She manages to push her way out of the door, pushing past the enthusiastic father, thanking her for saving his child’s life. It’s not what she needs right now. Maybe she saved one child’s life, but she let another one die. She did everything she could to help one baby to live, and yet she signed the form to kill her own. This morning, she was sitting drinking coffee. This afternoon, she was letting someone kill her child.

She wants to get to her car before she lets herself cry – it’s a control mechanism. If she can hold back the tears for a few minutes, then she can numb the pain. She knows that once she has got to her car, she’ll tell herself that she can’t cry until she arrives home. And that all pushes the hurt away. She’s used this method before. It’s always worked. On the surface, anyway. She doesn’t dare look beneath the surface. There is so much heartache buried there – she’s saving that. She doesn’t know what she’s saving it for, but one day, one day, she’ll get around to it.

One day, she’ll work through all her problems. She’ll admit everything that she ever did wrong, everything that was ever done to her. And she’ll be able to move on. But not today. She doesn’t feel like it today. But that’s what she says every day.

She pulls out her keys and gets into her car. As she opens the door, her phone falls out of her bag. When she picks it up, she almost screams. The display is showing her a name and a number – a name and a number that she will never ring again. And it’s at that moment, right now, right when she sees his name; she knows she’s made a dreadful mistake. She turns the phone off and throws it on the back seat – throws it away. She wants to throw away every memory of him – of them. But she’s still in control, so she doesn’t cry. She must not let herself cry. On no account must she cry. She repeats his to herself a few times, and finally starts driving. Because when she’s driving, she has to pay full attention to the road.

But when she stops the car in front of her house, she knows that the control isn’t working. Deep down, she’s always known that she is not in control of her life. If she were in control, then she wouldn’t be in this mess. Someone who was properly in control of her life would never have let things get this far. Once upon a time, she wouldn’t. But then… No. That’s verging on dangerous territory. Thinking about the past – mustn’t do that. Never do that.

When she sees the dirty coffee mug and the empty packet of aspirin sitting on the kitchen table, she knows that she isn’t in control. She didn’t tidy up that morning, needing to be in early, to see if she really was… Dangerous territory again. It’s amazing, she thinks. How can she leave everything in such a mess? And for once, she knows what she means. She doesn’t just mean the kitchen. She means her life. Her life is a mess.

She sits at the table. She can’t be bothered to tidy up now. Tidying up would take so long. But as she stares into the empty coffee cup, she can’t help but think a little bit. About her life… the mess she’s made of everything. It’s all her fault, she knows that. She should have told someone, confided in someone, but instead, she pushed them all away. She let her fears control her life. And now she’s paying for it.

She didn’t let him help her through her problems. All her problems came to a head suddenly, and she wanted to deal with them alone. She thought that he would put up more of a fight – she thought that he wouldn’t let her go. But when he didn’t say anything, she left. She was too proud to say that she was wrong. And now she’s too scared to put it right.

And she needed him today. But he wasn’t there. She wanted to wait for him. She wanted him to talk her out of it. To tell her that she was making a big mistake. But she knows that it wasn’t his fault. This time, it was all her own fault. She did it. She asked for it. She was the one who didn’t think of the consequences that night. She was the one who was careless. She knew what she was risking at the time, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was to be loved – just for one night. But when he got too close, she pushed him away. She wishes she hadn’t. She wishes she’d apologised. She’s apologised hundreds of times since his death, but she doesn’t know if he hears her. She was taught that he can hear her. But does she even believe that now? She doesn’t know.

This is one more thing to apologise for. She killed his child. And she didn’t even have a reason. Not really. She knows why she did it. It was for the same reason that she dumped him. She was scared. She was single and alone and pregnant. And it would have been hard to raise a child. But it would have been possible. The only reason she did it was to prove to herself that she could stay in control. She wanted to be in control. Because, in her mind, she knows that when she does have children, she wants to be married and happy and settled. And she is none of those things. But she has always wanted children, a family, the perfect life. And she never ever thought that she would have an abortion.

She never agreed with abortion. She always thought that if you were going to get pregnant, then you should handle the consequences. If you were stupid enough, irresponsible enough, to end up pregnant, then it was your fault. Follow it through. But when it happened to her… it was different, somehow. All her views changed. And when she realised that she could be pregnant, she barely even considered keeping it. It. Not a baby. It.

She realises that the coffee cup has disappeared. She is crying so hard that she can’t even see it. But it’s not only the coffee cup that has blurred and disappeared from her life. Everything has. And she doesn’t know how to even start getting them back.