Five Years Ago

"Babe, come here!" Dawn shouts from the bathtub. "The baby's kicking!"

My fork drops loudly onto my plate as I leap up from my chair, and hurdle over furniture to get to the bathroom as fast as I can.

Dawn is giggling, her two hands resting over her belly as she draws circles with her fingers on her skin.

I place a hand on her lower abdomen and smile, overjoyed, as a tiny flutter from the inside of her stomach creates small ripples in the water.

Another kick follows, and I can't help but grin from ear to ear. Looking up, I stare into Dawn's blue eyes.

"I love you," I say as I rub her belly.

She looks at me, her eyes unreadable.

"And I love you."

She smiles, but it doesn't touch her eyes.

"I have a doctor's appointment at noon today," Dawn explains. "I'll stop by your job after to let you know how it went."

She moves to get up, and I help her out of the water. The suds stick to her body as she places each foot on the bath mat.

I give her a quick kiss on her forehead as she wraps her bathrobe around her body.

"See you later little one," I say to the small bump, and exit the bathroom.

***

Each day that passes by is like a weight being stacked on my shoulders.

Dawn is about twenty weeks along, and has been having complications with her pregnancy. She visits with her OBGYN frequently. She doesn't allow me to come with her, saying that it's just a bunch of boring tests and routines, and so I just wait patiently for her to call.

All I want is for my baby to be born healthy, but Dawn makes it impossible for me to even know what's going on.

Calm down. She'll let you know if anything serious is happening. I assure myself.

Right then, Dawn comes through the door. She drops her car keys in the bowl on the entryway table, and shrugs off her sweater.

She seems upset.

And that's when I notice something off about her stomach.

Where's the small bump?

Where's my baby?

***

"I'm so sorry, Chris! I had to do it! The doctor said I didn't have any other options!" Dawn sobs.

She stands in the doorway of our room, her small figure shuttering with each inhale that she takes.

I'm sitting on the end of the bed, stunned into complete silence.

My baby. Our baby.

She, or he, is gone.

And there's nothing I can do about it.

I rest my elbows on my knees, and put my face in my hands, wanting to pretend like none of this happened. Tears fall down my cheeks and soak into my cotton t-shirt, but I don't care. I just want my unborn child back.

I can't help the negative thoughts that bulldoze their way through my brain.

Life is meaningless now. I don't have anything to live for. I should take those scissors and slit my wrists.

"Chris! Please, please don't be mad. I'm so sorry!" Dawn weeps.

Why am I being so selfish? I should be comforting her! The mental process of an abortion alone is traumatic, and she has to deal with the impact that this procedure has had on her body, as well.

I look up at my wife with red, puffy eyes.

She's heartbroken, I can see that.

Her stance is defeated; she slouches in the doorway, unable to hold herself up any longer.

I get up from the bed, my feet trudging slowly beneath me.

She looks up at me, her crystal clear, sea-blue eyes full of tears, and then she throws her arms around my neck in a tight embrace.

"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she bawls over and over into my chest.

"Shh," I console, stroking her long, blonde hair. "Everything will be fine. Everything is gonna be okay," I promise her, but I find it hard to believe the words myself.

***

"What would you like for dinner tonight?" Dawn asks, opening the refrigerator door to see what we have.

I shrug my shoulders.

"I don't care," I say in a monotonous tone.

She glances over her shoulder at me, but doesn't say anything in return.

Finally, she shuts the refrigerator door and turns around to face me.

Her arms cross over her chest, and I automatically look down at her belly.

There's nothing there. There's no baby anymore. I remind myself.

I pick up the remote sitting next to me on the couch to flip through the channels.

"Chris?" Dawn's voice is just a faint background noise as I concentrate on my most recent distraction: reality television.

Lately, I haven't really been "all there". My clothing choices are drab, and mostly consist of sweatpants and bleach stained t-shirts. My beard has gotten way out of control and closely resembles that of a caveman. I can't even remember the last time I showered, maybe a couple days ago?

The scotch bottle that sits on the coffee table is almost empty, so I move to grab another one.

I stand from the sofa, and walk over to the liquor cabinet to get one, but there isn't anymore in there.

"Dammit Dawn! I thought I told you to get more scotch!" I shout, slamming my fist onto the glass cabinet door.

The pane shakes and then the glass cracks, sending large shards toppling to the oak floors, and shattering into tiny pieces.

I scoff, amused at how shitty my life seems to be. First the scotch and now this? I can't catch a break.

I look to Dawn for validation, but what I see instead, frightens me.

It's my own reflection in the mirror across from the liquor cabinet. My eyes are bloodshot — either from the weed I've been smoking, or the alcohol, I don't actually know — and my hair is unruly. I look like a crazy person, and it should scare me.

Dawn isn't here.

She hasn't been here for months. She left me shortly after her abortion, serving me with divorce papers about a week later; probably because I flipped shit on her when she told me the real reason she went through with the procedure.

She wasn't having complications, she was having cold feet. She didn't know if she wanted the baby, so she lied to me and told me that she had doctors appointments when really, she was just hiding out somewhere in her car.

Eventually, she went through with the abortion, and left me out of the decision making process.

I got angry, a little too angry, and I broke a lot of things around the apartment.

What I'm seeing, isn't real.

It's probably from the excess amount of alcohol and drugs in my system.

I look around my messy apartment; the chair I knocked over remains in its spot near the window, the glass plates Dawn got me as a gift for our first year of marriage lie broken on the kitchen floor.

Whatever. I don't care anymore. I haven't for awhile.

I didn't care when Dawn left me, I didn't care when I lost my job, and I sure as hell don't care if I'm going crazy.

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We finally got a chapter on Chris and Dawn's past! What do you think? Is Dawn as evil as you thought she was? Did she deserve the treatment that Chris gave to her? Do you think there's more to this story?

Leave your predictions/feedback in the comments! I want to hear what you think!

As always, don't forget to VOTE ⭐️