The Soldier (Part One: Searching For The Better)

Glancing down, her eyes inflamed by tears cried too many, the letters came forth and spelled the end of her life. “I’m...” She coughed, her voice unstable and her eyes threatening to erupt with more tears. “I’m pregnant...” The test dropped slowly upon the ceramic tiles, leading to a small chime as the material hit the floor. A small vibration came for her pocket and “Storm” by Lifehouse sang through the material of her torn blue jeans. “Hello?” as much as she wanted to have confidence, weakness broke through and her voice gave a mourning crack. 1

“Oh, nothings wrong...no....I’m sure...going back? Why?” Her heart sank into her stomach, making her feel as though she was sure to throw it back up any second. “Yeah, I know... You have a duty to your damn country...” Like spiting venom into a fresh wound, he told her he was going back....back to Iraq...back to hell... “Don’t tell me that....I don’t wanna hear it... And I’m not important?” Hate busted from her veins, wanting to cover all the walls in bloody ire. “What if I was pregnant...or something...” The other end of the phone is silent and she can almost imagine what he is thinking, ‘If I wasn’t going before, I’m going now for sure’ “Am I, really? No, don’t be silly.” She’s lying through her teeth and hopes only that he won’t notice how heavy her heart is becoming. “I’m just...just mad.... I’m not pregnant.... I promise...” A crack comes from her throat and she is on the edge of a never-ending fall; which is seeming only more and more appealing with every word that exits his mouth. 2

“Yes, I’m sure...God...Aren’t you busy loading your gun or something?” Suddenly her mouth is dry for thinking that he might never have to know. “I have to go...Bye...Yeah, I love you too...bye...” The farewell is quiet and sad with the thoughts coursing so strongly through her mind. A hand clasps her stomach, considering the life and heartbeat of another inside her. “I’m in no way fit to raise you...” she whispers softly to ears she’s not sure can even hear it. “It would be better this way...” While looking up the number of a local clinic, she forgets who she’s trying to convince this is better, the baby or her...3

With her Upstage in hand, her fingers, trembling terrible. And dialing seems to be the most impossible task now. “Hello, Idlewood Clinic, Amy speaking...” The phone slips from her hands, dancing for awhile upon the floor before coming to a final rest. ‘Conversation Ended...’ typed out across the screen.