Every morning she wakes me up. She bounces on my bed like an excitable grasshopper, her emerald eyes twinkling like diamonds when I wake. Every morning I brush her hair, running my fingers through her soft golden curls. Every morning I dress her, choosing the perfect little outfit to wrestle her into. Every morning she skips to school, trailing me along behind her by the hand. Every morning she cries when I leave her at the gate, tears rolling down her rosy cheeks. And every morning she waves goodbye, already looking forward to the afternoon when she would see me again.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Not before, not during, and definitely not after. I couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew all along. Did she hate me? Of course she did. I took everything away from her, and I didn’t have that right. I wish more than anything none of this had ever happened. I wish I hadn’t had to make that decision, because it was the most painful decision I have ever made. Pain. God’s cruel way of punishing us for our sins, and oh how I sinned. The intense agony that occupies our every thought, it pushes out all signs of joy and happiness, opening its doors only for fear. That is what drives us. That is what controls the lives of every single insignificant little human on this planet. Pain. And fear. Pain of the past and fear of the future. Why on earth did I let fear control my life? I was so terrified of not being able to do all the things I wanted to do, like traveling the world and owning my own company. I was so worried about my future I barely even considered hers.
Now my past haunts me. Every night I wake up, sometimes I’m crying, sometimes I’m even screaming, screaming for her. No matter where I am, no matter what I do, I can’t get that day out of my head. I remember it so vividly; it’s like a movie on a constant loop inside my head.
When I got out of my car I was surrounded by my thoughts and fears, everything I had been worried about was closing in on me. Women just like me were shoving signs in my face, signs that said everything I was trying to ignore, trying not to think about. I entered the clinic to cries of ‘Murderer’ Even when I shut the door their cries still echoed in my ears. I wrapped my jacket tighter around my shoulders as I sat down in the waiting room. It reminded me of a dentist’s office. It looked like a dentist’s office, and it smelt like a dentist’s office, but the leaflets lining the walls were littered with pictures of babies, not teeth. I tried to concentrate on other things in the waiting room. I tried to distract myself with the countless magazines littered around the room, but it was hopeless. 14 heartbeats. They kept distracting me. The soft thumping I was sure I could hear, the heartbeats of the other women in the room, and their babies. Some of the women didn’t look pregnant at all, but one or two were like me, they had very visible bumps producing out of their stomachs. There was one girl there; she couldn’t have been more than 15 years old, with the tiniest of bumps. It was small, but noticeable. Two people who I assumed were her parents were sitting on either side of her. Her mother looked worried. A little brown hair had strayed from her perfect bun and her brow was coated with a thin layer of sweat. Her father didn’t show any emotion. He sat there with an expressionless face and looked straight ahead of him. His hand didn’t twitch and his eyes barely blinked. He was heartless. Then there was the girl. She looked exactly how I felt, terrified. I don’t think she wanted to be there at all, I think given the choice she would have kept that baby, but I have the feeling her parents made the decision for her. Some people don’t have the freedom to make their own choice. Some people have to do it for medical reasons, or someone makes the decision for them, but what I did was unforgiveable. I did it because I was selfish!
When they called me in my heart was pounding in my chest. They had taken the girl away already, she had started screaming in the waiting room, but her father dragged her in anyway, ignoring her desperate cries. I walked in of my own accord. I lay down on the bed and didn’t stop the doctor when I heard the machine roar to life, I just closed my eyes. The pain was practically non-existent, physically anyway. The pain that spread across my chest, puncturing my heart a thousand times over was unbearable. I could hear her screaming, inside my head. I could hear her terrified cries as a horrifying machine invaded her home and literally tore her limb from limb.
Living with what I did is something much worse than I could ever have imagined at the time. I can’t help but think, what if I hadn’t gone out that night? What if I told the man no? What if I hadn’t gone back to his flat? No matter how much I might want to, I can’t turn back the clock. I am forced to live with my choice. I am forced to live every day knowing that I am a murderer. When I look in the mirror I see a monstrous creature. When I’m in the shower I can’t get the blood off my hands. When I’m in bed I can’t stop the nightmares.
Everyone told me that she couldn’t feel it. They told me she was so tiny, not even a baby yet. The said she couldn’t think or feel or anything. They insist that I have done nothing to be ashamed off and that I should just get on with my life and forget about it. But how can I forget?
Every morning my alarm clock wakes me up. It screeches like a banshee in my ears. Every morning I brush my hair, dragging the brush through my tatty locks. Every morning I get dressed, throwing on another white blouse and pencil skirt. Every morning I drive to work, cursing at the never-ending traffic jams. Every morning I order my staff about, making them jump through hoops with the false promise of a promotion. And every morning I think of her, and the life we could have had, Sophie and I.
