Cigarette Burns // FP Jones

Chapter Fourteen

I followed the nurse through the winding corridors of the clinic, until we reached a room on the east wing, and entered. She lay me down on the bed on top of a paper sheet, which smelled like chemicals. It was probably the hormones and heightened emotion that made it stand out more, but I felt my gag reflexes go. It was such a strong, unpleasant scent. She pulled up my shirt, putting tissue over it, and into my trousers to prevent the gel from ruining my clothes. With that, she squirted it on. It was cooling, slightly uncomfortable, but it excited me. I would finally see my child. Although I'd anticipated being pregnant for the first time to be much later in life, and under different circumstances, I knew it was right. 

I thought back to what I'd said to Jughead, and felt guilty. When I'd told him, I was determined to get rid of my beautiful child, but I was wrong to think that. I couldn't do it, and I wouldn't. It was wrong of me to ever think of getting an abortion, when I could do this. I could raise a child with FP, and potentially have more. Jughead and Jellybean would be siblings again. It would be amazing. 

"This is baby," The nurse pointed to the screen, and I watched the barely visible blob she was pointing to. As the probe moved around on my stomach, I kept my eyes on the peanut looking thing. I felt extremely emotional, seeing my child for the first time on the crackly screen. If only FP were here. I longed for his hand to be laced into mine, looking at our baby. She wrote down odd notes while searching in the sonogram. In that moment, I prayed everything was okay, and I made up my mind, that I would go through with this. I'm going to be a mom, the best mom. Whether FP wanted to be a part of our lives would be up to him, but I couldn't ruin this opportunity.
"It's healthy, growing really strong." The nurse informed me, shooting a smile. "Would you like the pictures?" She asked, and I nodded. This is how I'd tell him, I'd write him a card, and inside I'll put the pictures. It would be so perfect. And, I'll find a job to get the money. 

She handed them to me, and I looked over them again. It was harder to make out than I would have thought, but it didn't matter; it was perfect. 
"Do you have any questions?" She asked professionally. I thought for a second, carefully planning out what I would say. 
"Actually, I do." I said, looking her in the eye. "I'm eighteen, graduating in June. The father..." I trailed off, trying to craft this well. "He's quite a bit older and I'm worried he wouldn't support me." I continued, not really sure where I was going. "My parents won't support me." I added, as she didn't respond. 
"Hon, you gotta tell him." She put a hand on my shoulder. "Before you start showing, cause trust me, that will happen sooner than you think." 

I nodded, looking down to my small, bloated stomach. At the minute, the only bump was due to extra gas from pregnancy, but soon I'd have a huge tummy, with my child growing inside of it. I smiled. 
"If he doesn't like it, he will have to pay child support regardless. There's plenty of young mom shelters for girls who need a home." She handed me a leaflet, but I didn't accept it. 
"No, no, you're right. He will accept me, he loves me." I told her, unsure of whether I was reassuring the nurse, or myself. Maybe I'd be too much of a burden. 

I thanked her, wiping the gel off of my stomach and putting the pictures into my bag. The walk to the shop was quick, and I bought a cute card, it was blue with a small gold heart on the front of it. Stuffing it into my bag with the pictures, I made one last stop, to the garbage bin. I threw away my cigarettes, and lighter. It was slightly painful to say goodbye, but it was for the better. If I wanted my baby to be healthy, not have any disabilities due to my mistakes. It was growing dark outside, as it was around six o'clock before I made it anywhere close to the Wyrm. I'd take the short cut through a small shaded area, then reach the door. 

But as I walked between the trees, I felt someone grab me. Their grip was strong, and I couldn't fight off before they pulled me in, my back to their chest. I'd guessed they'd be at least six foot, which was starting to annoy me. If only I were the slightest bit taller. 
"Not so fast, Serpent." A deep voice whispered into my ear, and I tensed. A cool blade made its way to my throat, pressing into me. I shuddered in fear thinking about him hurting me, and now I had to take more care of myself. 
"Aren't you the new Jones?" The same voice questioned. I didn't reply, waiting a little while before kicking him in the groin by bending my foot back. He let go, and I ran forward, but I'd been tripped by someone else. I was grabbed again, by another male, larger than the last. It was then I watched other people, dressed in odd clothing, of robes, cropped tops, skulls, anything. Their faces painted white, much like chalk. Around their eyes were black shapes.  
"What, are you fucking AC/DC impressionists? What the fuck is this?" I shouted, bitterly. They didn't look impressed, instead screaming like banshees. The Wyrm wasn't far, I could probably run there if I was lucky. I just had to pick the right time. 

"I'm Malachai." The man who'd held me before said, cackling. He was insane. He snatched my bag from me, and I gulped. Tipping it on the floor, I watched in the dark as he picked up the pictures of my baby. I swallowed, hard. It wasn't apparent whether he'd go as far as to hurt a fetus, though I didn't feel particularly convinced of any safety at this point. 
"Wow!" He shouted. "Congratulations..." He read the top of the pictures. "Jasmine Cole. What a beautiful name." He edged closer to me, and I struggled in the clasp of the male holding me. He simply tightened his grip, causing me to wince as he bent my arm backward. 
"Is it a Jones?" He questioned. The knife that had been held to my throat was now at my cheek, and I didn't reply. 

I felt a stinging sensation as Malachai dug the knife into my cheek, and the blood ran down, washing in with the tears. "Is it a Jones?!" He screamed, and I tensed, not replying. 
"I think I know what that means, don't you?" He replied, laughing once again. I was shaking, feeling nauseous, scared. He wouldn't be so insane as to hurt my child, would he? At this point, I was like a deer in headlights. I looked around at the small crew of men an women around. They couldn't allow this. 

The knife trailed down my body, closer to my stomach, and I flinched. 
"Don't touch my baby." I screamed, beginning to cry more. He took the knife away from me. 
"I'm not that sick, am I?" He shouted, opening his arms, much like a theatrical artist. I felt somewhat comforted by his statement. I could take being hurt, but not if it put my baby in danger. The crowd hooted, but he shook his head. "I think I am." He whispered, and I gasped. He plunged the knife into my stomach and I screamed in agony, not just for myself, but for my child. The man behind me dropped my body to the floor, and I fell onto my knees, on all fours. Malachai and his group laughed, running away, and I was left with a now torn scan photo, and a bloody stomach. 

Crying, I pushed myself up, putting the image into my pocket, and limping as best as I could back to the Wyrm, trying to get some help.