Two Sides of Us

Chapter 16: Andrew

I sat in the cold, sterile emergency room, feeling the sting as the nurse carefully stitched the cut above my eyebrow. The rhythmic sound of her work was oddly calming, a stark contrast to the chaos that had brought me here. I needed three stitches—three stitches because Rachel had finally lost control. She was in another room now, being monitored overnight due to her severely high blood alcohol levels, nothing to do with anything I'd done. The whole scene felt surreal, like I was watching it happen to someone else.

A police officer sat across from me, his notebook open as he scribbled down notes. His brow was furrowed in concentration, but when he looked up, his expression was serious. "So, just to confirm, Mr. Collins, you don't want to press charges?"

I shook my head, feeling a dull ache throb through my skull. "No, I don't. It was... an accident." The word tasted bitter in my mouth. "Rachel shouldn't have been drinking, but I'm fine. There's no need for this to go any further."

He nodded, though I could tell he wasn't entirely convinced. "We've already spoken to her, and she admitted to drinking. She said it was an accident."

"It was," I replied, my voice flat. I didn't have the energy to explain further, and honestly, I didn't want to. I just wanted this night to be over.

The nurse finished the last stitch and stepped back, giving me a sympathetic look. "All done. You're going to need to take it easy for a while. And if you start feeling dizzy or nauseous, come back immediately."

"Thanks," I muttered, though I wasn't really listening. My mind was miles away, replaying the events that led up to this. The argument, the glass bottle smashing against my head, Rachel's drunken rage... it all blurred together in a haze of regret and disbelief.

The officer stood up, closing his notebook. "Alright, Mr. Collins. We'll file this as an incident report, but no further action will be taken unless you change your mind."

"I won't," I said firmly, meeting the officer's gaze. The room was silent except for the faint beeping of machines from down the hallway, the steady hum of the fluorescent lights overhead, and the soft clicking of the nurse's tools as she tidied up.

But something had been gnawing at the back of my mind ever since we arrived at the hospital, and it suddenly felt like now was the time to ask.

"Officer," I began, my voice unsteady, "how would someone go about filing for custody of an unborn baby?"

The officer's pen paused mid-note, and he lifted his eyes to meet mine, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity. "Custody of an unborn baby? That's... not a common question. But typically, custody issues are resolved after the baby is born. You can't really file for custody before then."

I nodded slowly, absorbing the information, but it wasn't enough. I needed to know more, I needed to protect my child. "And... what if I'm worried about the mother's ability to take care of the baby?"

The officer's brows furrowed, his gaze growing more concerned. "Mr. Collins, are you saying you believe the mother of your child is unfit? Is this why you're asking?"

I hesitated, feeling a wave of guilt wash over me. Rachel was the mother of my child, and despite everything, I didn't want to hurt her. But the thought of that innocent life, the child who had no say in any of this, was more important than protecting Rachel's feelings.

"It's Rachel's baby," I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air like a lead weight, and I saw the officer's eyes widen slightly.

"Rachel's?" he repeated, as if he was trying to process the information. He then looked over to the nurse, who had paused in her work, her expression suddenly cautious. "Is Rachel indeed pregnant?"