I would kill myself. After the birth. There was no use in pretending anymore. Deciding to carry the baby was stupid. The adoption was stupid. I wouldn't make it through this unscathed. I was so stupid. I had the money to get an abortion right in my hands and instead I let my pride get the better of me and let Derrick rip it up right in front of my eyes. To make matters worse when he offered the idea that I get an abortion I let my own stupid feelings get in the way of my brain and decided I didn't want to go through it again. Now I was due in almost a month and had two eager ready to be dads waiting for their bouncing bundle of joy.
I was going to kill myself. I know that I am. There was no way I would able to just carry on with life after giving birth. It would eat away at me until my last days on earth. I would constantly worry and wonder about the baby and if what I did was right. What if one day it came looking for me? What if one day it asks their dads how it got here? What if it wants to know more? I didn't want to be here to answer those questions. To look it in its eyes and say I didn't want you. To say I was raped. It was a product of assault. Why would it want to know that.
What if it didn't want to know me? I thought about writing a letter I would give to its parents to give to them when their old enough. To explain what happened. Why i'm not around. At the end I would tell it don't look for me. I don't want to know you. It's no use. I'm a child. I was a child. It wouldn't want to know me. Would it? What if it didn't? What if I give birth and when their old enough to realize they don't look like their parents they just shrug it off when they found out they're adopted. What if they just don't care that I decided to give up my last shred of sanity because I cared too much.
I had to kill myself. I knew I had to. None of those possibilities sounded savory to me. I didn't want to be here for anything. I didn't want to feel anything after the birth. I didn't want to think after the birth. I didn't want to exist after the birth. The thought of Derrick smothering me and having to go to therapy and lie about my mental state was already draining enough. I didn't want to experience it.
I didn't want to deal with anything after the birth.
I wanted to cease to exist.
What If I could just die right after. They take it out of me, it cries, and then I smile a little as I flatline. It was almost poetic. To give life and then mine would end. I would like that because then I wouldn't leave behind any unanswered questions. Any broken hearts. I wouldn't leave them wondering what they could've done to stop it. It would be one of those things that just happens. Nothing that could be done about it.
I was going to kill myself and I had a plan. Multiple plans at that. I thought about overdosing, cutting, maybe hanging. I didn't want them to see me. Not like that. I owed them the little bit of decency they had given me to not let them see it. I would leave in the middle of the night find a back alley and overdose, maybe cut too deep. Not many places to hang without causing a spectacle. I could jump from the bridge but then it would possibly be too hard to recover my body if they even were to find it and I didn't want them to think I just ran away.
That would give them hope.
There was no hope here anymore.
I was going to kill myself and at least I would leave behind notes. Each of them would get a note expressing my gratitude for all they've done for me. The individual things I was most grateful for. One page ending with an apology for being the way I was at the end.
This is how it was always going to end.
It was fate.
It was inevitable.
I was ready to accept it.
