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Surprise, Surprise

I stared blankly at him trying to comprehend what he had just said.

"Come again.." I said, furrowing my brows.

He let out a sigh and looked me in the eye before repeating himself. "I killed my child."

"She was pregnant?" I asked, straightening up. He was being very vague and I needed him to just spit out the details. Rip the bandaid.

He shook his head no and the silence consumed us as the realization of what he was saying actually clicked in my mind. "...Michael.." I whispered. "How? Why?"

"It wasn't on purpose, I swear!" He exclaimed, immediately getting defensive. "I didn't know he was still in there when I torched the place."

"But-"

"I didn't grab her because I thought Nigel had," He explained. "But when I ran back to the car, no one had her. By then, it was too late to go back. I fucked up, I fucked up real bad, Kenny."

The tears began to fall from his eyes and he laid his head on my lap. Completely speechless, I caressed the back of his head as he cried. I didn't know what to say in order to console him but part of me felt like this was absolutely my fault. Had I not forced Michaels hand, he would have never killed her and his daughter would have still been alive.

His daughter.

They had a little girl. Oddly enough, I was a little jealous of that minor detail. After losing our son, he always talked about having another one but I would brush him off because I was afraid of losing another baby. Having a daughter was his primary goal because everytime he would mention having another baby, he would refer to our hypothetical child as a girl. The fact that Roxanne was able to give him that, then me being the reason she's on longer alive, doesn't sit well with me. Maybe that's why he's been so hostile toward me, and right now, I don't even blame him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I finally asked, breaking the now awkward silence.

He shrugged. "I knew you were going to be upset."

"We weren't together, so why would I be mad?"

"I don't know," He sighed. "I guess I just thought you would feel some type of way about it."

It was quiet for a couple minutes before I asked, "How old?"

"Five months."

That had me standing up from my spot on the bench and rushing inside, up the stairs to our bedroom and into our bathroom where I released the contents of my stomach in the toilet. The tears streamed down my face as I pulled down the lever, flushing the toilet and finally standing to my feet.

"Kennedy!!" Michael yelled from the other side of the door that I had quickly locked. "Please let me in!"

I ignored his requests and turned on the faucet letting the hot water run for a minute or so before splashing some on my face. I held my head in my hands and tried to collect myself. Had I known there was a child involved, I would've never convinced Michael to take that route. That's why he kept telling me to let him handle it.

I dried my face on a small towel and unlocked the door, swinging it open causing Michael to stumble in.

"You should've told me!" I exclaimed. "I would've backed off! I would've let you handle it like you said you would! You should have told me!!"

He pulled me to his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around me in an attempt to keep me in his hold.

"This is my fault." I repeated over and over. "This is why you've been so, so aggressive and hostile towards me."