Through The Glass.
folder
Original - Misc › Drugs and Alcohol
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
28
Views:
1,811
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › Drugs and Alcohol
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
28
Views:
1,811
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is an original work of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This work belongs to me, and plagirism and redistrubution without my consent is strictly prohibited.
Chapter 20
Author's Note: Sorry for not posting in a while, I've been caught up in quite a few things lately and haven't had much time to use the computer. I've hardly been able to sit and relax for twenty minutes. One year old's are a handful! Geez. Anywho, here goes, next installment of through the glass. Let me know what you think.
--Asphyxiate.Me.Baby.
A few days passed and all I did was mope around what became our apartment. I couldn't get over the argument with my parents and how hurt they actually looked. Part of me felt guilty for putting them through that suffering, and for not realizing sooner that they did, in fact, love me. But part of me was sinister, glad that they were suffering at home, alone, because they never gave me the love and affection I needed.
Matt always tried coaxing me, reminding me that everything would be okay as long as we were together. Most of the time I believed him. He tried to soothe me as I shook from the withdrawal of the meth that had kept me sane for nearly a year.
On my birthday, the day that marked a year since Matt and I had reunited, he took me to this amazing Italian restaurant, since he had discovered I was a sucker for Italian food, with beautiful flowers, delicious food, and then, made love to me, soft, gentle, passionate love to me, all night long until we fell asleep in each others embrace, his hand placed gently on my slightly growing tummy.
It wasn't much, but every week when I examined myself in the mirror, I saw my stomach bulging slightly, like a small bump, and in March, just as the cold began to dissipate, and signs of spring began to appear, I was five months pregnant and huge, much to my dismay. Matt loved it, always telling me how beautiful I looked, and how excited he was that I was carrying his son. We never asked for the baby's sex, but he was convinced it was a boy. He told me so all the time.
And it was one fairly warm day in March that I had an extremely bad craving for some frozen yogurt and potato chips. Matt was busy at work, so I grabbed a light spring jacket, and my purse, and decided to walk to the same deli where Matt and I had met that fateful night to buy some.
And after nearly eight months apart, I saw Chris again for the very first time.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
It's always awkward when you run into someone you weren't planning or didn't want to see again. I just tried to go on with my business, bending over the freezer carefully, trying to reach the pint of strawberry frozen yogurt that in some kind of sick twist of fate was at the very bottom of the freezer.
My stomach turned as I saw Chris step beside me, reaching for the frozen yogurt with ease and turning to face me. I practically snatched it from his grip and did my best to walk quickly to the register. He stood in line behind me, buying himself a bottle of Pepsi and a pack of cigarettes.
I walked out of the store, heading up the block towards my apartment when he jogged to my side.
"I'm really sorry about what happened that night, you know," Chris said, looking down with an almost ashamed expression. I chose to ignore him. "We had a really nice friendship."
Finally turning to face him, and feeling my bulging belly rub against his side, I sighed. "We did. Now what do you want, exactly?"
"Just to apologize," he said, staring down at my stomach. "I didn't know you were pregnant," his gaze averted to my eyes, "Congratulations."
"Thank you," I grumbled.
"Are you still with your baby's father?" It was a strange question to ask, but I thought to answer him anyway.
"Yep." I continued walking, staring straight ahead, wanting to drown him out. It was strange that a year after that incident had left me with all this pent up anger for what he did to me. How although I counted on him for my only source of love and support, he hurt and discarded me like trash.
He looked genuinely sorry, but that didn't seem like enough. "Is it someone I know?" He asked, and I watched as his gaze from time to time went to my belly.
I placed a hand on it gently, rubbing it softly, and looked up at him. "Matthew Silva," I replied. "I'm not sure if you remember him.
"I do. Wow. How did that happen?"
At that moment I snapped, "You were always so fucking ignorant, Chris. How the fuck do you think it happened, hm? Or should I try explaining it to you?"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It was a stupid thing to say." I nodded, and he continued, "Well, as long as you're happy."
I stepped in front of the door to my home, and turned back to look at him, and he appeared so tiny at the bottom of the steps. "For your information, I am."
I walked in and slammed the door.
--Asphyxiate.Me.Baby.
A few days passed and all I did was mope around what became our apartment. I couldn't get over the argument with my parents and how hurt they actually looked. Part of me felt guilty for putting them through that suffering, and for not realizing sooner that they did, in fact, love me. But part of me was sinister, glad that they were suffering at home, alone, because they never gave me the love and affection I needed.
Matt always tried coaxing me, reminding me that everything would be okay as long as we were together. Most of the time I believed him. He tried to soothe me as I shook from the withdrawal of the meth that had kept me sane for nearly a year.
On my birthday, the day that marked a year since Matt and I had reunited, he took me to this amazing Italian restaurant, since he had discovered I was a sucker for Italian food, with beautiful flowers, delicious food, and then, made love to me, soft, gentle, passionate love to me, all night long until we fell asleep in each others embrace, his hand placed gently on my slightly growing tummy.
It wasn't much, but every week when I examined myself in the mirror, I saw my stomach bulging slightly, like a small bump, and in March, just as the cold began to dissipate, and signs of spring began to appear, I was five months pregnant and huge, much to my dismay. Matt loved it, always telling me how beautiful I looked, and how excited he was that I was carrying his son. We never asked for the baby's sex, but he was convinced it was a boy. He told me so all the time.
And it was one fairly warm day in March that I had an extremely bad craving for some frozen yogurt and potato chips. Matt was busy at work, so I grabbed a light spring jacket, and my purse, and decided to walk to the same deli where Matt and I had met that fateful night to buy some.
And after nearly eight months apart, I saw Chris again for the very first time.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
It's always awkward when you run into someone you weren't planning or didn't want to see again. I just tried to go on with my business, bending over the freezer carefully, trying to reach the pint of strawberry frozen yogurt that in some kind of sick twist of fate was at the very bottom of the freezer.
My stomach turned as I saw Chris step beside me, reaching for the frozen yogurt with ease and turning to face me. I practically snatched it from his grip and did my best to walk quickly to the register. He stood in line behind me, buying himself a bottle of Pepsi and a pack of cigarettes.
I walked out of the store, heading up the block towards my apartment when he jogged to my side.
"I'm really sorry about what happened that night, you know," Chris said, looking down with an almost ashamed expression. I chose to ignore him. "We had a really nice friendship."
Finally turning to face him, and feeling my bulging belly rub against his side, I sighed. "We did. Now what do you want, exactly?"
"Just to apologize," he said, staring down at my stomach. "I didn't know you were pregnant," his gaze averted to my eyes, "Congratulations."
"Thank you," I grumbled.
"Are you still with your baby's father?" It was a strange question to ask, but I thought to answer him anyway.
"Yep." I continued walking, staring straight ahead, wanting to drown him out. It was strange that a year after that incident had left me with all this pent up anger for what he did to me. How although I counted on him for my only source of love and support, he hurt and discarded me like trash.
He looked genuinely sorry, but that didn't seem like enough. "Is it someone I know?" He asked, and I watched as his gaze from time to time went to my belly.
I placed a hand on it gently, rubbing it softly, and looked up at him. "Matthew Silva," I replied. "I'm not sure if you remember him.
"I do. Wow. How did that happen?"
At that moment I snapped, "You were always so fucking ignorant, Chris. How the fuck do you think it happened, hm? Or should I try explaining it to you?"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It was a stupid thing to say." I nodded, and he continued, "Well, as long as you're happy."
I stepped in front of the door to my home, and turned back to look at him, and he appeared so tiny at the bottom of the steps. "For your information, I am."
I walked in and slammed the door.