Page 6 of Lost In London

Dressed in sweats, a wife beater, crocs, and a durag, he winched stretching his back. “Shut your smart ass up. I think I fucked up my back.” Grabbing the remote, he muted the loud music.

“Please leave, Cassian. You booked me a room to enjoy the weekend and I’d…”

His face morphed into several expressions, settling on a scrunched mug. “Hell no. Fuck all that. Something big as hell and powerful woke my ass up out of my sleep. We’re going to say it was God cause I refuse to believe Atlas got me smoking weed that has me hallucinating about the boogeyman being real.” His shoulders sagged along with his head. “That voice was so loud and sounded like thunder. All it kept saying was to save you, London. Over and over that’s all it kept saying. I tried to ignore it and go back to sleep but it only got louder and then it pushed me out the bed. Had me thinking Noelani came from the grave and was haunting me. I even called Amell to lay hands on me when his parable ass told me to do what was asked of me. Talk to me… please.”

One minute I went from finally having peace to shaking with anger all over again. God was once again trying to steal my happiness. Ending my life would’ve brought so much peace and joy. The suffering would’ve ended. No more pain and now God wanted to involve Cassian.

What was the purpose?

Fed up, I stomped over to my purse and took out the six sticks of hell. Turning to face him, I threw them all at him. “This is what’s wrong with me.”

Trying to catch them all, he caught three and the rest hit the carpet. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need the others to see what curse had been cursed upon me. One test was good enough. “What… damn, London.” His shoulders slacked and those brown eyes of his were full of pity.

“I don’t need your pity.” My body shook and became hot. “I just want it to stop hurting, Cass. That’s all.” I wrapped my arms around my middle and started another round of sobs. “I want Him to stop allowing others to hurt me.” My legs had finally lost the battle. I fell to the floor crying in all my shame.

I’ve done some wild things in my life, especially in college. Having the freedom from my overbearing parents and being released into the wild of college life, I did some things. Most I don’t regret but some I do. A few one-night stands. Random hookups with ex-friends' boyfriends. Showing my goodies on certain websites. Smoked a little bit of this, drank a little bit of that. So far most would say I’m living my life as a mid-twenty woman is supposed to. However, what I managed not to do is get pregnant.

I didn’t want kids.

I didn’t want to make my kids suffer through the things I went through.

People always say God has a sense of humor and according to the thumping sound coming from the ultrasound machine, He had the biggest sense of humor ever.

“Okay, Ms. Carter. You’re still within the allotted time frame to have the procedure done. I’m going to clean you up and the doctor will be in shortly. Do you have any questions?” The devil nurse asked handing me a copy of the ultrasound. The same ultrasound I specifically asked her not to give me.

I know there are certain groups of people that are against abortions. Hell, I was too until I became pregnant with my rapist child. But why on earth would the people at Planned Parenthood make the process of aborting so traumatizing on top of whatever issues caused the unwanted pregnancy in the first place?

“No,” I mumbled in shame.

Aunt Flo knocked on my door faithfully every twenty-seven days. Never missed one no matter how stressed life made me. A few weeks ago I missed my period and I panicked. Thought maybe my trauma had silenced Aunt Flo.

Oh, my trauma silenced her all right. Next came the sore boobs and morning sickness.

I refused to believe God would be so cruel.

At that time, Elgin was still calling and texting like nothing ever happened. I lied, telling him that I was back in New York when really I was in my house lying on my couch trying to process what my life had become. Trying to make sense of everything. Trying to find the realness, come to the conclusion, and realization that I had indeed been raped and was now pregnant.

In the back of my warped mind, the days leading up to me finally going to see him, these thoughts of him and I being a family and raising our child popped up. Thoughts of me being a mom. Thoughts of maybe I was exaggerating – my mom always said I was a drama queen and if you ask certain family members of mine they’d tell you that I’d probably deserved it.

Some days the mental rape felt worse than the actual physical act.

“Okay, the medicine should be kicking in shortly. Dr. Nickson… oh, sweetie.” Devil nurse looked frightened by my sudden outburst of sobs. Here she was standing between my wide opened legs looking scared.

The irony.

“You have to calm down. You’re going to make yourself sick.”

By now I was too far gone to be consoled. My heart was close to pounding out of my chest as echoes of the baby’s heartbeat replayed like a broken record in my head.

I was killing my child.

Trying to sit up, this dizziness and woozy feeling hit me. I guess the medicine had kicked in quicker than shortly. “Ma’am, please lay back down. Your uterus is wide open, and I don’t want you to get an infection.” She kept trying to help me but I fought her back as lazily as my limbs allowed. Them little pills they gave me were strong as hell.

Another nurse poked her head in. “I’ll get some help.”

“I… I…” I tried to speak but the pressure of despair wouldn’t let me.

“Yo, what the fuck are you doing to her?” Hearing Cassian, I cried harder. I was ass out, uterus open, and shame bright.

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