Page 6 of Save You

“After Doctor Sawyer is finished with you, I shall send up my team to prep you for this evening’s rehearsal dinner.”

I put on one of my practiced fake grins, one that is now part of a repertoire of insincere expressions which I have schooled myself to use. However, on the inside, I can’t help thinking about the words he’s just chosen to use - Prep me? Like I’m a piece of meat that needs to be sliced and basted before being served up to his pompous guests. My hands have already curled into tiny fists, but I smile sweetly and nod, anything to get him away from me; to stop him from making my skin crawl with anger.

“Any other questions, my darling?” he asks politely, as if already fixing his mask of being a perfect gentleman for the benefit of his guests. I simply shake my head before turning to look out the window where the gardeners are still moving around in the late afternoon sun.

Once I hear the sound of the doors clicking closed behind Oliver’s exit, I’m not surprised to see Doctor Sawyer moving hurriedly toward me, looking all of a fluster and visibly anxious over what I’m about to do next. I more than know why, but I can’t muster the energy to care about it anymore. As far as I’m concerned, my life has come to an end anyway. I may as well let Oliver do his worst to me when he finds out what I’ve already given away to somebody else.

“I wonder, Doctor Sawyer, do you have anything I might take tomorrow? Something to numb the pain for when he finds out I actually gave my virginity away to another man.” I turn to the rather plump man with an attitude he doesn’t deserve. “I’m sure it won’t be pretty when he finds out.”

“Beth,” he says, sighing heavily over my obvious decision to simply give up, “what are you going to do?”

The poor man, who has done nothing but watch out for me when he so easily could have fed me to the wolf, now looks like he’s begging for me to have some kind of plan to whip out from up my sleeve. Alas, I am out of them, particularly for this situation.

“I might strike lucky.” I shrug with lackluster, standing to look more easily inside of the garden where a sort of peace lingers within the flowers which are being forced to grow in a place that doesn’t look natural for them. “My monthly cycle is so up and down at the moment, I might well get it tomorrow, then he’d be none the wiser!” I turn to look at him with such a fake smile, I wonder if I even managed to curl my lips.

“I-is that normal for you, Beth?” he asks, with each word laced with deep concern. I have to admit, it has been playing on my mind as of late, but I’ve had other, more pressing things on my worry list too. “May I?” he gestures toward my belly.

I ponder on his question for a moment, not entirely wanting to know the answer for fear that my recent suspicions might well be confirmed. Eventually, however, I give in and go and lie down on the bed. It’s funny how this man has had me in this position so many times before, and I don’t even know his first name. And yet, this time, during this least intrusive examination of my body, I am feeling more terrified than ever.

He wastes no time in slipping his cold hands up and under my shirt, apologizing when I emit a small gasp over the shock of his icy fingers. However, he soon pushes my whole shirt up when he obviously feels something there and has to take a closer look. The small bump is noticeable, even if I have been trying to ignore it. For a few weeks now, I’ve been pretending that it’s merely down to eating one too many packets of Cheetos or Dairy Milk bars.

When his eyes dart up to mine, he tells me all I need to know without letting a single word escape from his lips. It’s enough to make me look away and swallow back the large lump sitting inside of my throat. He continues to prod around my abdomen before grabbing a tape measure out of his bag, all the while explaining that he needs to measure how high my uterus is. As his words filter through my ears, my body shudders under the realization that I now have a new monumental fuck up to add to my never-ending list of harsh realities.

“I would say you’re already three months, Beth,” he almost apologizes to me, “maybe even four.” I gasp out a cry as he pulls my shirt back into place. “Have you done a test?”

I shake my head, prompting him to grab a sample pot for me to go and fill up in the bathroom, informing me it might be best to double-check.

As I pee awkwardly into the most impractical pot ever made for such a task, I use my other hand to hold onto the bump that is my belly. It is more than likely housing something that is part me and part Xander; a living thing that we made together before I was forced away from him. If so, Oliver is most likely going to kill me and our unborn child, and probably in the most vengeful and painful way possible. My head goes dizzy over the thought and I have to breathe out a few times before I can stomach going back into the bedroom.

Doctor Sawyer takes the pot from my outstretched hand and begins to fumble about with my sample and a dipstick kind of thing before sighing rather audibly. I notice his face has now turned an unhealthy shade of pale.

“Beth, if I’m right, there is no way you can have an abortion without your fiancé finding out.” I cringe over the word, abortion, never once thinking I would have to worry about such a thing. “But when Oliver finds out…” He stops at the same time as placing a chubby hand over his mouth, which is now hanging wide open over such a thought.

“I-I know,” I mutter quietly, “I’m dead.”

Long moments pass before he responds. His silence only confirms my every suspicion over how my betrothed will react.

“Positive,” he murmurs as he stares down at the result for much longer than is warranted. I simply nod, having already come to terms with the outcome long before he gave me that confirmation. Streams of silent tears fall over my cheeks as I look to the floor with nothing but a scrambled mess of thoughts.

“Right!” Doctor Sawyer announces rather suddenly, and forcefully, for his usual personality. “Right! Tell me what to do, Beth. I can tell him all is as it should be, but you need to get away…and fast!”

“I can’t! If I go, they will go after my brother!” I argue angrily. For fuck’s sake, why can’t anyone understand that simply disappearing is not an option, not when an eleven-year-old boy’s fate is at stake?

“And if you stay, they will come after you and your unborn child!” he argues with just as much frustration in his voice. He points toward my stomach with a look that only comes from being a father. “Now tell me who to go to, to make this happen, now!”

“B-Bodhi,” I answer, giving in with sadness because I no longer know if what I’m doing is the right thing anymore. “Bodhi Mason. He lives on the North Beach; you know, where all the supposed ‘stoners’ are. You’ll know who he is when you get there.”

“I know the place,” he says with a touch of confusion behind his eyes but doesn’t question me over it. “Stay put and say nothing!”

“Beth?” A thudding on the door, together with Oliver’s stern voice makes us both jump with shock. “This is taking much longer than I thought it would. Is something wrong?”

“Ok?” the doctor whispers to me. When I nod, he paces over to the door with a confidence he’s never shown before. He appears to brace himself before opening the door to come face to face with Oliver. “Mr Lawrence, so sorry for the inconvenience,” he beams, still with a bravery that I didn’t know he had, “Miss Taylor has a mild urine infection, so I’ve given her some antibiotics. Otherwise, all is as it should be.”

“Let me take care of them, Beth,” Oliver orders as he marches over to me with his hand already held out, waiting for the non-existent tablets. With a little panic, I look over to Doctor Sawyer, who immediately rustles inside of his bag for a small bottle of pills. “I was, of course, going to leave them in your care once we had got downstairs.”

“Thank you,” Oliver smiles half-heartedly, then leans toward him to talk a fraction more quietly, though it’s more than loud enough for me to hear. “This won’t interfere with our wedding night, now will it, Doctor Sawyer?”

The doctor laughs nervously, knowing how terrifying this must be for me to hear, but also knowing that, hopefully, I won’t be here tomorrow night. Oliver can have his own wedding night with his own right hand.

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