5. Somewhere a child was starving
SOMEWHERE A CHILD WAS STARVING
“Truth has a way of revealing itself regardless, I would be more concerned—” Dr. Avery halted his whispers, and I looked up to see Cole awake, staring.
Cole muttered something about a call, and when he came close, I flinched back, not really sure why.
Hurt flashed in his eyes before he slammed the door shut.
“Well this complicates things,” a short, bitter laugh left my lips. “Would you have told me if I didn’t trade you my trauma?”
“No. Although what you choose to do with the information is entirely up to you. You are within the window. The procedure would not compromise future fertility.” The paper crumpled in my hand the longer I gripped it.
My breath caught in my throat the longer I stared at that result.
I knew they’d removed the IUD in the hospital, but I didn’t think my body would snap back so quick.
“How did you get my blood?” My voice rose an octave as panic started to settle over my senses.
“Karter.” He plucked the sheet out of my hands. Replacing it with a glass of water. I didn’t say anything until the entire cup was empty. Dr. Avery just watched, letting me digest the news. Pregnant.
Somewhere a child was starving, and my body was creating another.
“How could he?”
“Sex and opportunity. Motivations aside, it was most interesting results.” Dr. Avery spoke matter-of-factly, as if he were very sure of himself.
“Oh.” It was all I could say. Why should I have a child when my own is missing?
A pang of guilt wove itself through my body.
Tears slid down my face. Pregnancy wasn’t my choice the first time; to have it now felt wrong.
Could I do that to myself? I didn’t trust my mind and turned towards the doctor.
My eyes darted towards the door, half expecting Karter to show up or, worse, Cole.
I couldn’t do that to him again. He’s been nothing but supportive and always wanting the best for me.
I glanced down at my hands and noticed they were on my stomach.
New life, would I be a good mother to this one?
I didn’t know anymore. I looked at Dr. Avery, half expecting an emotion I knew he never held.
“What would you do?” My hands shook from nervousness. He didn’t offer me any comfort. Not that I wanted his comfort. “Wait.”
Something wasn’t right. I grabbed the edge of the paper I had crumpled moments before. Dr. Avery watched without comment. The results were in my hands.
August ninth … eight weeks. Not six weeks. Not Dustin. The room tilted.
“What do you mean you had to sedate her,” Scott’s voice filtered through, distorted, almost.
“She experienced an episode, a psychological evaluation would be best before we can release her,” Karter’s voice responded.
“A psych eval? She was fine yesterday,” Scott urged.
There were more words, but I couldn’t keep up; something didn’t feel right.
Cool fingers wrapped around my wrist as the words blurred.
I felt the weight of my own body betraying me.
Warm lips pressed against mine. A mouth I hadn’t asked to kiss me.
Karter’s warm smile flashed behind my eyelids, and the chilling whisper seized control of the moment. “Relax. You’ll feel good.”
I barely made it to the side of the bed as vomit surged up my esophagus. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand as the cold sweat settled on my neck. The truth settled in my bones like ice. Karter raped me.
My heart drummed against my chest as I pulled myself up.
I didn’t look at Dr. Avery. I didn’t want to see pity.
Or worse — vindication. It took me a long time to swallow back the bile that threatened to appear again.
When I finally dragged my eyes up, he wasn’t surprised.
He wasn’t horrified. He wasn’t even curious. He studied me.
“You knew,” I whispered.
Not a question, but a statement.
Dr. Avery tilted his head slightly. Contemplating whether I deserved the truth or not.
“Yes.”
“How long?” My voice cracked despite my best efforts to keep it steady.
His critical gaze never wavered, and that made it worse.
“Long enough.”
Air wouldn’t fill my lungs. I’d stop processing bodily functions in order to process this news.
“Since August ninth?”
He didn’t answer. It was answer enough. A cold calmness settled within me. I didn’t have the luxury of breaking down again. There were more important things.
I met his eyes, letting the cold settle in. Whatever detachment lived in him, I mirrored it.
“I’m done with your services. You may go. I’ll schedule soon.”
“Very well,” he replied smoothly.
The corner of his mouth twitched upwards — almost pleased — before he gathered the paper and his bag.
He left without another word. The door clicked shut and my hand drifted to my stomach. Schedule soon, but not for what he thought.