The Final Countdown

The Final Countdown



Five...


Please don’t do this. I haven’t even taken my first breath in the real world and you’re not allowing that to happen? Don’t do this.. I’m begging you. I’ll do anything, I swear. I-(stutter) I’ll be a good child. Won’t cry, whine, holler, none of that! You don’t gotta breast feed me, just pop some formula in and I’ll be set. Get me a few outfits that’ll last me throughout the year and that’s all I ask for. Just please don’t end the life I haven’t even started.


Four...


I can feel how you think. I know I’m just an unborn fetus but hey, I have feelings too! That’s how I know what you’re about to do. And how I know how I got here. You think about it everyday, so I think about it too. And I HATE that because why would I want to think about my own death? About me never being able to play with my friends, or go to Chuck- E- Cheeses. I hate him, too, you know. Sometimes I wish he’d never did what he did, because if he didn’t I would be here counting down the minutes until my death.


Three...


You still have thoughts about your wrists, that were held down as you tried to fight that asshole off. It didn’t work. He was too strong and you were too weak. Him, slapping and slapping you, and covering your mouth with his sweaty, smelly palms. I can even hear your screams, that sounded like fire alarms. As he penetrated your small, fragile body, right then and there you put up a wall isolating yourself from the world. Your burning emotions flow through you at the thought of it happening to you, but it doesn’t melt your ice cold heart.





Two...


Know what else I can feel you feel? The way people judge you. That’s the main reason why you’re getting rid of me. Because you care so much about what people, who don’t give two shits about you, think. Forget them! They don’t put clothes on your back, or shoes on your feet, or put food on the table. Why do you care so much what they think? They won’t ever love you the way I will. Well, the way I would have if you’d let me live.


One...

But then again, maybe keeping me isn’t the best idea. You’re only 15. You can barely take care of yourself, let alone a newborn baby. I can feel your stomach growling for food at night, and your head pound with pain because you haven’t eaten for 4 days. I know for sure I don’t want to live that kind of life. So, maybe you should get rid of me. I mean, who would want to have the same dad as their mother.


Zero.


Your heart is pounding out of your chest, that must mean the doctor is coming. Goodbye world, which I never got to see. Goodbye to the “father” who put a child in his own daughter. Goodbye to those assholes who judged you but had no idea what happened. I wish we’d get this over with already…

(long pause)


Wait. What’s going on? Why do I feel you rethinking this? What are you doing! Dammit. I can’t yell because, well, I don’t even have a voice! Doctor come back! Cut her open and take me out. Please. Just let me go. (dramatic ending scene)




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