Chapter 7: Gwen’s Regrets
Gwen woke the next morning, her body still feeling terrible. She ached every where. It was as though she had woke up on the garbage pile again, but upon examining the room it was clear she had not.
She sat up in bed, noticing her friend sound asleep on the other side and decided it best not to disturb her. She had kept Sheryl up quite late the night before, sobbing and crying about her predicament. Yet crying had solved nothing.
Sliding out of bed, she thoughtlessly stroked her stomach, reminding herself of her newest burden. She fought back the urge to cry again and made herself go to the kitchen.
She looked at the coffee pot, tempted to make some, hoping that when she had downed it her whole ordeal would have only been a bad dream. Dismissing the idea she leaned against the counter, staring at the fridge.
Three months. Had it really been three months?
The doctor’s notification had also brought with it a slew of painful memories. Memories she wished had stayed buried.
Gwen had suspected it for a while when she woke up sick every morning and it wasn’t just from the drugs. Secretly, she bought a pregnancy test just to make sure. Bryan had warned her that she had better not be. She feared what he would do thus, she had delayed as long as she could bear before she had to find out for sure.
It was positive.
She remembered sobbing on the bathroom floor wondering how on earth was she going to raise a child—and outside of wedlock.
Bryan had come over early that day, so Gwen had frantically tried to hide the test. She threw it in the trash can, buried beneath paper and cotton balls, but she had forgotten the box. It sat just under the edge of toilet when he found it.
“What is this,” he demanded waving the box.
She knew she was dead. “I-I-I just wanted to make sure,” she frantically answered.
His hand came across her face, knocking her to floor. “Where is it,” he growled, grabbing her shoulders.
“I-in the trash.” she answered more from fear than anything else.
In a brief moment he returned to give her a stiff kick in the side. “You little…,” he began. Pulling her up from the floor he continued, “What did I tell you?”
Hatred burned in his eyes, far worse than anything she had ever seen as his fingers tightened about her throat.
“Please…,” she begged. “I didn’t mean to…”
“Mean this then,” he sneered drawing close, his fingers tightening all the more.
Her vision grew bleak and she could barely breathe until there was only black.
Now she stood leaning against the counter, shivering from the thought.
Perhaps she should have stayed with Sheryl that night. It was where she had originally hidden the pregnancy test—where it probably should have stayed. But Shawn had been angry and so she had fled with it.
“What am I going to do,” she muttered wrapping her arms around herself for comfort. “I can’t have a baby…much less be a mother.”
Tears burned at the corners of her eyes again. Blinking them away she glanced about the small apartment with its plain, white walls.
It no longer felt like home to her. It was more like a prison; with the guards being her own memories torturing her daily. She had to go somewhere. She had to get away from that horrible place, but where? Where could she go without being seen, much less discovered as the search for her body was still making appearances in the news.
Then again she could always make a fool out of herself, announce her pregnancy to the public, and watch Bryan try to wiggle his way out of a homicide case. The idea was tempting.
On the other side her work would be tainted—worse than it already was. The media would surely have a hay-day with her drug addiction while painting her abuser as the perfect model citizen. The museum would likely purge itself of her paintings and she would forever be labeled with a nasty scarlet letter—as would her child.
Gwen dropped her arms to her stomach. Her muscles felt tight with a tiny, barely noticeable bump about the middle. The question now was would she keep it, or further more, could she go through with it?
Copyright The Faith Book 2011