22. Graduation Day
GRADUATION DAY
Mike's fists slammed with urgency against the door of the medical office, my eyes hopelessly wandering as early morning chaos swirled around us. We had been driving through the dark, relentless hours since nearly midnight, and now, nearly five in the morning, the streets still hummed with life. Even at this unholy hour, people walked briskly without care. Mike’s stubborn fist struck again and again, each blow echoing his frustration, his helplessness boiling over in a roar of rage.
Suddenly, the door swung open to reveal a tall man—dark-haired, piercing green eyes—whose calm voice cut through the tension despite the disarray of his hair. “What?” He was cold and indifferent.
“I’m looking for Dr. Karter Reed,” Mike managed, his voice overflowing with urgency. The man simply shook his head, opening the door wider as if to tell us we should come in.
“Get in, and don’t touch anything,” he commanded, his words firm but contained.
We followed behind the imposing figure through winding corridors, each step heavy with unspoken fears, until we reached a vast, sterile open space.
The room was fully stocked—everything needed for any medical emergency seemed to stare back at us.
I turned slowly, absorbing the scene, and my gaze landed on a woman seated on a bed.
Her eye was bandaged, her arm cradled in a small brace, yet she still radiated an undeniable beauty—dressed in a vibrant green dress, braids cascading down her back with effortless Bohemian grace.
I waved her over, and she offered a gentle smile, igniting a flicker of hope amidst the chaos.
“Casey, you may go now,” the tall man said softly. She looked at him, silently understanding, and nodded before leaving. He turned to us, pulling out his phone, checking something briefly, then looked us over with measured eyes. “Let me guess—you're Grayson’s kid?”
“Yeah,” Mike answered shortly, a mixture of hope and dread shadowing his voice.
Then before I could stop myself, the words spilled out impolitely, “Who are you?”
His expression didn’t change. “Dr. Lucas Avery—the doctor who's going to get rid of your problem.” If he felt anything about my situation he hid it better than anyone I’d ever met.
The words hit me hard, like a blow I hadn’t seen coming. My stomach clenched with a mixture of fear and defiance. I watched Mike’s face, noticing a flicker of sadness flash behind Dr. Avery’s eyes when he asked about Uncle Karter. Guilt gnawed at me—was I pushing away hope? Was I already giving up?
“It’s been a while since you talked to your grandparents. If you want to follow that path… get out and go to the hospital,” Dr. Avery said flatly.
“We can’t,” my voice small and fragile against the weight of our reality.
“How old are you?” he pressed, walking slowly around me, studying me.
“Seventeen,” I whispered, feeling my vulnerability laid bare.
“Dr. Avery—” Mike started, but was cut off.
“I’ll do it once,” the doctor interrupted coldly, as if making a distant, routine decision. “If it happens again, you’re on your own.”
My breath caught—my heart pounding painfully—what was he saying? What did he mean if it happens again?
“You need an abortion, and I am capable of performing them,” he stated flatly, grabbing gloves with deliberate purpose.
Why? The question burst inside me—why? What cruel, twisted boredom made someone like him choose this? There was no compassion in his face—only detachment, a stark reality of this life-changing moment reduced to a procedural checklist.
He asked for our blood types, indifferent to the gravity hanging in the air. A positive and O-negative. He dismissed us with clipped commands, wanting to get this over with—they were just words: problem, procedure, as if it was a simple stain or cavity, not the life within me.
I slipped outside into a small room to change into the gown he handed me, as I fought back tears. Returning, I saw Mike filling a blood bag with quiet determination, his face a mask of support—fragile but steady.
“Why do you need his blood?” I asked quietly, curiosity blending with dread.
“My supply’s low from recent events,” he answered curtly, dismissing the question with a flick of his hand.
“What events?” I pressed, but his eyes grew cold, impatient.
“You ask too many questions. Either follow me or don’t,” he snapped, striding out, leaving us in a whirlwind of uncertainty. Mike’s weak smile tried to offer comfort, but it couldn’t mask the fear gripping my chest.
Dr. Avery moved swiftly, his steps urgent and commanding, leaving me breathless trying to keep pace despite my long legs fighting against the rush.
Each turn felt impossible to remember, my heart pounding louder with every second.
We finally burst into a smaller, sterile room—the air thick with tension—and there she was, the woman in the mask and gown, her presence both clinical and cold.
A tray of ominous tools sat nearby, silent witnesses to what was about to happen.
“Get on the table and open your legs,” Dr. Avery commanded, his voice sharp yet heavy with unspoken gravity.
My body instinctively obeyed, climbing onto the cold table as my legs found their place in the stirrups.
Casey, the nurse, reached for my arm, her hands visibly shaking—her fear mirrored mine—as she drew nearer with the IV needle.
“Casey,” Dr. Avery’s voice cut through the room like a warning shot, his tone firm and unyielding.
Casey’s hesitation was tangible; she dropped the needle onto the tray and hurried out, leaving a shroud of silence and unanswered questions.
I wanted to cry out, to understand, to ask why she acted that way, but fear and silence clenched my throat tighter than ever.
As Dr. Avery pressed the cold, unforgiving needle into my arm and fine-tuned the machine, I felt my resolve wavering.
And then, as I struggled to ask how long this would last, my eyes fluttered shut—an involuntary surrender to the overwhelming surge of emotion, uncertainty, and dread that gripped me from within.
“Come on, Charlotte. We have to go now, please.” Mike’s voice shattered through the silence, urgently pulling me from the soft cocoon of sleep.
Confusion clouded my mind, but then a sharp, searing pain gripped my lower abdomen, forcing me to double over in agony.
Thank God for the wheelchair that caught me, holding me steady in the chaos.
“Thank you, Dr. Avery,” he snapped, so tense and frantic as he helped me rise. His voice was edged with frustration and worry—an unbearable weight weighing down on him.
“Don’t come back,” he commanded coldly, his outstretched hand holding out that small bottle of pills, offering me a fleeting hope amidst the storm.
I took it, my head spinning, legs wobbling beneath me, fighting against the dizzying darkness threatening to consume me.
Mike held me tightly, his grip firm and protective as we hurried around the building toward the car, every step agonizing.
“Fucking prick,” he muttered bitterly after strapping me in, a fury in his voice that echoed his helplessness and anger.
It hurt to even speak, but I forced the words out: “It’s not so bad,” I lied, though nausea clawed at my insides, threatening to overwhelm me.
He looked at me sharply, concern etched in his eyes. “Are you sure you want to go to Lee’s graduation?” he asked, voice strained with worry as he pulled onto the street.
“Yeah,” I whispered, every fiber of my being knowing I was risking everything. “If I don’t go, I’ll be in huge trouble.” A heavy sigh escaped me—fear, exhaustion, fighting to stay strong.
Mike’s voice softened just slightly. “Alright, then. Take two of those pills, close your eyes, and rest. We’ve got a long drive ahead, and I need you to hold on.”
Mike gently nudged me awake as we pulled into the high school’s parking lot. “Charlotte, we’re here,” he nudged me.
A faint moan escaped my lips as I pulled my shirt over my head, the gown clinging to my skin from sleep, heavy and uncomfortable. My stomach knotted with nerves and exhaustion, yet I forced myself to move, to brace myself for what was ahead.
He reached out and carefully smoothed the back of my shirt down while I yanked the gown off, my movements tense. I slid into my leggings, feeling a sharp sting of discomfort that mirrored my inner turmoil.
“You know you don’t have to go,” Mike said softly, glancing at the door as a flood of cars rolled in—each one another reminder of the day’s weight. I checked my phone, my heart pounding, and saw a message from Lilly.
Lilly: Lee said you were going to meet us at the school, so I caught a ride with him.
I quickly silenced the screen and tucked my phone into my purse, a fragile attempt at hiding my unease.
Mike's hand gently placed a bottle of pills into mine. “Text me if you need anything. I can pick you up when it’s over,” he said, his voice thick with concern.
He stepped away, leaving me wrapped in a swirl of emotion.
“Mike?” I called out, with a surge of gratitude and fear swirling inside me.
“Yeah?” he replied, opening the driver’s side door.
“Thanks—for everything. You’re a good friend,” I managed, my voice barely a whisper, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. Without waiting for more, I turned and started toward the school’s entrance, my heart pounding in my chest.
They’d be lining up seats in the gym, but I needed to find Lee and Lilly first. I knew Lee’s aversion to crowds; he wouldn’t be with the rest of the seniors.
Heart pounding, I moved slowly down the hall, passing the locker rooms and the cafeteria, watching students and teachers filling their stomachs before the ceremony.
Just as despair threatened to swallow me whole, a familiar, jarring laughter drew me in.
I followed the sound to an abandoned classroom—an old, neglected space craving renovation.
“You brought me a present?” Lee’s voice was calm, almost seductive, a dangerous softness that made my blood run cold.
“How thoughtful.” The rustling of clothes and another burst of Lilly’s laughter echoed through the room.
“Now, be a good girl and suck my cock, and I might let you go back to my sister,” Lee hissed, his words laced with menace.
Lilly’s voice, playful yet defiant, responded, “What if I don’t want to wait for Charlotte?”
My heart tore apart, each beat a sharp, piercing ache that sank deep into my chest, as if icy claws had seized my lungs and refused to let go. My body froze in place helpless, clutching the wall as if it were my only lifeline, desperate to hold onto some semblance of stability amidst the chaos.
My eyes were glued to Lee’s figure—frozen in shock—yet my gaze betrayed me, stealing in a flash to Lilly’s knees hitting the cold floor.
It was like a dagger twisting into my very soul.
In that devastating instant, my chest shattered into a thousand pieces, breaking anew, overwhelmed by a storm of helpless rage and unspeakable grief that crashed over me like relentless waves.
An inferno ignited within, fiery and uncontrollable, burning through my veins with the intensity of a thousand suns.
I somehow made it back to the gym, every step heavy with grief, every breath a struggle as the pain in my body intensified, clawing its way through me.
Then Dad arrived—out of place yet unmistakably himself in his expensive suit—an image of pride in a moment I could hardly bear.
His presence, so composed and confident, made my insides churn with even deeper turmoil.
"Charlotte, how are you feeling?" he asked, studying me with that scrutinizing gaze, as if trying to decipher my worth in that fleeting moment.
“I’m fine,” I managed to whisper, voice trembling, “just on my period.” I hunched over, clutching my stomach, trying to hold onto what little strength I had left.
“Oh dear, we should get you to see the doctor. I’ve been reading that birth—”
“Dad, not now,” I cut him off with a strained groan, sinking into a chair, overwhelmed by everything.
He looked for Lee, eyes narrowing slightly. “Leeroy, where have you been hiding?” he asked, and I looked up—Lee smiling, cap tilted jauntily on his head, his gown out of place, as if he didn’t quite belong here.
“Hey, Dad,” Lee said casually, “I was just checking on the team. Some of them were having trouble figuring out the cords.”
Lilly slid into the seat beside me, wrapping her arms around me in a gentle, comforting hug. “Cramps?” she asked softly, voice filled with genuine concern, as I doubled over, a wave of nausea swallowing me whole.
I nodded—what else could I do to keep from breaking completely? My mind raced frantically, questioning how long this had been happening behind my back, whether I had been foolish all along, blind to the truth.
Throughout the ceremony, Lilly kept her hand on my thigh, rubbing soothing circles, trying to chase away the storm within me.
Conflicting feelings ripped through my heart—hope and despair, love and betrayal.
Maybe Lilly didn’t love him, I tried to cling to that fragile thought.
Maybe it was just a fleeting mistake, a one-time thing.
When the ceremony finally ended, I hurried to get in a car with my dad, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me—my shattered heart, the ache in my body, the gnawing suspicion that nothing would ever be the same again.