If Looks Could Kill (Sideshow Bob Fanfiction)

Chapter Thirty-Two

Author's Note:

This will be another chapter about Caitlyn, but also about Bob too. Possible trigger warning.

Enjoy!

Chapter 32

Caitlyn looked down at her stomach, almost mesmerised that inside, was another life.

She couldn't help but remember the first time.

*FLASHBACK*

Caitlyn was trembling with fear as she sat in the abortion clinic room. Her mom was beside her, but wouldn't look at her. Caitlyn knew that her mom was ashamed of her , far beyond forgiving her. Her father still hadn't returned since he had stormed out in tears. She had never felt so afraid in her little, pathetic life.

"Caitlyn Williams!"

"I'm so sorry," she whispered to her stomach as she got up from the seat.

She was about to terminate her three week long pregnancy- she was about to become a murderer, and she hated it.

*END OF FLASHBACK*

Caitlyn lay down on her cream leather couch and stared blankly at the ceiling, brooding.

"Are you up there?" Caitlyn whispered, "Do you forgive me for what I did to you?"

Hot tears trickled down her cheeks as she listened, though not really expecting an answer. She was unsure of who she was talking to, but either way, she hoped that both her father and her terminated child could hear her.

"I'm sorry for killing you both," she whispered, wiping away another bout of tears.

*Meanwhile in Bob's apartment*

Bob put his book down on the arm of the settee. He couldn't see any point in reading; it wasn't having the effect that it usually had. He hadn't been dragged out of reality by the story; his problems and worries were still surrounding him, hitting him likes punches to the head. Groaning, Bob rested his head in his head and tried to massage the headache away.

"Maybe another cup of tea will help me relax?" Bob pondered aloud. Bob went into his kitchen and boiled the kettle. As he lifted the kettle to fill his cup, a packet of Ibuprofen caught his glance. 

"Why didn't I think of them before?" Bob sighed and took the packet down from the shelf and took two with a glass of water before sipping his tea. The tea tasted strange; it tasted like metal! Like blood almost...

Abruptly, Bob began hacking, his stomach heaving. Blood came from his lips and dripped through his hands, splattering on to the kitchen tiles. Coughing loudly, fear flighted through him, seeing the amount of blood that was staining the floor.

Bob gripped the counter-top's side, his eyes watering and his throat burning. His mouth had an awful metallic blood taste in it, but at least he had finally stopped coughing. Bob took his hand away at stared, wide eyed, in horror at his hand; it was covered in crisom. 

Bob had been feeling a little nauseous all day, but he hadn't expected this to happen. Stress and grief had finally got the better of him; this seemed to be the consequence. Bob stood, holding on to the counter top, for another few moments before he decided to risk letting go. 

Almost immediately, he grabbed hold of it again as the room began spinning slowly. He braced himself as his stomach muscles clenched again, heaving. As he expected, another lot of blood was thrown up on to the floor- or at least he hope it was the floor; the room was spinning so badly that he couldn't even tell. His panic intensified as he felt his lungs tighten, and his breaths grow rapid. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe! He couldn't breathe!

His legs buckled beneath him and he hit the floor, unconsciousness seizing him.