A/N: Written for a friend when I was about 15, so enough said! I'm putting it up at her request, but just remember, it definitely isn't my best work.
The girl tried to stifle her sobs as they clawed their way out of her throat in the silent room. She bit down on the cuff of her school shirt, trying to muffle the strangled cries that were begging to make themselves known in the tense atmosphere. The usually knotless, glossy blonde hair that she took pride in straightening every morning hung in a tangled mess in front of her face, shielding her from the disapproving glares being thrown in her direction.
“Honestly Audrey, how could you be so stupid!” her mother whispered harshly, taking in the sight of her disheveled daughter.
“I’m sorry,” she spluttered, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “I didn’t think this would happen.”
Her mother shook her head and returned her gaze to the blank teenaged boy sitting beside her daughter. The handsome face that had graced so many of the school’s magazines had paled to a sickly white. His dark blue eyes stared vacantly before him, as though his mind was somewhere else completely, his broad, strong shoulders set in a dejected slump.
The boy’s mother set her teacup back in its saucer and pursed her pink lips, casting a contemptuous stare in the direction of Audrey.
“I always knew Justin would find himself in trouble with that girl,” she said in a clipped tone, returning her gaze to her son. “This is the last thing he needs.”
Audrey lifted her head from her hands in disbelief. “And what about me? What do I need?”
“This is no fault but your own,” she replied, running a disapproving look over Audrey’s altered school uniform. The hem of her skirt lay a scandalous three inches above her knee, and the navy blue tie’s loosened knot hung down from her unbuttoned shirt.
Audrey self-consciously wiped her face, the black marks from her mascara-smudged cheeks scarring the pristine whiteness of her shirt’s cuffs. A hand with the reminder ‘Math homework-Tues’ scrawled across the palm in blue ink rubbed at her tearstained cheeks.
“It’s not my fault,” she whispered meekly, her soprano voice shaking slightly. She looked over at Justin. “Come on, J. Help me out here.”
Justin slowly pushed his gaze towards Audrey, his eyes holding the same empty expression. His mouth opened, but no words came from the useless cavern and he shut it. He helplessly shook his head in defeat, shattering Audrey’s last strand of hope.
Audrey chocked on the sob building up in her throat, and her hand flew up to cover her mouth. She wanted to jump off the leather sofa and scream at Justin to wake up from whatever dream he was in and accept that this was reality. She wanted to knock the teacup out of his scornful mother’s hand and throw back every mistake she had ever made into her face, until she felt as ashamed as Audrey did.
But most of all, she wanted her own mother to take her hand and tell her what to do, as she had done when Audrey was a little girl learning to cross the road. Audrey was back to that road now, she was at the gaping motorway clueless as to how to get across, and there was no mommy to help her across.
“Well, what are we going to do?” her mother finally asked, her voice slicing through stillness.
“There’s no question,” spluttered Justin’s mother incredulously. “She has to get rid of it.”
Audrey’s eyes snapped up in shock, but Justin slowly shut his, as though putting up the barrier of his eyelids and cutting off his sight would shut out the noises in the room.
“But…but…what?” Audrey stuttered helplessly. “Why?”
“Because, you stupid girl,” his mother scolded, her usually refined manner broken as anger poured from her, “my son has his career and his education to think of. He can’t have a child holding him back.”
Audrey’s mouth fell open as her words stabbed her like a thousand needles, each sharp tip heading straight for her emotions. She turned to Justin, only to see his closed eyes depriving her of any sort of communication. She felt the crushing blow of realization at the fact that Justin was certainly was not the man she thought she knew. He was just a little lost boy, too cowardly to face up to what he had done. After all, Audrey wanted to cry out in reply to all the disgusted glares, it was his baby too.
In a final attempt at alliance, she turned to her mother. Her perfectly styled blonde hair and blue eyes mirrored Audrey’s own, but she felt like a stranger to her as she sat in the armchair, her eyes watery with disappointment.
Her mother raised her gaze from the tassels on the Italian carpet and met Audrey’s stare, their identical eyes clashing in a frenzy of hurt blue. She took a deep breath and Audrey dug her nails in to the soft flesh of her palm, nervously awaiting her opinion.
“I think that would be best,” she whispered, an apologetic sympathy laced in her words.
Audrey gasped, her hand flying to her stomach instinctively in the defense of her unborn child, who had only been referred to as ‘it’ so far. Her head fell limply into her hands as indecipherable thoughts raced through her subconscious, her fingers diving into the mane of blonde that she briefly wondered might have adorned the head of her child.
Three pairs of eyes settled on her hunched form, the blank stares making her feel claustrophobic with loneliness. None of them wanted to help her or hear her side of the story and what she wanted. After all, she was only sixteen years old. Surely she didn’t have an idea about what was good for her?
Hot tears trickled down her rubbed raw cheeks, each one carrying away a little more of happiness. There was little doubt in her mind that she would comply with everyone’s wishes and have an abortion, and part of her understood their concerns. If she had a baby at her age, people would cast her off as an immoral, idiotic girl who had no principles. Not to mention the effect it would have on her education, which she had every intention of pursuing. Would that be possible with a baby?
And yet, she found little comfort in the thought of killing something that had done no harm to her. It was not just another human being; it was someone whose same blood ran through her veins. How could she just ‘get rid of it’?
She was at a crossroads where every turn led to a dead end. She was caged by her sense of conscience, and scorned by her common sense.
And she was on her own.
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