Through The Glass.
folder
Original - Misc › Drugs and Alcohol
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
28
Views:
1,813
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › Drugs and Alcohol
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
28
Views:
1,813
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 22
Author's Note: Hate me, please.
-----
I woke up in a hospital room, full of doctors and nurses hustling and bustling and shouting around me. It looked like a nightmare.
"She's awake, doctor!" I heard one of the nurses yell.
"Fine, please request a pitocin, we'll be ready in twenty," an older man, in his 40s, perhaps, told the nurse, who went fleeting away. He walked towards me calmly, a smile planted on my face that did nothing but make me panic. "Allison, how are you feeling?"
I panicked. "What's going on?" I asked, my eyes darting from one side of the room to the next. "What's happening?" My hands flew to my stomach. "My baby… Is my baby okay?"
Suddenly a hush fell over the room and I began to feel uneasy. Deep down I knew what the doctor was going to say, but I didn't want to believe it. I had done everything to protect my baby, everything to make things right. This just couldn't happen.
"We did everything we could, Allison," he said solemnly. "I'm very sorry."
At that very moment, the reality I already knew to be true came crashing down on me like a ton of bricks. I screamed in agony and despair, I cried in sadness and mourning, and my heart was heavy with sorrow.
The nurse that had been by my bedside moments before returned with a bag of a clear liquid. "Pitocin's here, doctor."
In my mind I knew I had heard that name before. I'd read about it in my pregnancy books. It was a drug used to help women go into labor quickly. Then it clicked together in my head, like chains in a lock, what it was they were trying to do.
I screaming, panicking, ripping the IV out of my arm and sobbing at the head of the bed. The doctors and the nurses didn't respond, they just stood and stared. I didn't know what to do or what to think. I just wanted to die at that very moment.
And finally, I realized that it had to be done, that there was no hope anymore for my unborn child. I did my best to calm down and relax as the IV was put back in my arm. I pushed as hard as I could when they told me to, and then, they asked me if I wanted to see him.
Him. The little boy that Matt had always told me our child would be. An overwhelming hatred and anger grew at the thought of Matt. But my mind, full of curiosity and sadness, wanted to see that little boy, my son, for the first and last time of both of our lives.
And just after I had a quick peek at the baby that I had begun to love more than my very own life, he was whisked away from me while I was wheeled into a recovery room, never to be seen again.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I was so distraught that the nurses had to give me a sedative. I ended up drifting into a peaceful, dreamless sleep, away from the trauma and the pain that I was suffering. Away from Matt. Away from the doctors and nurses. Ever since I was little I had always hated hospitals. They were cold and sterile and uninviting.
When I awoke, I saw Matt sitting so still and quietly on the armchair by my bed. He looked so vulnerable and tired that I almost felt bad for him. But almost instantly my heart was flooded with anger and resentment towards him, so much so that I turned away from his gaze and looked the other way.
"Allison?" He whispered, so quietly, like a child. I didn't respond? "Allison, please," he continued to whine. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to physically hurt him. But I was so tired right now. I was in so much emotional and physical pain that the most I could do was to clench my bed sheets in my fist.
I heard sniffles and whimpers as Matt cried, and suddenly, I snapped. I turned around slowly, deliberately, shimmying as close to him as I could. He looked up, his eyes reddened with tears. I placed my hand to his face tenderly. And then, I slapped him.
He looked up at me sadly, but I had no remorse. My heart was cold. "What the fuck are you crying for?" I spat. He looked stunned. "This is all your goddamn fault! All you ever think about is yourself!"
I broke down in tears, choking, hiccupping sobs that I thought would last a lifetime. But, between them I spoke. "You killed him."
He looked stunned and saddened, "Allison, it was an accident."
"You killed him!" I yelled even louder. "You murderer!" He did his best to wrap his arms around me as I struggled against him, until finally, due to exhaustion, I collapsed into his embrace him. "I hate you!" I whimpered. "You killed my son, I hate you!"
But both of us knew that my words weren't true.
-----
I woke up in a hospital room, full of doctors and nurses hustling and bustling and shouting around me. It looked like a nightmare.
"She's awake, doctor!" I heard one of the nurses yell.
"Fine, please request a pitocin, we'll be ready in twenty," an older man, in his 40s, perhaps, told the nurse, who went fleeting away. He walked towards me calmly, a smile planted on my face that did nothing but make me panic. "Allison, how are you feeling?"
I panicked. "What's going on?" I asked, my eyes darting from one side of the room to the next. "What's happening?" My hands flew to my stomach. "My baby… Is my baby okay?"
Suddenly a hush fell over the room and I began to feel uneasy. Deep down I knew what the doctor was going to say, but I didn't want to believe it. I had done everything to protect my baby, everything to make things right. This just couldn't happen.
"We did everything we could, Allison," he said solemnly. "I'm very sorry."
At that very moment, the reality I already knew to be true came crashing down on me like a ton of bricks. I screamed in agony and despair, I cried in sadness and mourning, and my heart was heavy with sorrow.
The nurse that had been by my bedside moments before returned with a bag of a clear liquid. "Pitocin's here, doctor."
In my mind I knew I had heard that name before. I'd read about it in my pregnancy books. It was a drug used to help women go into labor quickly. Then it clicked together in my head, like chains in a lock, what it was they were trying to do.
I screaming, panicking, ripping the IV out of my arm and sobbing at the head of the bed. The doctors and the nurses didn't respond, they just stood and stared. I didn't know what to do or what to think. I just wanted to die at that very moment.
And finally, I realized that it had to be done, that there was no hope anymore for my unborn child. I did my best to calm down and relax as the IV was put back in my arm. I pushed as hard as I could when they told me to, and then, they asked me if I wanted to see him.
Him. The little boy that Matt had always told me our child would be. An overwhelming hatred and anger grew at the thought of Matt. But my mind, full of curiosity and sadness, wanted to see that little boy, my son, for the first and last time of both of our lives.
And just after I had a quick peek at the baby that I had begun to love more than my very own life, he was whisked away from me while I was wheeled into a recovery room, never to be seen again.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I was so distraught that the nurses had to give me a sedative. I ended up drifting into a peaceful, dreamless sleep, away from the trauma and the pain that I was suffering. Away from Matt. Away from the doctors and nurses. Ever since I was little I had always hated hospitals. They were cold and sterile and uninviting.
When I awoke, I saw Matt sitting so still and quietly on the armchair by my bed. He looked so vulnerable and tired that I almost felt bad for him. But almost instantly my heart was flooded with anger and resentment towards him, so much so that I turned away from his gaze and looked the other way.
"Allison?" He whispered, so quietly, like a child. I didn't respond? "Allison, please," he continued to whine. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to physically hurt him. But I was so tired right now. I was in so much emotional and physical pain that the most I could do was to clench my bed sheets in my fist.
I heard sniffles and whimpers as Matt cried, and suddenly, I snapped. I turned around slowly, deliberately, shimmying as close to him as I could. He looked up, his eyes reddened with tears. I placed my hand to his face tenderly. And then, I slapped him.
He looked up at me sadly, but I had no remorse. My heart was cold. "What the fuck are you crying for?" I spat. He looked stunned. "This is all your goddamn fault! All you ever think about is yourself!"
I broke down in tears, choking, hiccupping sobs that I thought would last a lifetime. But, between them I spoke. "You killed him."
He looked stunned and saddened, "Allison, it was an accident."
"You killed him!" I yelled even louder. "You murderer!" He did his best to wrap his arms around me as I struggled against him, until finally, due to exhaustion, I collapsed into his embrace him. "I hate you!" I whimpered. "You killed my son, I hate you!"
But both of us knew that my words weren't true.