Bloodstained Regrets

Ayana

Blood was everywhere. Its crimson red flooded my bedsheets through to the mattress. She told me the procedure would be safe, but this looked far from that. I wasn’t ready, and neither was he! I rushed to yank off the covers to wash, but there was no use; the blood was too thick. Instead, I grabbed a black garbage bag and threw it inside to take to the dumpster.

There was no way I was going to call the ambulance! There was no way I would have what I had done on record. Being so close to finishing nursing school after waiting for what felt like years to get accepted, having a baby right now was out of the question. And sure, some would argue that we should have been using protection, and we did, sometimes. With Lukas, our passion burned like a raging wildfire. One look from him and my thighs automatically parted ways, welcoming in all of him.

Keeping my sanity wasn’t so simple whenever he was deep inside. No other man could make me moan like him. No other man ever kissed, tasted, or licked like Lukas. This passion led to a few pregnancy scares, but everything changed when I realized this was different.

My mind begins racing, and I feel like I will pass out. My eyes glaze over, and I think the world's weight crushes me with their unspoken condemnation. I have heard of girls dying like this, and maybe a slow, painful death is what I deserve. At least I could feel her or his agony when I laid back on that cold clinic bed. Now that abortions were illegal here, Lukas and I had no choice but to trust that this back alley nurse knew what she was doing.

“Don’t worry, I have performed many abortions,” her thick Haitian accent wavered through the empty halls as I stripped for her. Lukas couldn’t fathom that we were there doing what we did.

My body shook as he tried to get a grip, but I could sense his regret as he held my hand. “If my family found out I got you pregnant right after getting accepted into Princeton, they would kill me.”

Getting a higher education was something both of our families stressed throughout our youth. Growing up dirt poor in the backwoods of Mississippi, so poor that going to school for free education was out of the question for our grandparents. Picking cotton to survive was mandatory if they wanted to eat to see another day.

Now, all I can see is our baby’s lifeless fetus haunting me in every corner of this house. I can still see the tiny fingers, once curled tightly, now limp and lifeless. Its skin was a pale shade of blue, as if the life had been sucked out of it. The eyes, once filled with the promise of a future, now stared blankly back at me. Its body was so small, so fragile, that I could have held it in the palm of my hand.

But instead, I saw it lying on a rusted metal table, covered in blood and tissue. That image remains burned into my memory, haunting me at every turn. The thought of what could have been, what should have been, fills me with a terror I cannot escape.

As I lay there, tormented by the image of what once was my own flesh and blood, I suddenly heard the faintest of cries. A baby's cry. The sound was barely audible, but it was there, piercing through the walls of my mind. I turned to where I thought the sound was coming from, but there was nothing. Nothing but the dull hum of the rusty table and the stench of coppery blood.

But the cry continued, insistent and growing louder. It was like a tiny voice was calling me, begging me to come closer. I couldn't ignore it any longer. With my heart racing and my stomach turning in knotted guilt, I gave in to the haunting sound and rose from the table.

I walked down the creaking stairs, each step echoing with the weight of my shame. The cry grew louder as I descended, filling my ears with a painful ache. It was as though the baby was right in front of me, nestled in his mother's arms. "Mommy, mommy," the baby cried, his voice frail and broken.

Lukas

If Ayana knew what I had done, she would never forgive me! I had asked this woman to get an abortion the moment we learned she was pregnant. And it was all for my goal of becoming the first lawyer in my family.

I remember the day I got accepted into Princeton University to study law like yesterday. The feeling of triumph was indescribable; my hard work had paid off. This was my ticket out of the poverty that had haunted my family for generations.

But I also remember the fear that gripped me when Ayana told me she was pregnant. My dreams would be shattered if she had that baby. I couldn't let it happen. I couldn't let myself be trapped in the same cycle of poverty that I had fought so hard to escape.

So, I did what I had to do. I asked her to get an abortion. And she did, without any hesitation. It was a small price for my future success, or so I thought.

But I have been haunted by a ghostly presence ever since that day. It whispers in my ear at night, reminding me of what I did. Its cold, chilling breath on my neck sends shivers down my spine. The images of that abortion replay in my mind like a horror movie, tormenting me endlessly.

I thought success would bring me happiness, but all it got me was guilt and fear. Ayana may never forgive me, but what scares me the most is whether I can forgive myself. Especially now that Camilla was carrying my child and refused to get rid of it.

Camilla and Ayana had been best friends since childhood, and for the most part, she is the third wheel in our relationship. Getting a taste of her whenever I desired had become too easy. She understood me when I shared my dreams, unlike Ayana, who wanted nothing more than to remain in Milwaukee. But that also makes me weak for her love —her adoration for the simple things in life.

She’ll cry and probably scream; how could I ask her to get rid of our baby yet have one with her best friend? And I’ll try to explain how I also asked her to get an abortion, but she refused, and now we are moving to New Jersey right before classes begin.

Sometimes, in the dead of night, when the world is quiet and still, I envision Camilla losing the baby. It's like a dark, twisted fantasy, but it would be perfect for me. No more third wheel in my relationship with Ayana. No more reminders of my mistakes and the consequences of my actions.

I've even considered taking matters into my own hands to ensure my dream becomes a reality. Could I make Camilla disappear? Would anyone suspect me? The thoughts swirl in my mind like a storm, tempting me with their seductive whispers.

Unborn

They never named me, but you can call me Zara. I’ll never forget that loud humming coming towards me. I was afraid and wanted mommy, but I couldn’t feel her heartbeat. It stopped at that very moment; everything went black for me.

Why did you and Daddy not want me?

You two were meant to have me, and I wish you did because to feel your love, I could only imagine, would have been a treasure.

I float through your thoughts like a restless spirit, a reminder of what could have been. In the quiet moments of the night, I whisper to you, my voice like a cold wind that chills you to the bone. I am the specter of your deepest regrets, haunting you with the memory of what you have lost.

You wonder what I would have been like, what kind of person I would have become. Would I have been like you or something entirely different? Would I have been happy? Successful? Loved? The thoughts torment you, gnawing at your mind like a ravenous beast.

I am the shadow of your fears, the embodiment of your darkest secrets. You cannot escape me, for I am a part of you now, a mark left forever on your soul. You wonder if you could have done something different if you could have changed the outcome, but you know deep down that it was always meant to be this way.

I am the curse you carry with you always, a constant reminder of your pain and loss. I am the baby you never had, the love you never knew. And I will haunt you always until the end of your days.

NM