She walked, slowly, up the stairs. Reaching for the glass door, she was unsure what to expect. Instantly she thought of the series of events that lead to this moment; shame and fear flooded over her. One small part of her wanted to run, run from the door, from him, from them, from the whole situation. But she didn’t. The part of her that wanted to run was overpowered by her pride. She couldn’t do what she wanted to now no matter what. It would mean she wasn’t strong. It would mean admitting that she wasn’t capable of making her own decisions only reinforcing that THIS decision was right because it was theirs, that they were right. Going on her own allowed her to maintain some level of control in an otherwise out of control situation. It made them think that she agreed with them, and it made her feel like she was making the decision. She continued to wrestle with the decision as she walked through the door and into the cold empty lobby.
She thought she would see a medical office, with office staff and other familiar sights. She thought she would see a waiting room, complete with magazines and tables. Instead, it was more like a corporate office lobby. It seemed cold, professional. The thoughts of running crept in again, but once again pride over took them.
As she waited for her “interview”, she again thought of the circumstances that brought her to this point. Why, she wondered, had she violated her own moral code? Why had she defied her parents, her mother? Why had she wanted to wander from the safety and security of childhood? And why can’t she go back? Why does it have to be this way? She wanted to turn back the hands of time and change the decisions that were made, to make better ones…different ones. She looked down at her slightly swollen belly, and quickly diverted her own attention. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, allow herself to go there. She couldn’t think about it.
A moment later, they called her name. She followed through the wooden door. A few hours later, she emerged, tearfully, painfully, empty.