You Mustn't Give Your Heart To A Wild Thing

A/N: I suggest you read 'I Don't Want It, I Just Need It' before perusing this. You won't be able to make head nor tail of it otherwise. x

“I just need ye to sign a few forms before we can get on with the procedure”

My stomach retched at the word procedure and I struggled to keep my breakfast down; they’d advised me to eat something before the appointment, they obviously hadn’t experienced morning sickness. The slice of toast I’d forced down had barely made it to the back of my throat. I pressed my hand hard against my stomach and took a long, deep breath, trying desperately to focus my eyes on something other than my trembling hands, to think of anyone other than Oliver Scott Sykes.

“Are ye sure ye want to do this? There are other options Verity, options we could talk about and…”

“Aren’t ye supposed to be impartial Doc?” I asked with a hollow chuckle, “Aren’t ye supposed to be ‘ere to…”

“I’m just advising you of ye options Miss Palmer”

“And I’m tellin’ ye my decision” I countered, reaching forward to pick up the small plastic cup of water in front of me. “Please don’ think I’m naïve enough t’ think this won’t change my life”

“I think nothing of the sort Verity” The doctor reasoned, pushing her half moon glasses up the bridge of her nose as we peered at each other over the rim of my cup “I just want to make sure ye makin’ the right choice, f’ you”

“It is. An’ I am” I nodded slowly, convincing neither of us as I hunched lower over the table and deeper into the uncomfortable plastic chair, grabbing the blue biro to my right. “What d’ye need me to sign?”

I ignored Doctor Hilliers loud, exasperated sigh and fixed my eyes on the pieces of paper in front of me, only able to see where I had to sign; through my rapidly tearing eyes, by the obscenely large red crosses dotted about the form.

“I can call ye boyfriend in if ye don’t want to be alone when ye…”

“’e’s not my boyfriend”

“Ye brother? Ye look a little ali...”

I shook my head and scribbled my name frantically across the page, wincing, as the nib scratched loudly at the paper; something which had always made my skin crawl a little anyway, and I tried to shake the image of my brother when I told him, if I decided to tell him.

“This is somethin’ I need t’do on my own” I choked, gulping down the huge lump that had risen rapidly in my throat, “’s somethin’ ‘ve chosen to do on my own”

Verity Ann Palmer, Two Thousand and Five.

“An’ ye didn’ think t’ tell me?” I raged, my fists clenched so tight at my sides that I could feel my knuckles pulsating as they turned bright white. “Ye didn’ think I ‘ad a right t’ know?!”

“Of course ye ‘ad a right to know Oliver, I jus’…”

“After all this time, ye let me do it all again. Ye let me fall head over fuckin’ heels before ye…”

“I didn’ know how to tell ye, ‘s not that I didn’t want to. Fuck, ‘s killed me that ye didn’ know mate, that ye ‘avent…”

“Ye’ve known f’ four fuckin’ years. Ye’ve let me go four fuckin’ years thinkin’ that I messed up everythin’, thinkin’ that I’d driven…”

“Ye were ‘ardly innocent in all of it Oliver. Ye cheated wi’…”

“An’ you were a fuckin’ saint aye? Ye couldn’t ‘av stopped it, ye couldn’t ‘av stopped…”

“Ye can’t drag me into this Ol”

“Ye dragged y’self in mate”

The silence that overcame us was truly excruciating, but it was nothing compared to the pain I felt as I pulled myself wearily from the uncomfortable metal chair I’d been slumped across and pushed my way through the crowd that had gathered around me, around us.

“If ye know wha’s good f’ye you’ll go ‘ome….”

Oliver Scott Sykes , Two Thousand and Nine.