Underage, A Dan Smith Love Story

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen: I Just Can't Take The Heavy Weight Of Living.

The two weeks came and went. Everyday I've been in the studio with Mark working on new music and such. I've been so busy and stressed out, I've hardly been able to talk with Dan. It was six am on a Monday morning. I'm in the studio with Mark after we pulled an all nighter trying to figure out this song.
"Screw this, let's order breakfast," Mark suggested.
"I agree but can you get me something not so, calorie packed, I've gained ten pounds this past month," I complained. Mark nodded and then made the phone call. When he came back and sat down my phone started ringing. I groaned of frustration.
"Hello," I answered.
"Ms Shea?" It was my doctor.
"Hi," I greeted.
"Ms Shea, I just got your blood tests back. You're completely healthy, but, I need you to come in because we have a slight, complication," he said.
"What type of complication?" I asked.
"I really should tell you this in person," he replied.
"I'm sorry I'm just in the studio all day it's a bad time," I said.
"Ms Shea are you aware that you're one month pregnant?" he asked. I dropped my phone. Mark looked at me concerned. I shook my head and ran out of the studio to the closest bathroom, where I threw up.

A few minutes later Mark came into the bathroom. He sat next to me and grabbed my hand, he then touched my forehead.
"Arabella? Are you okay?" Mark asked.
"No," I cried. I started bawling, Mark hugged me.
"What happened?" he asked.
"It was my doctor," I replied.
"And?" Mark asked.
"My life is over," I cried. I buried my head into his shoulder.
"You're dying?" Mark asked. I slightly chuckled.
"No Mark, I'm pregnant," I replied. He lit up.
"That's great! You're having a baby, a mini Arabella!" Mark exclaimed.
"I wish I could be happy, but I'm only eighteen," I said. Mark frowned. We sat there in each others' presence for what seemed like hours, but was only a few minutes.

The next day I went to my doctor for an ultrasound. I laid on the cold table as my doctor started rubbing the gel on me with a weird tool like thing.
"Hmm," the doctor said.
"Is everything okay?" I asked. He gave me a faint smile. He pressed a button on the ultrasound machine, and sighed.
"Have you been under a lot of stress lately?" he asked.
"Yeah, I'm a recording artist for Virgin Records. Of course I'm stressed out," I replied.
"I've been your doctor since you've been a child, do you still ride horses? Having you ridden in the past month?" he asked. I nodded. He grabbed my hand.
"Ms Shea, your child does not have a heartbeat, I don't think it has had a heartbeat for about a week," he said. My heart sunk. I lost the baby, just as soon as I found out I was even pregnant.

The second I got home I told my dad everything. I couldn't contain my emotions, my dad even cried. I had a three hour conversation with him but then I went to my bedroom and called Dan.
"Hi love," he greeted.
"Hi," I cried.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Do you have a show tonight?" I asked.
"Yeah," he replied.
"You need to cancel it," I sobbed.
"What? Why? Arabella what's going on?" he asked again.
"It's an emergency, I need you, you have to come home," I cried. I heard panicking on the other line.
"I'll be there," he said. Just as soon as he said that, I hung up.

Dan took a flight from Chicago to London, and was here by nightfall. He was driven to my house and ran inside. My dad was still at the table. His face was pale and his eyes red. He just wanted the sound of me crying to stop. He couldn't bear hearing his daughter in so much pain. My dad pointed upstairs. Dan nodded to him and ran upstairs as fast as he could. He took a deep breath before he opened my bedroom door. Once he got the courage, he stepped inside.
"Arabella?" he asked softly. As soon as he whispered my name I sat up.
"Dan," I cried. The tears came back.
"What's wrong love?" he asked. He sat next to me and pulled my body to his. I reached under my pillow for the ultrasound picture of the child I once carried. I handed it to him. His face lit up.
"This is great news," he exclaimed. I shook my head.
"It didn't make it," I whisper cried. Dan's face turned cold, he started crying. Making the long story short, the night was spent laying in each others' arms, and crying our sorrows away. The next week of the Bastille US tour shows were cancelled, and the rest of the lads were on their way back to London.