Like Knives

Whistling under his breath and smiling lightly, Andrew Brinson enters the familiar apartment building with hurried steps. A mix of mysterious smells waft to his nose, though he takes no notice of it, the urgency in his steps increasing slightly. The camera that hangs around his neck bumps against Andrew’s chest as he climbs the stairs two at a time, laughing when he finally makes it to the top. The elevator chimes behind him as he approaches a white door with chipping paint.

Andrew’s knuckles rap against the wooden surface, and he hangs back a little, straightening out his shirt.

Andrew knows that Olivia would never call him home in the middle of the day if she didn't have something important to tell him. The smile dancing across Andrew’s lips gets wider. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up – not yet – but he believes that they’ll finally have some good news. After all, Olivia did have a doctor’s appointment today.

The door opens, and there’s Olivia with her porcelain skin and piercing, green irises. Despite the heat outside, she’s wearing a bulgy turtleneck sweater and loose jeans. Wordlessly, she blinks suddenly, as though coming out of a trance, and walks back inside, leaving the door wide open.

“Olivia?” Andrew asks, the strangeness of the situation lost on him. He takes the camera from around his neck, and places it on the table in the living room. “Babe? Where are you?”

Olivia’s usual, cheery voice doesn’t greet him with an answer. Instead, silence of the loudest kind buzzes in his ears uncomfortably, and he shoves his hands in his pocket – a bad habit.

With small, tentative steps, Andrew walks into their bedroom to find Olivia rushing about. A half-full suitcase sits on the queen-sized bed, and clothes are littered all around, and inside, it. Andrew’s breath hitches in his throat, though he brushes it away and smiles.

“Are we going somewhere?” he teases, walking over to where Olivia stands by the open closet door.

Olivia turns to face him, avoiding his gaze. “I’m pregnant.”

The simple words cause a huge bubble of happiness to develop in Andrew’s chest. I was right! he thinks. “Pregnant? Olivia, that’s great! I can’t believe— Oh God, I need to call Mom and Dad!”

Olivia doesn’t acknowledge Andrew’s outburst, and continues to throw clothes into the suitcase. Once she’s done and everything is zipped up, she grunts slightly as she picks it up off the bed. A sheen of sweat covers her forehead, yet she pulls away when Andrew tries to help her carry the burden.

“Olivia? What’s wrong?” Andrew finally asks, not understanding why she’s not as excited as him. Isn’t this what we’ve wanted all along? he asks himself. It’s true that he’s always been the more enthusiastic of the two when it came to the topic, but he never thought Olivia would react like this.

Olivia picks up the suitcase and shakes her head, eyes glazed over with tears. Sniffling quietly, she walks out into the living room, Andrew at her heels, and grabs her jacket. Phone held tightly in one hand, and the other wiping at her cheeks, she heads for the door.

A heavy feeling of remorse weighs down on Andrew’s heart as he watches his lover walk away from him. Something in the back of his mind is telling him the worst: that she’s gotten rid of the baby – their child; the one thing that could be entirely their own, their blood and soul united forever. Though he tries to push these thoughts away, Andrew cannot help the horrible images that flash at the back of his eyelids.

Stilling in the doorway for a moment, Olivia turns around. Her face has gone cold, along with her beautiful eyes in which Andrew first fell in love with. There’s something icy about them, like the frost that covers blades of grass after a particularly cold autumn night.

The next three words that she mutters cuts through the silence; they pierce through Andrew’s heart, and they rip the frail pages of the life they could’ve had together.

“It’s not yours.”