it, I was out of the car and walking in. The door binged as I opened it, startling me out of my hazy state. I walked up to the receptionist, gave her my name and was told to take a seat.
I sat in the lobby of the doctor’s office, waiting for my name to be called. It broke my heart to see all the women awaiting the same fate.
Words couldn’t describe the emotions coursing through my body, the turmoil and doubt that had taken residence inside of me. The last two weeks weren’t like anything I had ever experienced before. I would hate myself for the rest of my life for going through with this. But I would hate myself even more, if Heaven forbid, something happened to me and my child would be left to an addict and the god of organized crime.
As each patient was called back, my heart sped up more and more. Another piece of me dying little by little. I knew it would be my turn soon and as much as I wanted to get this over with, I was also terrified. My legs were bouncing nervously, the anticipation killing me. I got out of my seat to grab another magazine that I was blankly looking through.
There were no words to describe the pain I felt in my heart at that moment. What I had been going through alone.
Always alone.
Bing.
I walked out of the office, needing some air. I crouched down near the curb, all of a sudden feeling like I was going to be sick. I clenched my only lifeline in my hand, contemplating calling Austin. My heart was pounding out of my chest, there was a ringing in my ears and the world in front of me began to spin. I dry heaved a few times, only then remembering I hadn’t had breakfast that morning. I slid my phone open and pressed recent calls. Austin’s name was the first on the list, staring at me, judging me. I was just about to press send when the door behind me binged again, making me jump and drop my phone onto the sidewalk.
I’d known I was pregnant for a week the day of the party. I wasn’t feeling well for a few days, but I honestly thought it was from everything that was going on with Austin. I blamed it on the stress, the nerves, and the emotional mayhem causing my body to shut down. I didn’t want to eat. I was always nauseous and just felt like shit in general. I went to the doctor hoping she could prescribe me some antibiotics or something to make me feel better.
When I told her my symptoms, she immediately asked me when my last period was. That’s when it hit me that I was late. Right then and there I knew the cause of my sudden illness.
She gave me a cup to pee in and a few minutes later, the test confirmed that I was pregnant. She told me how far along I was but honestly, I checked out. Everything faded as she did the ultrasound and handed me the photo when she was done. All that mattered was that I was pregnant. Any other person would be happy with this news, but I was torn. I spent the rest of the day at home by myself just lying around. Rubbing my belly, fantasizing about life with a baby. Looking at the ultrasound photo for hours. Austin was working or getting high or whatever the fuck he was doing at that point.
He came home later that night with Jon right by his side. They smoked and did some blow. I sat out on the balcony with my memory blanket wrapped around me, gazing at the buildings, at all the lights and sounds of the city that never slept.
Allowing the chaos to take control over what had become my life.
The day of the party I spent walking around the city, lost, confused, and overwhelmed. I wanted to tell Austin I was pregnant. I wanted to share the news with him, hoping that maybe it was what he needed, the push to come back to me. I was scared, terrified that even if I told him, nothing would change. He would be happy and want to celebrate by getting high or partying. But then I walked by the art gallery I took him to for his birthday, and his sketch of me was now sitting dead center in the window.
For all to see.
That was when I realized he needed to know, that I needed to tell him. If he still didn’t change, if it still didn’t help him find his way then I would raise the baby by myself. There wasn’t a chance in Hell that I would ever let my child step foot anywhere near this life.
The second I got home and parked my car in the garage, a sick, disturbing feeling manifested deep within my core. I walked to my door with my heart heavy and full, filled with nothing but worry, concern, and anxiety. Coming home to a party was nothing new, but when I saw that little girl my heart dropped. Molly playing with drugs, nobody watching over her, nobody protecting her, nobody taking care of her. My heart shattered along with the fantasy of the life I thought I could have.
It was Austin that drove the dagger into my heart even further when he confirmed that he knew she was there. That he was just too fucked up to care. Reality set in, and it was then that I grasped I would be raising our baby by myself. I didn’t even contemplate getting an abortion. It wasn’t even on my spectrum of thinking.
“Daisy Mitchell,” the nurse announced, saying my real name.
This wasn’t Briggs who was doing this. This wasn’t me hiding behind someone I created to survive.
This. Was. Me.
The girl that died in the car with her parents was now alive and killing someone else in her life.
The irony was not lost on me.
When Molly, the little girl, said her mom had died and that she was there with her dad. That her father brought her to this hellhole and that he would find her. That he always found her.
It hit me like a ton of fucking bricks. My parents had died too, and I didn’t have a choice in how my life turned out. I couldn’t do that to another innocent life.
Especially my baby.
What kind of mother would that make me?
I couldn’t be that selfish, even though I wanted this baby more than anything in this world. What if something happened to me? I’d leave it with their drug-addicted father or even fucking worse, my uncle.
My child would become Molly.
My child would become me…
I contemplated adoption, but there was no way in Hell that I could have this baby, our baby growing inside me for nine months. The baby that I already loved with all my heart just to give it away to someone. I would end up keeping it.
The vicious cycle would never end.
There was no way out of it. I struggled with my emotions, with my choice, with my decision for over a week. There was no other choice to be had. I made the appointment, and I’ve hated myself ever since.
“Are you Daisy Mitchell? We’re ready for you,” the nurse announced again, holding the door open, waiting for me to come back in.
I grabbed my phone and walked back in. I followed her through a long corridor. Feeling as if I was being taken to my execution.
And in a way, I was.
She took me into a room that had an examination table. The nurse asked questions about my medical history and other personal quest
ions that I imagined were standard.
The doctor came in followed by the nurse. She explained to me the steps of the procedure. I lay back on the table with my feet in stirrups. The uncontrollable tears slid down my face and the nurse grabbed my hand in sympathy.
“Honey, you don’t have to do this. Do you want us to call someone for you?” the same nurse asked.
I shook my head no and spoke through the tears, “There is no one.”
I couldn’t be selfish. This wasn’t about me. It was about destroying another life.
More blood on my hands.
They were extremely understanding and reassuring, telling me over and over again that there was no judgment. She explained the aftercare. I nodded the entire time, feigning attention. It happened in less than five minutes.
The last piece of my heart was taken away from me.
A part I knew I would never get back. No matter how much I wanted to. No matter how many times I’d pray. I did this, and I had no one to blame but myself.
The burden was mine to carry.
All I knew was that I cried the entire time. When it was done, they took me into a comfortable room with leather recliners and I curled up in one for a few hours wrapped up in some warm blankets.
Cradling my stomach, mourning the loss of something I wanted so desperately, so fucking badly. Something I had never even held in my arms.
I didn’t just kill my baby that day.
I. Killed. Me.
I ended up slipping out without being noticed because I didn’t have anyone to pick me up. I probably shouldn’t have driven in my condition, but all I wanted to do was go home.
Once again it was a reminder that I really was alone in this cruel world.
I took a shower the next day, wanting to wash away the misery. I curled up in a little ball, letting the hot water run over my broken body. The tears wouldn’t stop, and my body was shaking to the core. I couldn’t breath.
I kept repeating over and over again, “What have I become? I’m so fucking sorry, baby. I didn’t have a choice, I’m so so sorry. You’re with grandma and grandpa now, they will take care of you,”
I cried harder, talking to a life that didn’t exist anymore, thinking about my parents and everything that had ever been taken from me. I stayed there till the water was too cold to bear. I grabbed my blanket then buried myself in my bed and sobbed the entire day, so alone. No one to comfort me, hold me, no one to tell me they loved me. That everything was going to be okay. It was like I was that little girl. The one that had no friends, no family, no love.
As if Austin never existed.
But he did and that only made it worse. Because I knew what it was like to have that. To have him. To have everything I ever wanted but for it to be taken from me. Without my say or consent.
My uncle took yet another thing from me.
Adding to the endless pile of things I didn’t have anymore. Things I could never get back.
I placed the ultrasound picture behind my favorite picture in the frame by our bed. That was all I had left.
My memories…
It started to get late after Austin left me pleading for him to stay. I just didn’t want him to go get fucked up. I didn’t want him to go numb his pain and drown his sorrows with drugs. I wanted him to stay with me and mourn the loss of our baby together. To help each other through it, like a normal loving couple.
What we used to be.
I was so conflicted I couldn’t even fucking see straight. I knew I should have packed up my shit and left, but I couldn’t. I loved him. After everything he had put us through, I still loved him so goddamn much. He was all I’d ever known. I didn’t know how to be without him.
There was no Daisy without Austin.
I felt so much guilt for the man he had become. I brought him into this lifestyle when I already knew he was popping pain pills like candy. I knew he had an addictive personality. I knew he loved to numb his pain so he didn’t have to feel anything. It was like he had a death wish, and I put a loaded gun in his hand.
I blamed myself.
I wanted to save him.
To save one fucking person in my life.
I knew what he said was out of anger. That he didn’t mean it. I could see that he regretted saying those hateful things to me immediately. I knew he was hurting. I knew he was sick and maybe I was sick too.
I had become as co-dependent on him as he did with his drugs.
At the end of the day, I didn’t know if that was right or if it was wrong, all I knew was that I fucking loved him.
I was honestly just so fucking devastated that he let that little girl come into the party. It burned into all my insecurities of what I didn’t want to be true. As all the lies I told myself for years came tumbling down on me. Suffocating me in ways I never thought possible.
When one a.m. turned into three a.m. and three a.m. turned to four a.m. and four a.m. turned into the next afternoon, and the next evening, and then the next day…
No Austin.
He had never, not come back to me. It didn’t matter how late it was, how fucked up he was. I always went to sleep with him in our apartment. For five days, five fucking days I didn’t see him. I didn’t hear from him.
I didn’t know if he was dead or alive.
I wanted to call my uncle to ask him if maybe he sent him somewhere or Austin requested to be sent somewhere. But I didn’t. The last thing I needed was to bring my uncle into this fucking havoc. I called local hospitals instead. I drove and walked around places I thought he could be. I left voicemail after voicemail on his phone. I was so desperate to find him I even called Jon and Mitch’s phones as well.
I didn’t sleep fearing I’d miss his call. I sat up waiting for the call or the knock on the door that thankfully never came.
After five days. I finally heard the lock on the door turn at almost eleven at night. I wanted to run to him, to hold him, to have him hold me. To have him kiss me, call me his girl, and tell me that he loved me. I was just so fucking thankful he was alive and had come home to me.
I didn’t.
I stayed seated on the couch, watching the doorknob turn and him walk in. Almost expecting what I was about to see but even that didn’t prepare me. He looked like he hadn’t slept or showered since he’d left. His eyes were bloodshot, and his pupils were non-existent in a way I’d never seen before. Dull blue eyes stared back at me with no familiarity behind them.
No Austin.
He walked toward me, wearing the same clothes he had left in. The sleeves now rolled down his arms but not buttoned.
My heart dropped.
It was loud.
It was clear.
It was everything that was left of me.
Of us.
Tears instantly pooled in my eyes. I couldn’t believe I still had some left after all the crying I had done since he left me. Begging him not to go. Not to do what I knew he was going to.
He stood right in front of me, peering down with dead, glassy, soulless eyes. The haze clouding all around us, he was still clearly high as fuck.
My eyes fell on the blood seeping through the forearm of his dress shirt.
“What did you do, Austin? What did you fucking do?” I whispered so low, scared that if I said it any louder then it would be true.
His head leaned back a little, barely able to hold himself up.
“Let me see your arms. Roll up your sleeves.”
He followed my gaze down to the blood, blinking a few times before he realized what I meant. I already knew what was lying beneath the stained fabric, but I needed to see it with my own eyes, if I saw it I couldn’t make excuses anymore.
He cocked his head to the side, slowly starting to unbutton his shirt. He let it slide down his shoulders, to his hands and threw it on my lap. I held his blood-stained shirt in my hands and saw the dried red marks on his veins.
Tears slid down my face, one right after the other.
“Why? Why would you do this??
?? I cried, not understanding.
He narrowed his eyes at me and spoke with more conviction than I had ever heard before, slaying the last bit of will I had left.
“You decided to kill a part of me, baby, without even telling me… so I’m just finishing what you started.”
Chapter 29
Austin
My body felt like it weighed two hundred pounds, sinking into the mattress. My head was fucking throbbing. All I could hear was a wah wah sound echoing all around me.
“Daddy! Daddy! Wake up! Please wake up!”
I felt little hands poking me, opening my eyes to a beautiful baby girl with a halo of light shining behind her long brown hair. Bright blue eyes that mirrored Briggs’.
“Austin! Austin! Wake up! Please wake up!”
“Daddy, you need to wake up. Mommy needs you now. Come on, sleepy head, get out of bed. Go back to Mommy. She needs you more than I do. I’m fine. We will meet one day. I promise.”
I tried to talk to her, to reach for her, but every time I did my baby girl would move further and further back into the light. Away from me. Always leaving me without my consent, without my approval.
This was the closest I had ever been to her. Usually I just saw her bright blue eyes staring back at me. Sometimes she would be twirling around, playing, laughing, and smiling.
I didn’t want her to leave me. I wanted to take her in my arms and never let her go.
“Come on, Austin, don’t do this to me!” Briggs yelled from above me, clapping her hands in my face.
Slapping my cheeks.
Shaking my body.
“Daddy, I love you. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.”
I reached for her again when she appeared right next to me. She didn’t leave me that time. For the first time since I started seeing her a year ago after the night I started my own demise. She let me hold her. I held her so fucking tight. I felt her soft baby skin against my arms. The smell of her baby scent surrounded me. I wanted to tell her I loved her, I loved her more than anything but my mouth wouldn’t move.
I couldn’t get it to fucking move.