Abby Girl: You know what makes me angry?

Jo-Jo: When people don’t use turn signals? The noise I make when I chew? What about —

Abby: Sluts. Sluts make me mad.

Jo-Jo: I like sluts.

Abby: Shut up. You know who I’m talking about.

Jo-Jo: Yeah, I heard.

Abby: She just disappeared from school for a week and ‘took care of it.’

Jo-Jo: Don’t be so quick to judge. Maybe she’ll be famous one day and that could have held her back.

Abby: It’s wrong.

Jo-Jo: It’s not wrong for everyone, Abby.

The fleeting memories of our text about the girl in high school haunted me the night before, to the point where I knew something was wrong when I woke up this morning. For nine weeks, Joey and I had lived blissfully happy, basking in a new dream-like stance that neither of us thought would ever come to fruition. Even with Zoey’s kidnapping, we had found strength and solace in the face of danger. Joey was everything I ever wanted—and I’d sent him away.

It was all over.

I still didn’t know how to tell Joey what really happened that night with Evan. I was terrified that he’d see me as some kind of monster. Especially with the evidence Dr. Harrison thought he had against me. I wasn’t to blame for Evan’s death, or so I’d told myself for the last year. The gun would have gone off either way—even I knew Evan was that desperate. The fact didn’t change I could have done more—made him an appointment at the VA or forced him to see a counselor. Instead I just hid myself behind Zoey and used her as a crutch to ignore what was going on in front of my very eyes.

And it had cost Evan his life.

I didn’t regret pulling that trigger. I had lived a nightmare for a year, and I didn’t want Zoey to grow up with that.

I only regretted breaking Joey’s heart over it.

When Evan had walked into my life and swept me off my feet, I turned all my hurt from Joey into a strange kind of love for my new husband. A fake, twisted, abusive love, I knew it now, but it was too late to repair that mistake. Dr. Harrison had been right—Joey carried this torch of love, and I had tried to return it, but I was too fucked up to really love anyone else. Not after Evan.

I had to get Zoey up, get both of us ready, and get to class. Life moved on without Joey Harrison, just as it had without Evan Years. It wasn’t my first overnight stay at Heartbreak Hotel, and it certainly wouldn’t be my last.

If only I didn’t feel so nauseous today, as if this bout of morning sickness was going to destroy me from the inside-out. I had to see a doctor—it was never this bad with Zoey. Hugging the porcelain as Zoey cried from her crib down the hall, I resolved to make an appointment later in the day and stumbled about getting dressed.

Zoey cooed at me, her eyes still wet, as I picked her up from her crib and got her ready for the day.

“You’ll be a sister, soon,” I whispered to her as she blinked at me, not understanding. I shocked myself saying it out loud. Out loud made it real, and when Joey wasn’t even here. I felt my heart break all over again just as it had that day in the hospital last week.

Just as I was starting down that path of woe-is-me-I-sent-him-away, that was when it hit—the first grip of agony that crawled up my side. Like a strange fake contraction, but only it wrapped around my back like a real one. Nearly dropping Zoey, I managed to make it to the kitchen and plop her, a little too roughly, into her high chair.

I chopped up a banana as Zoey screamed shrilly and pressed a hand to my forehead. A massive migraine descended quickly, and in a matter of minutes the pain around my middle struck again.

Throwing the banana at my daughter, I rushed for the bathroom, dry heaving until I couldn’t even breathe. This wasn’t just bad, there was something wrong. I looked at the clock above the toilet, and realized I had an hour until class. Too late to cancel; I had a final exam to administer. There was no one else who would retrieve it from my computer; even the testing center wasn’t open yet.

I’d have to get Zoey to daycare, rush to school, give the test, and then—I swallowed hard—take myself to the ER. I just prayed Dr. Harrison wasn’t there again to throw more shit in my face. I’d text Mom to pick up Zoey while hopefully they told me it was just morning sickness.

I somehow managed to pull on a pants suit, slap on some makeup, and munch on the rest of the mashed banana that Zoey left behind. It seemed to help my stomach, and I began to feel better. After class, I’d make an appointment. There would be no need for a ten hour wait in the ER, after all. The thought of even running into Dr. Harrison was too much, anyway.

An hour later, my class was packed with prompt students anxiously awaiting my final exam. Joey slid in two minutes late, as I finished passing out the proctoring sheets and giving my instructions. My stomach lurched; but whether it was from seeing the way he ignored me as he slid in his seat next to Sam or from this evil morning sickness, I didn’t know. I tried not to think about it as I avoided his gaze and slapped the paper and sheet in front of him.

Forty minutes into the exam, I sat behind my small computer stand, catching up on some grading as the students took their test in silence. Most of them had finished early and left, while a few stragglers stayed behind to finish up the last essay component, I imagined. One of them was Joey, his head bowed over his paper as he scribbled furiously, glancing at the clock and realizing he was running out of time.

I stood to make my final announcement that the remaining students only had ten minutes left, and then it happened.

The worst gush of my entire life.

It was so bad, I felt the blood running down my leg, but that wasn’t even the worst of my worries; the pain with it was so bad, the most agonizing thing I had ever felt, even worse than labor. I bent over the computer desk and gripped it for support. I saw a blur as my five remaining students were on their feet, exams immediately forgotten.

“Joey!” I tried to scream for him to call 9-1-1, but my breath was gone before I could expel it. I toppled over sideways and fell to the floor.

Everything went black.

At least I couldn’t feel it anymore.

Waking up in the hospital almost a day later was no way to finish a term.

When my eyes opened, I stared up at the tiled ceiling, trying to ground myself. The panic was there, in my throat, as keen and sharp as the IV in my arm. I blinked, trying to focus, before I looked around.

Joey.

He sat next to me in a straight-backed chair looking much too uncomfortable for anyone.

I turned away and studied the soft drip of the IV as it ran from the clear plastic bag to the tube and finally into my arm. A tear rolled out of my eye as I asked the wall, “I lost it, didn’t I?”

“It?” Joey’s voice was angry, firm, and sad, a dangerous concoction that I was all too familiar with. “You can’t say it, can you? Our child.”

A sob threatened to drown me, but I swallowed it away. “I—I can’t.”

“Abby! Look at me, dammit!”

I turned my head toward him slowly. The stubble on his chin was two days gone, and even in my state I could tell he needed a shower. I noticed then his hoodie was stained, and he was still wearing the same pants he had all week to school. I had just assumed he’d gone back to his parents’ house, but apparently, he hadn’t. Where had he gone? Had he been living in his truck?

More importantly, how long had I been here? I sniffed, holding back the tears. I wouldn’t let them come. I was stronger than that.

“Shut up,” I said firmly. “It’s over, it’s done with. There’s nothing we can do about it now.”

“Why do you do this?”

“Do what?”

“Act like you’re strong and invincible all the time.”

I blinked at him, feeling the anger flood away as soon as it had come. “I have to be.”

He ran a hand over his chin and sat back. “There’s something else you should know, Abby.”

My lip trembled. I won’t cry, no matter how bad it is. “What?”

“Ah, you’re awake.”

We both looked up to see a tall, blond doctor walk into the room. His silver name tag just displayed the name Havens, with a tiny O.B. under it. Joey stood and shook his hand. “Have you told her?” the doctor whispered.

Joey just shook his head.

The O.B. pulled up a rolling stool and slid his finger across the screen of the iPad in his hand. “Ms. Years, I have some good news and bad news.”

“Cut the bullshit,” I said, glaring at Joey then back at the doctor, “just tell me what happened. Ectopic pregnancy? I figured with the pain, it must be bad.”

“I’m sorry, but no. It’s much worse.”

I struggled to sit up, but the pain around my waist held me down. “What do you mean worse? What’s worse?” I felt like screaming.

He proceeded to tell me, in not so many words, about the surgery, finishing with the words, “I’m afraid you’ll never be able to have any more children, but the good news is, we were able to save your life.”

The dam broke then, heavy sobs that racked my chest. Joey’s arm slid around my shoulders and I cried into his chest. The doctor must have patted my leg and left, because when I opened my eyes he was nowhere to be seen. Not that my teary vision let me see much, anyway.

Joey held me tight until I had no more tears to shed. He pulled me away softly and looked in my eyes. “What happened that day, Abby? With Evan?”

The conversation with Dr. Harrison and the images on his screen flooded back to me. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

Holding my secret was too much. I’d lost nearly everything. “I killed him,” I whispered.

“No,” he blinked. “I don’t believe that.”

“Believe it!” I nearly shouted in his face.

“Why, Abby?”

“You know why. Every minute with him was torture. Hiding Zoey from him? Wondering if he’d come home drunk and beat me again? I’m not sorry, Joey. I’m not sorry I helped him pull that trigger!”

“Stop!” Joey grabbed my upper arms now. “Evan would have done it anyway, you know that!”

“But I didn’t even stop him! I just stood there and waited. Waited for it to be over!” I shoved him, hard, pushing him away from the hospital bed. “Your father knew all of it, mostly he guessed, but he could destroy everything!”

He stumbled against the chair and nearly fell into it. “Abby, what are you saying?”

“This is all your fault!” I screamed at him, irrationality seizing my brain in a death grip. I was exhausted, and I felt it pulling at my limbs. Yet, I couldn’t reason with it, I couldn’t stop myself, not about Evan, or losing the baby. I was so angry at everything and no one else was in the room to take it out on. I didn’t care I was in a hospital, I didn’t care who heard me. Joey did this to me, it was all his doing.

“My fault?” Joey blinked at me, pointing to himself. “Evan…”

“Not Evan. The baby. If you had just…”

“I didn’t hear you objecting, Abby!” he interrupted. “Not once did you remind me to—”

“To what? Use a condom? Jesus Christ, Joey. You’re an adult!”

His fists balled at his side. “So are you, goddamn it! It takes two to make a baby, or did you skip that part of health in high school? Why didn’t you have birth control, anyway? Are you stupid?”

My chest heaved, and my vision ran red. “Get the fuck out!” I yelled at him. “I meant what I said last week. I never want to see you again. You cost me everything!”

Fuming, he stormed to the door and threw it open, but stopped at the door frame. “I don’t care about Evan, or what you think you did, that’s all in the past. I loved you, Abby, I’ve loved you since Freshman year. I love Zoey, too, and I wanted to spend my life with you both.”

“Too little, too late,” I yelled after him. “Leave me alone, or I’ll call security.”

He left without another word.

I picked up the empty bedpan on the table next to me and chucked it at the closed door. It bounced with a loud clang and landed on the floor.

“Argh!” I screamed to the empty hospital room. What did I have left, now? No hope for the future, no Joey.

My thoughts turned to Zoey. I collapsed into the bed. I had to be strong, I had to make it, for my daughter’s sake.

There was no one else now.