Too Bad For Her Own Good

Chapter 46

"I - I was, p-pregnant?" I ask Dr. Kyle, an unexplainable feeling of nausea crawling throughout my shaking limbs.

The doctor nods his head slowly, to emphasize his point. "I'm so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Chambers." He says sincerely, his eyes holding an emotion I can only guess is pity.

I can't bear to look at Logan, the horrid feeling of guilt ripping at my insides.

I had been so stupid to fight with Logan, to get in that car, and to call him, to distract myself while I was driving. I was so, so stupid.

And my stupidity, it killed someone.

My eyes start to blur and my head starts to spin, my body feeling shaky and dizzy. I go to turn to Logan and let out a stream of apologies - even though I know that no words will be able to make this okay.

But he stands up, and storms towards the door, leaving without a second glance.

It's with this that I break down into sobs, guilt breaking my bones with its torment.

I was so immature, so stubborn - and I lost my baby because of it.

While yes, I didn't know I was pregnant, that doesn't make it any less painful. In fact, it makes it worse.

"H-how far along was I?" I ask the doctor, not bothering to try to stop the steady flow of tears from falling.

He looks down to his clipboard, "About a month, just a little less."

My mind reels, and I don't notice the doctor leave with a final look of pity.

Logan and I only had sex once before the "wedding", and while it was about a month ago, we'd used a condom.

It didn't even cross my mind that pregnancy was even possible. I was due for my period last week, but I was always shifting weeks, and it always came late.

I let my head fall into my hands, simply unable to support myself.

I want to run after Logan, I want to ask him - beg him - to please forgive me for doing the unforgivable: for killing our baby.

But I can't. I can't move, I can't walk with all of these stupid braces and these stupid bruises. I can barely feel the pain of the accident anymore; as it has been replaced with the excruciating aching of loss.

And Dr. Kyle had said there was permanent damage to my uterus, making having children almost impossible.

I'd ruined any chance at a family.

Logan, he wanted a family. He would have made a fantastic father, and I took that away from him.

More years fall from my eyes, and I'm faintly aware of movement and the voice of a soothing woman: telling me she will take me back to my room to deal with the news.

My mind is reeling. Suddenly something so inadequate as a divorce, or even a gang, seem so mundane. This is a life - a human, life- that I had ruined.

And not only the baby's, but Logans. I doubt after what I'd done he'd want or stay married, and we'd get divorced. With the marriage law still being intact we would have to live together, but he'd have to conceive with someone else.

Maybe they'd even end that marriage too, and throw me to the streets where I seem to belong.

Once I'm in my room alone, I can't take it anymore. I let out a scream of agony and grief, and begin pulling at the bedsheets. I want to break something, to rip something, anything.