Young Writers Society

Friday evening came, and Lucy found Holly in their room, praying over her Bible.

“Come on, let’s go,” Lucy said.

Holly looked up from her Bible, and Lucy saw that her face was tearstained. “I don’t know if I can do this,” she whimpered, “I don’t think it’s right.”

“Holly, of course it’s right,” Lucy replied, fear coming into her voice, “I’m not going to miss this appointment. If you won’t take me, I’ll go down to the corner and wait for a bus.”

“No, please don’t!” Holly jumped up from her desk. “I’ll take you.”

They walked out to Holly’s car. Dark clouds were gathering above the city, but the lamps along the streets and sidewalks kept the ground well-lit. Lucy just hoped there wouldn’t be a thunderstorm before they got back. It was a long walk to Holly’s car, but both girls were silent the whole way.

Holly plugged in her MP3 player and turned on her car’s engine. The MP3 player was on a random shuffle. As Holly pulled out of her parking spot, Lucy sat back in her seat and listened to the song’s guitar intro. A man started to sing:

“I thought that I heard crying coming through my door,

Was it Rachel weeping for her sons who were no more?

Could it have been the babies crying for themselves?

Never understanding that they died for someone else…”*

“Turn that off!” Lucy shrieked.

Holly jumped, almost running off the road, and she hurriedly reached down and pressed the “next” button on her MP3 player. The song changed to gentle, instrumental music with recorded birdsong. “I’m sorry,” Holly said shakily, “I didn’t know it would be that song. Really, I didn’t.”

Everyone and everything is against me, Lucy thought, turning her head and looking out at the passing city lights. She felt lost and afraid. In just a few hours it will all be over, she told herself. After the abortion, everything would be better. The nightmare would be over.

Holly pulled into a parking spot in front of the clinic but stopped almost a foot away from the curb as though she didn’t want to get any closer to the place than she had to. She was staring down at her lap, and Lucy noticed that her knuckles where white as she grasped the steering wheel. “Are you really sure you want to do this?” she whispered.

“I’m sure,” Lucy replied, and she jumped out of the car before she could change her mind. Her heart was pounding, and she grew more anxious with every step. She entered the clinic.

The first place they sent her to was a small room where a counselor waited for her. The counselor was an elegant woman with black hair partially tied up in a short ponytail.

Hone-Onna asked Lucy some questions, and Lucy told her what had happened. However, she didn’t mention the fact that Paul wanted to keep the baby.

“So you don’t think you would be able to take care of it?” Hone-Onna asked gently.

“I don’t,” Lucy said.

“And you’re certain you want to go through with this?”

“Please, Ma’am, don’t try to stop me like everyone else. I’m sick of arguing.”

“No, I’m not in a position to try to stop you,” Hone-Onna replied. I’m never in a position to interfere, she thought, looking at Lucy empathetically, Poor girl, you don’t realize what it will be like to lose a baby. She was thinking of her friend, Kiyo, from 200 years ago.

After filling out some paperwork which did not require her name, Lucy sat down in a waiting room with some other women. Most of the other women were nervous and silent like her, but the one sitting next to her laughed at her terrified expression and asked carelessly if this was her first abortion. She turned away without replying.

~~~

*The song is "Spirit of the Age" by Michael Card