Flickering Shadows

Leaving (Chapter 23)

LEAVING

I DID NOT speak. I did not eat or drink.  I could not even bring myself to take a shower and get dressed.  Doctors were worried; they threw around words like 'catatonic'.  I did not cheer up any, though, when they threatened to extend my stay.  I was let out right on schedule.

           Noon could not come fast enough. When it did, my things were packed and Kassandra-the schizophrenic girl who bit me-helped me take my things to the car. I waved to goodbye to everyone except Dylan.

           Everything happened so fast.  Kassandra yelled, "Look out!" I turned my head to the side and saw a car speeding towards me-they weren't slowing down.  Before I knew it, I was being shoved out of the way.  When I looked up, Kassandra was laying several yards away.  She did not move.  The car kept speeding along.

           People screamed; doctors ran out to check Kassandra; some people called the cops.  Other doctors and my peers were all over me, helping me up and asking me silly questions. Was I hurt?-no. Compared to Kassandra, the gouge on my forehead looked like nothing more than a paper cut. Dr. Bradshaw looked up at us with tears in her eyes. "She's gone."

After all the drama was done, I was free to go. Dylan came over. "Let me help you."

           "I got it." I mumbled, not looking at him. I continued to shove things in the trunk of my grandmother's car.

           "No, let me help." He tried to grab one of my boxes.

           "I got it!" I snapped, ripping it out of his hand.

           "Lucy, I am really sorry." He apologized. "I love you! I never meant to hurt you!"

           "Who are you? The Dylan I knew didn't hurt me, but he doesn't exist.  You were just pretending to be him all along-to learn my secrets and get into my dress."

           "I lied to you, yes. But not about important things!"

           "Goodbye, Dylan. You'll make a great reporter someday."  I slammed the trunk closed and got into the car.

           We drove off and Dylan ran after us.  Eventually he gave up.  He kicked a rock as hard as he could, and slumped off back into the gates of Beckingdale Mental Health Hospital. 

I could not attend Kassandra's funeral.  Her parents and relatives were all under the impression that I pushed her in front of the car, so showing up would not be a good idea.

           Dylan somehow found my Grandma's number, and called her house constantly.  My Grandma Emily was sick of it; she threatened to pick up and chat with him.

           Eventually the calls stopped.  But the first day I didn't receive a call, is the day I needed one the most.

           On August 1st, I had begun to feel some relief from a small flu bug that I had.  I decided to help out Emily and go grocery shopping for her.  While patrolling the aisles for shampoo, I spotted the pregnancy tests on a display.  I bought one on a whim.

           I paid for everything, and then went home to test.  "I can't be," I thought to myself in the car. "Can I?"

           I practically sprinted to the bathroom, I was so frantic.  Thankfully, she was out playing tennis with her friends.  I ripped the stick out of the box and did my business. While I waited for the results I put away the groceries.

           After fifteen minutes of worry, the results were in.  I closed my eyes, and opened them-there was a smiley face in the display box. I felt anything but happy.  My life had died.  Any hopes I had for college were gone.  I would have to tell Emily. Would I tell Dylan? Should I tell Dylan?

           I sat on the floor of the bathroom with my head in my hands considering my options. Option #1: I could give it up for adoption. No...I doubt I could let it go.  Option #2: I could keep it and raise it by myself. That was the most probable option.  Option #3: I could keep it and raise it with Dylan.  Could I forgive him though? I did not want to bring my baby's father into their life, if I could not get along with them.  Then there was Option #4: I could get an abortion.  No; I did not want to kill the baby.  I decided I would go with option number two, for now.

           I wondered what my Grandma Emily was going to say...

          

I didn't tell Grandma Emily that I was pregnant.  I did not want to think of what would happen once she found out. The though scared me. Though my due date-March second-was rapidly approaching, it was nearly February!  I was gaining weight like crazy. I tried to eat more in front of her, so she'd think it was just me getting fat and not baby weight.  I found a lot of loose t-shirts that disguised my belly somewhat. It was still obvious to everyone that I was pregnant.

           One evening, my grandma sat me down at the kitchen table.  "Lucy," she said in a firm voice. "I need to ask you something."

           I held my breath. "Alright."

           "Are you pregnant?"

           "Yes." I hung my head in shame.  "I'm sorry I didn't tell you; but I was worried that you would be mad!"

           "I am furious!" She cried, banging her fists on the table. "How could you let this happen to yourself? What are you going to do about it?"

           "I'm going to keep the baby." I said. I tried to sound strong, but her rage was terrifying me.

           "What? No!" Grandma gasped.

           "It is my baby.  I do not want to kill it, and I want to keep it.  You do not have control of this baby, I do. It is my decision."

           "But, Lucy, we don't have the money to raise this baby!"

           "I can manage; I have a good amount saved up."

           "Not nearly enough, I'm sure." She mumbled. "If you are going to keep the baby, you can just get out.  I don't want any of that in my house!"

           I was now a homeless, pregnant woman. My life had taken a turn for the worst.  Of course it had to turn for the worst.