13 Seconds

I’m looking into the deep blue eyes of baby, a little boy; my son. His tiny arms are reaching out for me as the fragile fingers are trying to grasp for my hair. His face is round with a healthy, red colour. The nose that’s planted in the middle of it all is small and narrow, and the top of his head are covered with a thick layer of dark, almost curly hair. He is beautiful, as if he’s painted, as if he’s not real.
He’s smiling. So am I. And you. You’re standing right beside us with your eyes shut and a wide smile as your hands are wrapped around my waist. We’re happy, all of us.

“So, what did the test show?”
With the eyes at the wall in front of you, you hand me the small objective; it’s looking exactly the way it did when we got it.
“Nothing?” I ask. You turn your head towards me with a brief smile.
“No.” Your hands are lying on my thigh. I‘m not comfortable with it. It’s not normal, it’s too weird.
“Oh… Well, that’s… Good” I manage to squeeze out.
“Yes, it is.” You reach out for the test and throw it in the bin.
“But if it had, you know, if it had been positive, what do you think we would have done?”
As I ask, I feel my heart sink.
“Ha ha. If it turned out that I really were pregnant, I would have got rid of it. I mean, look at us! We couldn’t have handled a tiny baby ourselves. Besides, I don’t feel like having a baby right now. We’re both young, we should live, use the time we got!”

I can hear an awful sound from the baby’s throat. It sounds like thunder and waves mixed up. The face, who once were red and full of life is now turning blue. Its tiny lips are parting, and out comes the most horrible sound I’ve ever herd. The boy is screaming for its life. His eyes are suddenly bloodshot, and the small body that once reached for me are weak and pale. His fingers lose their grip of my hair, before they by a sudden is hanging down from the body. The terrible scream is gone, back is just silence.
He’s dead.
Beside me, you stand and you watch it all happen. You’re watching it, and you’re enjoying it. Your smile can’t be mistaken; you’ve been waiting for this to happen. A giggle escape your lips, and I can’t do anything but watch as you morph into a monster.
For I second too long you have my attention. And in that second, you grab the dead baby from my grip and throw it on the ground. The body breaks as if it was made out of porcelain. I fall to the floor, and it feels like I’ve fallen apart too. Back on the ground, I can see the small heart of my own son still beating. And I know it’s too late; he can’t be fixed.

I nod at your answer, even though I don‘t share your enthusiasm. Deep inside I’ve faced the fact; I know you’ll never be the mother of my unborn son.