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Tuesday, June 6th, 2017. 8:12 am. • • •
The hospital room was cold, stark white, and as I stared at the wooden door of the private room, I wondered how this appointment would go. It's only been two days since the death of Ben, and when they found out, I was pregnant. Clark wanted me to rest for the whole week, but I could not do that knowing that this child was exposed to such a lethal dose of lead. The paper on the leather exam table crinkled beneath my body as I shifted slightly at the sound of footsteps near the door.
Bruce was able to get me an appointment as soon as possible and made sure that I was in a private room in the private wing. The media was going crazy with my now-dead boyfriend being the leader of the cult that dismantled their city with explosions, and my name was being dragged into the grave Ben was in. They all asked the same question: How could I have not known? And I've been asking the same question. Maybe it was easy for me to ignore the red flags, the subtle off feeling I had, but in reality, he was so good at pretending to care and love me, and I was too starved for anyone to hold me at night that I would have ignored it all.
Clark made sure to clear up all the confusion about my role in Ben's plans. He explained it and clarified that I had saved his life and was also a victim of poisoning, and at this time, I was not available or strong enough to appear to the press and that they should respect my privacy while I recovered. I knew I'd eventually have to make an appearance at some point, but I was happy that Clark made sure I was able to grieve, recover and process everything without lenses in my face.
The door clicked, and I jumped up, startled to see a white-haired older gentlemen walk into the room even though he was the doctor I was waiting for.
"Ms. Westmore, how are you?" He asked, sitting on the small rolling stool smiling at me.
"I've been better."
"I understand you had some concerns over your pregnancy?" He asked, using his feet to shuffle a bit closer to me.
"Yes. How much were you told?"
The doctor's brown eyes squinted slightly as he thought back, "Mr. Wayne explained the levels of lead that was in your system and your pregnancy. If you're wondering about confidentiality- I am a doctor and will not do anything to break the trust between a doctor and a patient. Also, this appointment is not logged on any of the hospital computers. There will be no record of you being here except this conversation. I have worked with Mr. Wayne for decades. You can trust me."
I nodded, smiling slightly at the thought that Bruce has always thought ahead, "The levels were high. What can I expect in the coming months regarding this pregnancy?"
"With the lead being out of your system, you will soon be back to normal. No more dizzy spells, headaches, vomiting. All your previous symptoms will be nonexistent, but the pregnancy may result in miscarriage, stillbirth. If the fetus makes it full term, you can expect a premature birth; the development will be deficient..."
His words began to bleed and muddle together as I listened. My mind drifting off to one question that's been screaming in my mind ever since I heard Clark utter those words; do I keep it?
• • • 10:42 am • • •
The warmth of the tea flowed into the palms of my hands as I sat on the couch clutching a mug to my chest. The steam tickled the underside of my chin while my gaze was locked on the screen in front of me. It was as if my whole world had froze, time slowed and my heart sped up in rapid anxious flutters. My appointment this morning went really well; Dr. Flank explained my possibilities thoroughly and the few pamphlets he had given me were strewn across my coffee table.
If I hadn't turned on the tv. If I wasn't so terrified of how loud my thoughts were in the deafening silence of my home audience would be blissfully and ignorantly unaware of how my life - yet again was in complete shambles and my narrative was out of control. On the screen I watched the clip they had of me. I had only arrived home an hour ago so they worked fast. My bruised face was obscured by a dark cap pulled down, the purple and blue splotches on my body were hidden by the oversized pullover and sweatpants I had slipped on this morning. I distinctly remember loving the feeling of my new running shoes - not that I'd ever use them for running.
My red hair was dull in the early morning sun and I was thankful for the large sunglasses I grabbed at the last minute - to me my face was almost unrecognizable. Biting my lip I watched as the video zoomed in from way across the street it's lens trained on me. I wasn't even angry at this point. My life wasn't mine - it was Metropolis' and of course someone was tipped off about me going to the doctors. Sighing, I unmuted the tv, leaned back and sipped at my tea.
"As you just saw that was Annie Westmore leaving Metropolis General Hospital early this morning. Even though she tried really hard to conceal the bruises to her face - it's obvious Ms. Westmore took a lot more damage in the attack than Superman led us to believe."
It was a news anchor for Metropolis News who broke the story- I think we went to the same college. The metallic sound of keys entering a lock made me jump and I watched as Clark opened the door, arms full of large paper bags. Setting my tea down, I ignored the tightness in my back, the wave of white that spent to my eyes and stood up making my way over to him. He had heard me stand while he was shutting the door and turned to me.
"Lay back down, Annie." It wasn't a command but it was close to one.
Clark set the bags on the counter and opened a few cabinets to begin putting groceries away. We've barely had any time to sit down and discuss anything that's happened and as I watch him out away the food I wonder if he'll break the ice or if I'll have to. Clark pulled his grey sweatshirt off and set it on the back of one of the bar chairs that I was ungracefully clutching at because getting up was a horrible idea.
"Can you make it back to the couch or do I have to put you there?" With a dark eyebrow cocked his blue eyes latched onto my white knuckles, trailed across my clenched jaw before looking me in the eye.
"I want to ask - what do you think I should do?" I squeezed my eyes shut willing the nausea away. The silence between us was vast and settled like a heavy woven blanket - cushioning all sounds but the mumbles of the tv.
The fridge slid to its widest berth as it slipped from Clark's usually quick fingers. He wasn't looking at me, but gawking at the tv. A voice inside my head screamed at me to not look but when Clark's eyes slipped to me, his brows right and his jaw clenched - I looked over my shoulder.
Plastered in large black letters on the bottom of the screen over a photo of me from before my attack were the words: ANNIE WESTMORE IS PREGNANT WITH A TERRORISTS BABY.
Gulping, my head mechanically turned back to the man in the room, "They should have used a better photo of me...." I gasped.
We stared at each other for a moment before my vision grew spotty and he rushed over, catching me just as my legs gave out.
