(WARNING! Miscarriage/stillbirth, along with various reactions to it)
Sinbad was in the bathroom when his phone rang. He groaned in frustration as he bent down to grab hold of it out of his pants pocket.
“Yeah?” He couldn’t clearly hear the person on the other end. He then covered the mouthpiece, and called out to Shark in the other room:
“Turn the TV down! I’m taking a call!” He waited for the volume to lower, then asked again who it was.
Curious at who Sinbad was talking to, Shark muted the show he was watching and crept to the door. He pressed his ear to the wood, and tried to make out what he was saying.
“So what’s up? Yeah, we’re still at your house. Why, what happened?” The next question caused Shark to jump.
“You’re where?! Shit, hang on.” He waited for Sinbad to finish up and come back out of the bathroom. “Yeah, hold on. I’ll ask him.”
Sinbad covered the mouthpiece again, and turned to look over at his fiance. “You know that fashion place here in town? The one on top of the tattoo parlor.”
“Yeah, I know it.” Shark recalled the parlor from some point in his childhood, watching his father get a large tattoo on his back. It was one of the few times Dennis had made time for him back then.
He remembered the look on his father’s face as he was being inked; it was one of resignation, of sadness. Shark never could understand why that was.
“Amy wants me to go keep an eye on the place. She says she’s at the hospital, for reasons. Can you stay here and watch her house?”
Shark nodded, without hesitation. Sinbad returned it, then went back to speaking to Amy.
“Yeah, he can do it. Hang on, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
All she could remember from her workplace to the hospital was blood and screaming. Jenni was shouting panicked questions about what was happening, along with begging her unborn child not to die.
From what the doctors were saying, her pleas were in vain. Amy could only sit out in the corridor, as her best friend cried hysterically out of grief.
Every update she’d gotten, the child had been fine. No one could understand just what exactly happened that caused this.
Amy desperately wanted to comfort Jenni, but she didn’t know what she could say. Her words would also have sounded empty, and hypocritical.
Out of fear and concern, Amy placed a hand over her own swollen belly. It didn’t seem right to still be friends with someone, whilst carrying the child of that someone’s lover.
She could hear Jenni’s parents, trying desperately to comfort their daughter. It didn’t seem effective when they kept blaming each other for ‘causing’ this to happen.
“I don’t understand…” Goodwin now realized his plan for ‘fixing’ a mistake had backfired. That, or the mysterious person had twisted the meaning of his words.
Stunned into silence, he could only look upon what was supposed to be his fiancee’s child. He didn’t dare go see Jenni. At the least, there was a chance someone could blame him.
“What do you mean? I did what you told me to do.” Goodwin turned around to see the mysterious person from earlier, looking at him.
His grief now turned into anger. “I didn’t mean this! This isn’t what I wanted you to do!” His hand curled up into a fist, which shook in rage along with the rest of him.
“I’m sorry, but what did you tell me, exactly?” They approached him, unfazed by his display of hatred. “Ah, now I remember! ‘Please have my child dealt with’. If I recall, you didn’t specify which one. And there were two of them, so I must’ve gotten confused.”
The person made a show of scratching their head, rather mockingly. Then they shrugged. “Oh, well. Maybe the dark-haired one will let you adopt hers, or something.” Then they began to go.
Goodwin reached out, grabbing them by the wrist. He ended up with an annoyed expression as a response.
“Give it back.” The person said nothing. “I said, give me back my child! I want my child back!” Tears began streaming down his face.
The mystery person shook him off, stepping back to face him again. The first answer was a short, yet cruel one:
“No.” Goodwin then felt a blow to the face. He stumbled over, falling onto his back. He then felt a foot step onto him, along with the mystery person’s face leaning in close to his. Their long hair framed their face, like a tangled curtain.
“Even if that child hadn’t died, what kind of life would it live? An adulterous father, and an ignorant mother? Considering the life it would’ve had in store, I think I did it a favor.”
Here they paused, raising their other foot to stomp onto Goodwin’s hand. He reacted accordingly, howling in pain from feeling his fingers break. His eyesight blurred even more, which obscured the unreadable expression this person had.
“You listen, and you listen good. I’ve no sympathy for cheating pricks.” Their voice had suddenly become raspy. “You think you’re going to get away with it? Well, you’re wrong!”
They stepped off, leaving him to sit up and hold his now injured hand. He tried to interrupt them, to no effect.
“Soon, the time will come that the truth will get out. When that day comes, you’ll become a pariah. You’ll be without a job, without friends, without a home even!”
With the way they pointed at him, Goodwin could’ve sworn they were cursing him.
“You will lose all that you have, and when you do…” Their voice rose about an octave in pitch. “You’ll only have yourself to blame!”
When they finished talking, the person then swiveled around to punch the wall. The impact caused the room to shake. Goodwin closed his eyes, waiting for something to fall on him.
Nothing came. Opening his eyes again, he saw the person was gone.
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