A Trumpeter's Lullaby

Chapter 1

"I won't kill our child," the thought lingering in my mind minutes after the realization hits; I continue, "How could you even ask this of me?"

I am confident now, my body is fragile, pale- sensually modest in the proceedings of my youth- today I stand before him a woman, someone that takes ownership of their actions. Indifferent; I feel an overwhelming desire to scream- the strings of my heart played by the musician as if it were a harp. The pain is barely bearable- slowly my hand slides to my breast once more; clutching its core. I watch him now, "is this what you wanted?" I ask; the tears slip more now, various dew drops flowing from my eyes, "why didn't you tell me before now?!" 
And if I shall perish with the thought of true love, your hands that attempt to strangle my heart will have no price to pay for the damage you've caused. If the spirits surrounding me taunt and torture our love, it must be meant for us to be. And if I shall hear the song of a thousand humming birds that sing a song which will cause my heart to swell, it'd be a day too late as I have already fallen madly in love with you. The lovely sounds of a soothing voice will soothe the wounds that burn with every embrace that will never be felt. Masked, I wonder if you will love me too, hidden behind the mask that has been created for this special occasion. And in this nightmare as I watch you from a far holding the hands of another- deep within their trance, my tears fall unseen and I am sad for coming.

My mood lacks excitement today; I stare at my book shelf whilst glancing at my most read novel lying effortless near my laptop. I adore the occasional romantic novel; the one of which depicts the rise and fall of my breathing
My voice is hoarse now, it mimics the feeling in my heart, "what am I supposed to do without you?"

He stays silent; pulling the strands of his hair behind his ears and rubbing his face,"you know I love you," he yells, "this is for the greater good." His eyes are angelic and hands as soft as lilac; he runs his hands over his eyelids and sighs, "I don't know what to do."
My nightmare is the equivalent of Maleficent's "happily ever after" - incredibly miserable. I acknowledge the reason for being indifferent; I'm indecisive at times when objectives call for otherwise.
My starry eyes are gloomy now and my heart a shade of blue; we hadn't acknowledged each other for far too long to even consider the possibilities of futile hopes. And though it seems to be a terrible illusion of what could be; my faith lies deeper than those whose horrid intentions exceed the number of fictional characters in Greek Mythology- hence, I embrace the sight of true love. Against all odds, tomorrow will be no better than the rest of days. The usual grazing upon the open pasture will be the highlight of tomorrow. Yes; I am sure, tomorrow will be yesterdays routine of morning hygiene and after care. Along with the usual nights sitting alone at home as I chatter amongst myself and maybe even the possibility of a movie or two would definitely become a task for tomorrow's activities.
I sighed; taking in my surroundings as I twisted the ends of my hair into a bun- today is Thursday.
I am dumbfounded; previously unaware that someone who I thought would never hurt me would have rejected our unborn child.
"Tell me," he starts; walking toward me and pulling my body within his embrace, "if we kept the baby, how will you take care of her while I'm away in Afghanistan?"

I gulp; swallowing my spit hard and clamping my hands along the back of his large physique.

I'd like to say depression started from the sudden notion to become a successful individual, but as tragic as it may seem; the cause is simply the fact I am barely capable to withstand the insignificant cheers of modern society-the vague perspectives of youth. I'd like to consider myself as the typical teenager; average I might add. Sensually modest in the proceedings of my actions; it's not everyday that a young girl such as myself can potentially survive in the world. Its cruel and demeaning ways leave me feeling hopeless and empty inside.

I let out a low groan, running my fingers through my hair. When did my life began to become complicated? I can recall the moment everything was going seemingly smoothe. There were the highs and lows of society, yet I always could manage a smile.
"What if I die," he starts, "I would have left you and my child to fend for themselves."
Something wet drips onto my back; it tickles a little, "then don't leave," I say, "please!"