17 Nights

Being the daughter of one of the richest people in the world there was no doubt about it that Ava grew up spoiled or what magazines would like to call it 'privileged'. She was set to inherit somewhere between over a billion dollars. Ava didn't know anymore, she stopped counting once it had hit the double digit billion dollar bar.

Her father was Ronald Jenkins, business man extraordinaire. He came from a long line of rich French families that found more money from the right investments and breaking down companies and selling them off. Her mother, Josephine Hall, was the daughter of a Swedish politician, Runa Klasson, and Swedish businessman, Marten Hall.

Despite coming from a distinct and prominent family from both America and Europe, Ava showed no interest taking after her father, much to his dismay and her Grandfather Marten's, nor did she show any interest in politics.

Her interests laid in acting, fashion and shopping. She could spend thousands in one shopping trip if it was up to her. Ava grew up without limits mainly because her parents were always too busy for her. As a child she was a spoiled brat that would throw a tantrum whenever she didn't get what she wanted.

But that was behind closed doors. The media saw her as America's Sweetheart. The little blonde girl with the golden smile. She won the hearts of many people. That's what people saw. They didn't see a brat that grew up to be a promiscuous, weed smoking teen. Even her parents didn't see it.

Ava changed her ways at the age of eighteen when a good friend of hers died at a party overdosing on the very drugs Ava provided. She never took drugs, just weed, but since she knew more drug dealers she was always the one providing the drugs.

She didn't know that her friend had been addicted to all kinds of drugs and just thought that he wanted to loosen up. Ava didn't think it would end his life. Overcome with guilt she vowed to straighten herself out and stopped drinking and doing weed all together.

Sitting in one of Dr. Perkins' uncomfortable chairs in the waiting room, Ava could feel her hear beating loudly. It felt as if her chest was about to burst with the guilt she was feeling. She didn't want to get an abortion, but she couldn't raise a child to end up like her.

She was a mess and she'd be damned if her baby grew up to be the destructive person she was as a teen. It would be even worse because her baby would grow up with a father that was in love with someone else and could easily leave.

Tears started to stream down her blue eyes. Ever since she found out she was pregnant, she had grown attached to her baby. She really tried not to grow attached and tried to hate the baby, but she couldn't. It was too hard.

"Ava?" Dr. Perkins called in the hallway.

Ava's head snapped up. She gathered her things, took a deep breath and followed Dr. Perkins to one of the rooms.

"So, you're getting an abortion?" Dr. Perkins asked unsurely. "Ava are you sure?" she asked worriedly. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

Taking a deep breath and then a long sigh, she nodded her head. "Yes, I'm sure."

*

Marc sat in his apartment looking idly at his cell phone. He read the text message over and over again as if it was going to tell him where Ava's doctor was, but it only told her when and what time she had a meeting with the doctor to get an abortion.

He looked at the clock, it was already two o'clock. He was too late.

In frustration, he threw his cell phone against the wall. It smashed to pieces. Marc couldn't believe how stupid he was. Even though he wasn't prepared to be a father, he still cared about the baby and Ava. It was still a part of him and it felt like a part of him was being ripped away.

He was angry. Angry at Ava for being rash and angry at himself for not listening to her and not being there for her. How could she so easily resort to abortion? Didn't he get a say in any of this?

He felt betrayed by Ava. She had now right to make the decision on her own. It was his child too, he should have a say in the matter. If it were up to him, he would have kept the baby. He would have raised the baby himself if Ava didn't want it.

Marc began to throw more things against the wall and into the floor in anger. First a family picture taken last year, then a glass bowl that smashed into tiny pieces once it hit the ground and then a plate decoration his mother gave him two years ago.

Anything and everything he could get his hands on in the living room he threw to the ground or anywhere until he was tried.

After his fit, Marc sank to the ground, his hands cupping his face. He began to cry.

*

Debating on whether to enter the apartment or not, Ava fished out the spare key that Marc had given her to his apartment. Marc hadn't been answering his home phone and his cell phone sent her straight to voice mail. She grew worried.

Just as she was about to insert the key in a voice spoke.

"Are you alright dear?" asked an old voice.

Ava turned to her right and furrowed her eyebrows. Why would the old woman ask her that? She didn't look like she was crying, nor did she look injured in any way.

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?"

The old woman looked at Ava and spoke hesitantly. "It's just… it's just, earlier I heard a lot of things being thrown in Marc's apartment. I was worried that he got into a fight or something."

Ava's heart started to be beat loudly again. Despite being angry with Marc, she still cared about him and was worried. "I'm fine," she told the woman and hastily jammed the key into the door.

Entering the apartment cautiously, Ava could barely see a thing. The blinds were shut and the lights were off. She grew even more worried. Feeling for the hallway lights, Ava heard a cracking noise beneath her feet.

'What the hell,' she thought to herself, and looked down to her feet. Her eyes widened when she saw shards of glass. 'Marc!' she panicked and ran to the light switch.

Ava almost fell in shock when she saw the state of Marc's usually pristine apartment. She gulped, and wandered into the living room. The Tv was smashed, bowls and plates lay on the floor in tiny pieces. Everything was a disaster.

"Oh my God," she gasped in shock.

"Yeah," she heard a voice whisper.

Ava screamed and jumped. She placed a hand on her chest when she saw Marc sitting on his couch quietly.

"Marc, what happened?" she asked, but got no response. His head was looking down onto the floor, his left hand squeezing his right hand. Her eyes widened when she saw blood coming out of his right palm. "Marc, you're bleeding!" she exclaimed and ran to the kitchen to get a towel.

Kneeling down in front of him, she tried to clean up his hand but Marc refused and tore his hand away from hers.

"Don't," he started. "I don't need you," he sneered, still angry at her.

Ava glared at him, but did nothing to help him. She sat down on the couch beside him quietly and tried to think of something to say to him. She had a feeling that the disaster in his apartment had something to do with her decision to abort the baby.

"I'm sorry," she apologized miserably and began to sob. "I'm so sorry."