The Cost of Perfection

Walking across the stage receiving her diploma was one of the proudest moments of her life, and one of the most terrifying.  She couldn’t believe she was the first one in her family to graduate from college but she still had no idea what she was going to do about her situation. If her father ever found out what she had done he would never get over it; never look at her the same, and she just couldn’t bear the thought of that. Besides, what did she know about life? Her mother was no help. She did exactly what her father told her to, no questions asked. No, she couldn’t go to her mother for help. She’d have to handle this on her own and that’s just what she planned to do.

A few weeks after graduation when all of her friends were splitting their time between sending out resumes and sunning themselves at the local beach, she was making completely different plans all her own. The boy who got her into this situation had proven himself useless, naively declaring his love for her and proposing marriage when she told him about her problem. After his reaction she knew she was completely on her own, and so she took matters into her own hands.

Because he wanted to get married and didn’t see the situation as a problem the same way she did, he refused to give her the money she so desperately needed in order to fix her problem. Ever the resilient one, that didn’t stop her. So she asked around circles she wouldn’t typically be caught dead associating with, and found out about an affordable doctor who specialized in helping “fix” little problems like hers discreetly. Immediately, she made an appointment.

The following week she found herself on a sketchy block downtown headed into an even sketchier building for her appointment. Something in her gut told her to turn and go home; talk to her parents, but she ignored it and went upstairs to see the doctor. Before she knew it she was lying on a cold, wooden, table and a man who didn’t look anything like a doctor was coming at her with what looked like a kitchen knife. When she attempted to protest he pushed her down and assured her “everyone gets nervous, you’ll be fine.” Except she wasn’t nervous. She had changed her mind and so she began to fight. No match for the sedative that he injected her with, she remembered crying and wanting her mother as she bled out on the table.

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