Let Me Be the One

I just stood there like that for about five minutes, my hand holding the phone to my ear with my jaw dropped as I realized what I had just done. Once again, in my pathetic little life, I had ruined everything.

You know, maybe I deserved to be classified as one of those blonde sluts that do everything they can to destroy lives. I've done a sure hell of a job, filling in that title unintentionally.

I mean, look at me. I'm pregnant, having not a clue which man the father is. I literally just destroyed the last strong relationship I had with anyone - other than Mandie, but I guess since we were friends, she'd be classed as my 'follower.'

I have hurt so many people in this past year, that I would need five hands to count it all. Twice, I have told Frank that we weren't friends and twice, I have told him that I don't love him. I have said countless bitchy things to Samantha and just roped Ray into the middle of my business.

I dropped the phone on the tiled floor and leaned against the blue countertops to steady myself. I caused pain to so many other people. So much pain.

Tears didn't fall from my eyes, I had already cried too much. How was it fair that I was the one to cry when everyone around me way hurting?

I stumbled forward, not even really sure where I was going until I tumbled down the stairs and crawled to the kitchen. I was on the ground, pulling myself across the dark brown floors as I scrambled to get to the counter by the stove.

I wrapped my fingers around the edge of the marble countertops and pulled myself to my unstable feet. I spotted what I had been searching for and immediately grabbed the wooden knife rack pulling it to the floor along with my body.

I dumped all the sharp, silver knives on the ground and picked up the biggest, and sharpest of them all. The meat cleaver.

I deserve to feel the pain I caused to others. To feel even a quarter of what I made them feel by just being me. I held out my arm and shakily pressed the cleaver against my forearm. It didn't even break the skin.

"Cut..." I whispered, "just cut, cut, cut!"

I moved the cleaver to my hand and pressed harder against the skin. Still, it didn't even break the skin. "CUT!" I screamed, "CUT!CUT!CUT!"

I slashed the cleaver across my hand and finally, blood started to appear. I bit my lip as the stinging set it. Blood started to drip from the deep cut and onto the floor.

You know when you read those stories about those people who apply a little pressure and their skin miraculously breaks and bleeds all over the place? That bullshit.

You have to slice to break the skin.

Tears were now flowing from my eyes, partly from the pain, as I dropped the meat cleaver and picked up a chefs knife. I held out my forearm again and this time, began doing it the right way.

Fifteen minutes later, I was curled up in a ball on the kitchen floor with blood coming from my hand, my forearm and my hip. I deserved this. All this pain.

After a few minutes, I finally got to my feet and started cleaning up the mess. I couldn't do much about the blood, but it blended in with the dark floor. I collected all the knives and dumped them into the sink just before walking out if the kitchen and up the stairs.

I pulled a loose, grey V-neck and pulled in over my head. The short sleeves didn't cover the scratches but then again, I didn't really care if they were covered or not. I was in my own home. Nobody was going to see.

I collapsed on the bed and closed my eyes, letting my exhaustion and pain take me away.

[x]

Mrs. Brown left me Snugs and half of her money in her will. That was a lot. She didn't really have anyone else to give it to because her family was mainly dead. The house and all it's belongings were sold, except for the photo albums which were given to all her close friends.

I was the one to get her wedding album.

I flipped to the next page as I lay curled up on my bed with the book on my lap and Snugs laying next to me, snoring softly. He mostly slept all day and I could tell that he was missing his owner because he stopped barking and just stared out the window at Mrs. Browns old house.

Mrs. Brown was gorgeous when she was young. She used to have long curly hair that reached her back and big grey eyes. She didn't even need to wear makeup but she always had on soft, pink blush and ruby red lips.

Randy Brown was also quite handsome. He was tall and muscular, Mrs. Brown only came up to his shoulders and was more slender than he was. She did have a small belly but she wasn't fat. His hair was buzzed and for his wedding, he wore an army uniform. They looked so happy together.

There were a few pages of photos after the wedding of Randy and Hilda settling down in their new home and some of them curled up on the couch, simply loving each other. And then, the page after those, came as a complete shock.

Mrs. Brown had hers hands wrapped around her large belly as she stood next to Randy, who was wearing an official uniform. Her cheeks were tear stained and I could see a bus in the background that was picking up soldiers to send them off.

I had known that Randy Brown went to war a few months after they got married but I had no idea that he was leaving behind a pregnant wife as well. Mrs. Brown never mentioned children!

I flipped the page again to find that it was blank except for a single sheet of old paper. It was a letter.

My dearest Randy:

I would like to start off by saying that I miss you and I love you more than the world which it stands on its axle. I hope you come home soon and will run into your arms when the time comes.

But this letter to you is not to explain how much I love you and I miss you, because you already know that. This letter is to deliver dreadful news.

I have written, destroyed and rewritten these words too many times to count. There is no easy way to say this and I have to say it outright if I would ever be able to say it at all.

I lost the baby.

Out child, our wonderful, glorious child is gone and there is nothing I could do. I woke up one night and there was blood all around me. The doctors say that is wasn't my fault but I can't bring myself to believe them. I'm so so sorry and I couldn't possibly find words to describe how much I hate myself.

Please come home soon, I need you here. I know you won't want to see me. You won't want to see the person who unintentionally killed your child to be but I need you here in my arms.

I feel so alone, Randy. We were only a few weeks away from having a beautiful baby. Charlotte or Vincent, depending on the gender. It rips me to shreds that I hurt you like this.

I'm sorry.

~Hilda

I stared at the letter, examining the tear stained letters and smudged ink that filled the page. Mrs. Brown was pregnant once, just like me.

The only difference is that she want this baby and I don't. She felt like absolute shit when she miscarriages and I felt like shit because I wouldn't miscarriage. How selfish could I be?

No wonder Frank was so hurt when I told him that I wanted an abortion. I told him that I wanted to kill his baby! His only child!

I closed the album and placed it on the nightstand before taking my phone in my hand and finding Frank. He wouldn't answer my calls, I knew that much. But he might read my text.

I started typing as the sky grew darker and my eyes grew heavier. This would take a long time if I wanted it to be perfect.