Alana is a character I created.
The story is pilfered from a lecturer.
The format of the prose is pretty much pilfered from "Invisible Monsters".... enjoy
Twirling a lock of blonde hair around her finger, Alana stared vacantly across the lecture theatre. Before her, a notebook lay open and unwritten in; pen abandoned beside. She stifled her millionth yawn – Jesus, how late had she been out last night? - and glanced around with her glazed eyes: the entire room was filled with students frantically scribbling. You had the OCD freaks with their specific type of pen writing elegantly in their pristine and perfectly organised notepads, and the scatterbrains, scrawling in their crumpled leafs of scrap paper with a borrowed pencil. Normally, she would have let a smirk creep around her mouth at their absurdity; but she was far too hungover for that today. A tentative look at her phone told her it was exactly 2 minutes since she last checked, with 58 minutes till the end.
Seconds passed, then minutes. Fifteen minutes passed, then half an hour. The lecturer continued prattling on about something – Alana had absolutely no idea: she was only here because they took attendance – and her absence grew more like a casual slip into a coma. In the distance, she heard a voice, catching occasional words. Fecundation. Naegele's Rule. Linea Nigra. She had such little idea what any of these words meant, he may as well have been speaking Chinese; though she actually spoke Chinese, so that might have been better.
“And now we come, sadly, to Abortions.”
Alana's trance broke instantly and she instinctively picked up her pen, staring intently at the lecturer.
Jump to 2009. Jump to the soccer field on a summer night. Jump to Alana running through the sprinklers laughing, beer in one hand and a boy's hand in the other. Jump to them beneath the bleachers making out.
“The unfortunate reality, is that of those embryos which have implanted successfully and are developing correctly, a large number don't get the chance to develop full term. Sometimes a woman may have been raped; sometimes a young teenage girl makes a mistake; sometimes an older teenage girl who should know better makes a mistake; sometimes contraceptives fail; sometimes the woman thinks she is ready to have a baby, but realises she is not.”
Jump to the quarterback's lips on hers. Jump to the smell of his cologne. Jump to him running his hands through her hair. Jump to his hand sliding up her shirt.
“There are criteria upon which we, as medical staff can grant an abortion. The sad reality is that these criteria can be manipulated to suit almost anyone. As you can see in your notes, one which is commonly used is 'continuing with the pregnancy would involve a greater risk of injury to the woman's health than would ending the pregnancy' and you will also see this is physical or mental health.”
Jump to them both naked. Jump to her asking him if he had a condom. Jump to him saying yes and claiming he'd put it on. Jump to her giggling and kissing him in the moonlight.
“If the situation fits any of the criteria you see here, abortion can be granted up until and including 24 weeks of gestation to allow the expectant mother more flexibility. However, the way modern paediatric medicine has been evolving, this has begun to present its own set of problems.”
Jump to Alana missing her period. Jump to her missing her period again. Jump to her attributing it to her pill. Jump to her noticing her stomach being larger than normal. Jump to her going on a diet to correct it. Jump to it not working. Jump to peeing on a stick. Jump to a blue cross.
“With our modern standards of medical care, the number of babies born prematurely has skyrocketted-”
Jump to Alana lying on the bed, legs in stirrups, single tear running down her cheek and teeth biting her lip so hard she was bleeding. Jump to Ethan holding her hand. Jump to that thing finally leaving her body.
Jump to when it started to cry. Jump to when her heart broke.
“- and sometimes, when a foetus is terminated close to the 24 week deadline, they are born alive.”
Jump to Alana standing beside an incubator sobbing. Jump to heart monitors blaring. Jump to when she held the daughter she hadn't wanted, but loved with her entire soul dead in her arms. Jump to when she held her daughter Maria dead in her arms.
Jump to Alana crying in the lecture theatre.
She sat there, staring at the lecturer, shaking with tears streaming down her face. Her dreams that haunted her flashed before her eyes and she saw Maria before her. The daughter that she killed. “Hey, Alana, are you like, okay?”
