Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: FERHOODLE (confuse or mix-up) (03/03/16)
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TITLE: September Rouge | Previous Challenge Entry
By Gary Ritter
03/07/16 -
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Mrs. Rowley’s sincere blue eyes spoke truth that resonated with me. It brought tears I couldn’t hold back, and she clasped my hand with more warmth than I’d known for months.
“Is it possible for you to see abortion as a loving act?”
Her question confused me for a moment. I thought about it and slowly answered. “Yes, I guess so. I love this child but have no way to care for it.”
“Do you think God will forgive you for having such love?”
I frowned as I tried to make sense of it all. “They say God is love. If that’s true, then I suppose so; that God will forgive anything.”
Mrs. Rowley pointed to the wall beside her counseling degree. “See these pink hearts? When you make the right decision you can also place a heart here for this fetus you loved so much.
I gave her a tentative smile. “That would be nice.”
“Remember they’re only unformed cells. Are you ready, Alicia?”
The words caught in my throat, so I nodded my assent. Mrs. Rowley opened a drawer and took out a smooth blue stone, which she placed in my hand.
“This is for you to keep as a remembrance of this wonderful day.”
She led me to another part of the building past the counseling offices with their warm furnishings and lovely framed pictures.
“You just go in here and follow the instructions. You’ll be fine.” She gave me a hug. I trembled at her touch and held more firmly to the stone.
The door closed behind me. Inside was disconcerting; so sterile and impersonal compared to my last thirty minutes. A disembodied female voice startled me. “Walk to the second door on your left.”
I paused – too long. “Please. Second door on left.”
“Okay. I’m going.” Once I stepped over the threshold the entry door whispered shut. Everything in the room was stainless steel. A pleasant heat poured in to take the chill from the air.
“You will be examined. Please disrobe and sit on the table.” There was no one to ask about the process.
Stirrups extracted from the table. Rapid instructions followed. It felt strange and humbling to go through the entire automated process. In a hesitant tone I ventured to the ceiling, “Will a doctor see me personally?”
The voice confirmed my fears. “Not today.” A pill dispenser appeared in the wall. “Take the green one now and the orange one at home in six hours.”
“Wait. You’re not going to do the procedure here?” I didn’t understand why the first part of this with Mrs. Rowley had been so pleasant and this…well, this wasn’t.
“By tomorrow morning you will evacuate the fetus. Any problems, call our hotline.”
I took the green pill. It stuck in my throat, but I got it down. Without a conscious thought my hand grasped the blue stone. Everything would be fine. It was for the good of the…fetus, and God was okay with this. Mrs. Rowley had said so.
As I slipped from the room I caught a whiff of disinfectant. The door fastened tight behind me and I glanced in through the small window. Jets of water sprayed from multiple apertures washing down every steel surface. All trace of me was obliterated.
Obedient, I swallowed the orange pill at the appropriate time. Soon, all this would be over. The clump of cells within me – not a child – would be flushed away and given over to God.
Near morning I began cramping and ran for the toilet. I expelled a bloody mess but something wasn’t right. Blood-tinged vomit poured from my mouth. Panicking I called the hotline for September Rouge hoping to speak with Mrs. Rowley. A message said, “Your call is important to us, please call during business hours. If this is an emergency, dial 911 or go to your local hospital ER.”
I slammed down the phone, doubling over in pain.
The ambulance responded within five minutes. Later the doctor treating me said I was lucky. “That abortion clinic you went to – September Rouge – is notorious for girls ending up here like you did. Some have died.”
When I left the hospital I tossed the blue stone down a sewer grate. I never returned to place a pink heart on the clinic’s wall.
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Brilliant writing on such a controversial topic. I liked how the tone became mechanical at the end.