Hell en Pointe | Alastor ✓

chapter 32

[A/N] - above is some art i drew for this story:)) hope u like!🩷

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You were pregnant, and you didn't know whose it was.

You were sitting on the toilet, hunched over with your elbows on your knees, one hand covering your mouth and the other holding the little white stick depicting two pink lines. No... this couldn't be. How how how?! You were always careful, whoever the man was, always used protection... Was it Caden's? Joe's? Braxton's?

Suddenly you couldn't breathe. You were only seventeen. You couldn't have a child! You were a performer, a ballerina, the best of your generation. You had such a bright and promising future ahead of you, one that did not involve a baby. You had to get rid of it, and soon.

Wiping tears and snot from your face, you cleaned yourself and pulled up your trousers, wrapping the stick in toilet paper and pocketing it. You washed your hands and then tangled them in your long dark hair, tying it into a loose bun.

You needed some fresh air. There were some woods outside your house on a mountain. Perfect. Nobody would find you there.

Your parents were upstairs taking a nap, you're sure, so you weren't worried about them wondering where you went. They were pretty used to you being gone from the house all the time anyway. Between dance practices at the studio, high school parties at some twenty-one year old's house down the street only for the most popular of students, they couldn't really control where you went these days. You were a senior in high school, nearly about to graduate, and frankly, you thought they didn't really care.

But they would care if they discovered that you were pregnant. And for some reason, that scared you more than the fact that your current boyfriend, Caden, had a few or more girlfriends and sutuationships that had went "missing" the past few months.

You killed them. Out of jealousy, you admit it. You had always been a little wrong in the head. Nobody ever noticed. You were always very silent as a child, and you enjoyed torturing bugs and often brought dead small animals home. But you grew out of it, and your parents never thought anything else of it.

Oh, if they knew what you knew now.

You hiked up the mountain, hand clutching your stomach. Perspiration coated your face and you breathed heavily from the exertion, but at least you would be alone. You thought of the child growing in your stomach and felt sick.

When you made it to the top, you lost yourself in the woods, thinking of everything but nothing at all, wandering endlessly through the vast expanse of trees and shrubbery. This place smelled of thick smoke and wet earth, and faintly like rotting animal carcasses.