Sunday, January 23, 2011
I Wasn't Ready
I Wasn't Ready Assignment 1 for Fireworks Writing Competition
The overpowering aroma of sweat and dirt settled in my cramped jail cell. "I deserve to be here," I told myself, "You deserve this." I hauled myself onto the uncomfortable mattress, thoughts swirling around in my cluttered mind. Today marked one year, the day when my daughter should have been born, the day when I would become a dad. But I wasn't ready, I couldn't handle the fact that such a fragile life would need to be supported by me. So I did the unthinkable, I killed her. I killed my pregnant girlfriend.
I remember the night we met like it was yesterday. I was on my routine trip to the bar in the darkness of the alley behind my house. As I approached the bar, I was shocked to find another figure accompanying mine in the dangerous alley. The woman's appearance was breathtaking, and it surprised me that such a pretty girl would be in such a treacherous predicament. My palms were sweating at the mere sight of her, and I pulled out a cigarette in an attempt to hide my nervousness.
Annoyed, she srtutted up to me while rolling her eyes, "You know smoking's bad for you, right?"
"Nice to meet you too, I'm Cole," I retorted, sticking my hand out for her to shake.
She smiled at my smug response and placed her delicate hand in mine, "Tiffany."
From that moment we hit it off and I knew she was the one for me.
A spark blossomed between the two of us that night, and things began to grow exceedingly passionate and intimite there in the gloomy alley. Eventually, I found her leading me back to her apartment which wasn't even a block away, where we proceeded to the bedroom. The romance continued, and we went all the way. Boy, was it something.
Six months later I was still doing nothing productive with my life, sitting on the couch watching reruns of The Brady Bunch at eight o'clock at night. Tiffany and I hadn't had any contact since that marvelous night half a year ago, scared to face eachother after our scandelous actions.
So when my phone rang that night, and I answered to the voice of Tiffany my jaw dropped in shock and horror. It was surreal to hear her soft, relaxing tone again although she appeared to sound much more distressed.
"Cole, I need to tell you something. Important," she stated. "Meet me at the alley. And wear something nice, we'll head out afterwards. All right?"
"Will do," I responded monotonously, hanging up the phone in the receiver. I already knew what the news she was going to share with me, it was obvious she was pregnant. I for one knew I hadn't used protection that night, and I doubted she was on the pill.
I previously had this night worked out in my mind because I knew it was just a matter of time before it occured. Stealthily, I sprinted into the kitchen where I had my pick of knives. I grabbed a good sized blade and threw it on the bed with my clothes. I was going to make things right, after all, I wasn't ready.
I took a deep breath as I apporached the alley, so many memories pieced their way back into my head. I sighed at the good times, knowing they would haunt me for the rest of my life. As I turned the corner, I stopped in awe. Even though I had been expecting her to be pregnant, I hadn't picture her to be this pregnant. She was patting her stomach when I arrived, confirming my thoughts of her pregnancy. I double checked the knife remained in my back pocket, and I trudged up to her gleaming face.
"Cole," she practically burst out, "I'm pregnant! And it's a girl, and I'm calling her Helen after my grandma, no matter what you say. She's due the 3rd of June."
I put on my fake surprised face and thumbed the knife. "That's great, Tiff!"
"What's wrong?" she interrogated, "I thought you'd be more excited." She gasped as I revealed the knife that I had been playing with, placing a firm grasp on the handle.
"Please Cole! Not the baby, anything but the-"
I winced as her body collapsed to the stone and gravel floor. I had stabbed the left side of her stomach, hoping to eliminate any trace of both her and the baby. Out of nowhere, the tragedy of what I had just done sunk in, and I realized I had to leave. Now. So I fled the scence back to my apartment the whole time wiping countless tears from my eyes.
I hadn't done a very good job of hiding the evidence though. Within the next three months officers and investigators were able to have me through cort and in jail for the deadly dead I had done due to finger prints that remained on the knife. Now here I am, standing in my jail cell with no ounce of hope in the world, singing happy birthday in my mind over and over to my deceased daughter, who should have been turning one.
All of our heads turned in synchronization as the large metal door at the end of the hallway opened revealing a pale, slender woman and in her arms... a baby. Visitors were rare due to our unit only allowing one visitor per year, so when someone did visit the matter was usually urgent.
The woman made her way down to the cell across from mine, where a quiet man, Frank Mirar, was being held for breaking and entering. Frank let out a gasp at the sight of the newborn child in his wife's weak arms.
"I just delivered her this monring," she whispered, cooing the child with a warm snuggle.
"Tess, what's her name?" Frank squeaked, mezmerised by the life he had created.
"Lainie," she stated proudly.
"I love you Lainie," Frank whispered to his daughter.
The sight of a baby immediately brought me to tears, especially since she was born on my daughter's expected due date. I turned to the corner of my stone cell and weaped in the corner in memory of what could have been my daughter. But I killed her along with the woman I loved.
I would give anything to see my daughter alive and well, or even just tell her in person that I love her and wish her a happy birthday. Because I love my unborn daughter more than anything. But now I'm forced to sit here, and wish her a happy birthday. In the silence, surrounded by a baby that reminds me so much of her. Alone and unwanted.