John's Revenge
Finding Annie
*Annie’s POV*
I watched Estelle run around the garden, occasionally plucking flowers out of the grass and running over to give them to me or Mom.
“Sweetheart,” Mom sighed. “Talk to Michael. I’m sure he’d understand.”
“No. It was like this when we were dating too.”
“Then you can hardly claim you didn’t know.”
“Yes, but when we were dating I went with him sometimes.”
“You could go with him now.”
“No I couldn’t.”
“Why not? Has he told you he doesn’t want you coming?”
“No. But Estelle’s too young to go.”
“Well, she could stay with your father and I.”
I remained silent.
“Fine. It’s your life. Just try and think about what’s best for Stella.” She sighed, getting up and walking into the kitchen. I twisted my engagement ring around my finger, absently. I took it off to look at it, along with my wedding ring.
I twirled it around, making it catch the light. Stella came running over. She held out her hand. I put the ring in it. She scampered back into the garden.
I still held my wedding ring, examining it, feeling the smooth metal. I placed it on the arm of my chair, took off my necklace and threaded my ring onto the necklace.
“Stella?” I called. She looked up, covered in dirt. “Can I have my ring please?”
She ran over.
“Where’s my ring?”
“Ring tree!” she shrieked.
“What?”
“I bury! Ring tree!”
I ran down the garden and eventually, I found the ring. I walked inside to clean it up. I cleaned it and put it on my necklace with my wedding ring.
I heard a knock on the door. My mother walked out to answer it as I walked back to the garden. I sat down and watched Estelle.
I could hear voices in the hall, but ignored them. I watched Stella lying on the grass, pointing up at the sky. She sat up grinning.
“Daddy!” she shrieked.
I spun round at the sound of footsteps. I saw Mike and Billie Joe.
“Estelle, go inside.”
Too late. Estelle ran into towards Mike and hugged him. I looked accusingly at Billie.
“What?”
“Was this your idea?”
“No!”
“Did Adrienne tell you where I was?”
Mike glowered at Billie. “Adrienne knew?”
“Adrienne had no idea, neither did Liv! They’ve been worrying about you for ages!” Billie pointed a finger at me. My mother walked outside.
“Billie, why don’t you take Stella and we’ll have a coffee inside?”
Mike reluctantly passed Stella to Billie and he walked inside with my mother. They closed the patio door and left me alone with Mike. I sat back down, staring down the garden.
“Why did you leave?” Mike said quietly.
“What? You actually noticed?”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“You are never home Mike! You’re always at the studio or on tour. You never spend any time with me or Estelle! She needs her father!”
“That is not true! I spend every spare minute I have with you and Estelle! You know why I’m away so much, you knew that when we got together, you knew that when you said you’d marry me! Do you have any idea how much grief I’ve got from Billie, Tré, Rob and every fucker else about leaving early, arriving late and cutting time off the tour to spend time with you?”
“Well, that’s mighty big of you Mike, thank you for putting up with a couple of slaps on the wrist. I’ve been alone for months on end. You never call…”
“I call every single day, more than once a day, but you never fucking answer the phone!”
“Well maybe if you’d spent more time at home you’d know about Ryan!”
“Who the fuck is Ryan?”
“Ryan is your son!” Tears were streaming down my face. “While you were off being Mr Big-Shot Rock star, I had a miscarriage! He died because of you!”
I threw open the patio doors, shattering the glass and ran upstairs to my room, locking the door. I buried my face into my pillow. I took a photo out of the dresser drawer. It was a sonogram of Ryan, my beautiful baby. My baby, who I’d never even held, never even seen.
April 2nd 1998
I had found out I was pregnant in February, just after the boys left, when I was three months gone. I dropped Stella off with Mike’s mother and went to the hospital for my five month sonogram. I couldn’t wait to tell Mike. I had wanted to tell him over the phone, but it would be better in person.
“Mrs Pritchard, would you like to know the gender of the baby?” the doctor asked, as he handed me a copy of the sonogram.
“Yes, please.” I smiled down at my beautiful baby.
“You’re having a boy.”
I looked up at the doctor. “A boy?”
“Yes.”
A tear rolled down my cheek as I walked out to the car. I had thought of a name, Ryan Edward Pritchard.
I got home and went indoors. It was dark outside. I flicked the light-switch but it didn’t work. Sighing, I got the flashlight out of the cupboard and went outside to the fuse box.
I set up the ladder. Mike normally did this, he never liked the idea of me going up ladders in case I hurt myself. I wasn’t sure what I had to do. I noticed that all the switches faced upwards, bar one, which faced down. I pushed it up. Looking out of the garage, I could see a light had come on.
I stepped down the ladder, thinking about Mike’s face when I told him he was going to have a son. I slipped and fell onto my stomach. I winced. I lay there for a minute, then got up.
Worried, I went inside and picked up the phone to call the doctor. I stopped when I felt the familiar sensation of my son kicking. I sighed with relief and placed the receiver back onto the cradle. Pausing, I turned back and picked it up. I dialled the doctor’s number.
“Hello, Dr Williams.”
“Hi, it’s Annie Pritchard.”
“Oh, what’s wrong Mrs. Pritchard?”
“I just fell onto my stomach and I’m worried about the baby.”
“How long ago?”
“About ten minutes.”
“Do you have any pains in your stomach?”
“No, but I felt the baby kicking.”
“That’s a good sign, but I want you to come and see me tomorrow for a check up, just to make sure you and the baby are ok. Come whenever you can tomorrow, I’ll fit you in.”
“Thank you Dr Williams.”
I hung up, relieved. I smiled as I felt Ryan kicking again.
I made myself some dinner, ate it and went to bed.
“Goodnight Ryan, Mommy loves you.”
* * *
I woke up. Something wasn’t right. I tried to sit up, but couldn’t, I didn’t seem to have the strength. Struggling, I reached over and switched on the light. Breathing heavily, I looked down.
And I screamed.
I was sobbing so hard I could barely breathe as I stared at the blood soaked sheets and felt the familiar pains of contractions.
“Not now Ryan, not now. Please, not now.”
Trembling, I reached for the phone by my bed. I dialled 911.
“Help me, my baby, there’s so much blood.” I sobbed down the phone.
“Miss, calm down, what’s wrong, where do you live?”
I reeled off my address and hung up, with the assurance that an ambulance would be there shortly. I desperately tried to get out of bed, but I couldn’t. The last thing I remember was blackness.
* * *
The next thing I knew, I was lying in a clean, cold white room. They told me I had passed out in my bed. That the paramedics broke the door down and found me, unconscious in a pool of blood.
They brought me straight here, to hospital, where my son, my beautiful baby boy, Ryan Edward Pritchard died on April 3rd 1998, at eleven minutes past two in the morning.
I watched Estelle run around the garden, occasionally plucking flowers out of the grass and running over to give them to me or Mom.
“Sweetheart,” Mom sighed. “Talk to Michael. I’m sure he’d understand.”
“No. It was like this when we were dating too.”
“Then you can hardly claim you didn’t know.”
“Yes, but when we were dating I went with him sometimes.”
“You could go with him now.”
“No I couldn’t.”
“Why not? Has he told you he doesn’t want you coming?”
“No. But Estelle’s too young to go.”
“Well, she could stay with your father and I.”
I remained silent.
“Fine. It’s your life. Just try and think about what’s best for Stella.” She sighed, getting up and walking into the kitchen. I twisted my engagement ring around my finger, absently. I took it off to look at it, along with my wedding ring.
I twirled it around, making it catch the light. Stella came running over. She held out her hand. I put the ring in it. She scampered back into the garden.
I still held my wedding ring, examining it, feeling the smooth metal. I placed it on the arm of my chair, took off my necklace and threaded my ring onto the necklace.
“Stella?” I called. She looked up, covered in dirt. “Can I have my ring please?”
She ran over.
“Where’s my ring?”
“Ring tree!” she shrieked.
“What?”
“I bury! Ring tree!”
I ran down the garden and eventually, I found the ring. I walked inside to clean it up. I cleaned it and put it on my necklace with my wedding ring.
I heard a knock on the door. My mother walked out to answer it as I walked back to the garden. I sat down and watched Estelle.
I could hear voices in the hall, but ignored them. I watched Stella lying on the grass, pointing up at the sky. She sat up grinning.
“Daddy!” she shrieked.
I spun round at the sound of footsteps. I saw Mike and Billie Joe.
“Estelle, go inside.”
Too late. Estelle ran into towards Mike and hugged him. I looked accusingly at Billie.
“What?”
“Was this your idea?”
“No!”
“Did Adrienne tell you where I was?”
Mike glowered at Billie. “Adrienne knew?”
“Adrienne had no idea, neither did Liv! They’ve been worrying about you for ages!” Billie pointed a finger at me. My mother walked outside.
“Billie, why don’t you take Stella and we’ll have a coffee inside?”
Mike reluctantly passed Stella to Billie and he walked inside with my mother. They closed the patio door and left me alone with Mike. I sat back down, staring down the garden.
“Why did you leave?” Mike said quietly.
“What? You actually noticed?”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“You are never home Mike! You’re always at the studio or on tour. You never spend any time with me or Estelle! She needs her father!”
“That is not true! I spend every spare minute I have with you and Estelle! You know why I’m away so much, you knew that when we got together, you knew that when you said you’d marry me! Do you have any idea how much grief I’ve got from Billie, Tré, Rob and every fucker else about leaving early, arriving late and cutting time off the tour to spend time with you?”
“Well, that’s mighty big of you Mike, thank you for putting up with a couple of slaps on the wrist. I’ve been alone for months on end. You never call…”
“I call every single day, more than once a day, but you never fucking answer the phone!”
“Well maybe if you’d spent more time at home you’d know about Ryan!”
“Who the fuck is Ryan?”
“Ryan is your son!” Tears were streaming down my face. “While you were off being Mr Big-Shot Rock star, I had a miscarriage! He died because of you!”
I threw open the patio doors, shattering the glass and ran upstairs to my room, locking the door. I buried my face into my pillow. I took a photo out of the dresser drawer. It was a sonogram of Ryan, my beautiful baby. My baby, who I’d never even held, never even seen.
April 2nd 1998
I had found out I was pregnant in February, just after the boys left, when I was three months gone. I dropped Stella off with Mike’s mother and went to the hospital for my five month sonogram. I couldn’t wait to tell Mike. I had wanted to tell him over the phone, but it would be better in person.
“Mrs Pritchard, would you like to know the gender of the baby?” the doctor asked, as he handed me a copy of the sonogram.
“Yes, please.” I smiled down at my beautiful baby.
“You’re having a boy.”
I looked up at the doctor. “A boy?”
“Yes.”
A tear rolled down my cheek as I walked out to the car. I had thought of a name, Ryan Edward Pritchard.
I got home and went indoors. It was dark outside. I flicked the light-switch but it didn’t work. Sighing, I got the flashlight out of the cupboard and went outside to the fuse box.
I set up the ladder. Mike normally did this, he never liked the idea of me going up ladders in case I hurt myself. I wasn’t sure what I had to do. I noticed that all the switches faced upwards, bar one, which faced down. I pushed it up. Looking out of the garage, I could see a light had come on.
I stepped down the ladder, thinking about Mike’s face when I told him he was going to have a son. I slipped and fell onto my stomach. I winced. I lay there for a minute, then got up.
Worried, I went inside and picked up the phone to call the doctor. I stopped when I felt the familiar sensation of my son kicking. I sighed with relief and placed the receiver back onto the cradle. Pausing, I turned back and picked it up. I dialled the doctor’s number.
“Hello, Dr Williams.”
“Hi, it’s Annie Pritchard.”
“Oh, what’s wrong Mrs. Pritchard?”
“I just fell onto my stomach and I’m worried about the baby.”
“How long ago?”
“About ten minutes.”
“Do you have any pains in your stomach?”
“No, but I felt the baby kicking.”
“That’s a good sign, but I want you to come and see me tomorrow for a check up, just to make sure you and the baby are ok. Come whenever you can tomorrow, I’ll fit you in.”
“Thank you Dr Williams.”
I hung up, relieved. I smiled as I felt Ryan kicking again.
I made myself some dinner, ate it and went to bed.
“Goodnight Ryan, Mommy loves you.”
* * *
I woke up. Something wasn’t right. I tried to sit up, but couldn’t, I didn’t seem to have the strength. Struggling, I reached over and switched on the light. Breathing heavily, I looked down.
And I screamed.
I was sobbing so hard I could barely breathe as I stared at the blood soaked sheets and felt the familiar pains of contractions.
“Not now Ryan, not now. Please, not now.”
Trembling, I reached for the phone by my bed. I dialled 911.
“Help me, my baby, there’s so much blood.” I sobbed down the phone.
“Miss, calm down, what’s wrong, where do you live?”
I reeled off my address and hung up, with the assurance that an ambulance would be there shortly. I desperately tried to get out of bed, but I couldn’t. The last thing I remember was blackness.
* * *
The next thing I knew, I was lying in a clean, cold white room. They told me I had passed out in my bed. That the paramedics broke the door down and found me, unconscious in a pool of blood.
They brought me straight here, to hospital, where my son, my beautiful baby boy, Ryan Edward Pritchard died on April 3rd 1998, at eleven minutes past two in the morning.