Trembling hands couldn’t dial Joanne fast enough. She picks up, but my voice no longer seems to be with me.

“Hello? Jenna, are you there?” she asks.

“Yes,” I squeak out. Without taking a breath or thinking I explain everything to her right away about the things that have been happening to me for the past few days. “I think there is something happening to me.”

Joanne sighs before speaking, “I think you are having night terrors due to guilty feelings about the abortion. I think you should see and speak with a therapist to help you get through this.”

“I don’t feel guilty about the work I do or the decision I made for myself. Something is happening to me, and I don’t understand it. Maybe it’s lack of sleep, or the loss of blood from the pills. It’s been three weeks already and most of the bleeding have subsided, and the cramps are all but gone now.”

“I really believe you are dealing with guilt, Jenna. Why else would you be harming yourself or experiencing these night terrors about dead infants?”

“Why would I scratch myself till I bleed Jo’? I’m telling you something is wrong.”

Not sure what else to say, I ask her if I can come over and stay the rest of the night at her spot. She obliged, grateful to have me in her sights. She gasps when she sees my sunken in eyes surrounded by dark circles and the scratches along my neck.

“God you look horrible!” she exclaims.

“Gee, thanks. I feel as horrible as I look.”

We lie in her bed next to one another to try and get some rest. My eyes close from the heaviness and I sleep.


Bacon filled air creep into my nostrils causing my eyes to shoot open. The smell of cooked food raises me from my slumber, leading me to the pig frying in a pan. Joanne smiles when she sees me enter the kitchen.

“Good morning. You’re looking better after a good night’s sleep.”

I nod my head to agree as I snatch a muffin on the counter, and stuff it in my mouth. Soft moans of pleasure escape my lips as I swallow the rest of the blueberry goodness. “It’s been so long since I’ve had real food.”

“Good. Eat up. You’re going to need the energy for later. We’re going to see my friend Christopher Hoches, he’s a therapist at the asylum.”

I just nod my head in agreement again. Anything at this point that would help me understand what’s happening is greatly appreciated. I’m not sure guilt plays a factor in any of this. It feels more like punishment than any denial of guilt. It was my choice to get an abortion, and it is a choice for many of the women who have entered my clinic. My decision was well thought out and weighed upon. Raising a child alone was not a future I wanted.

Not long after breakfast and getting dressed, we head out to Jo’s car to head to the asylum. Maybe there is where I can find some answers, or get help rationalizing recent events. During the drive, watching blurs of greens, yellows, and browns blur by, I can’t help but wonder if my family disease of schizophrenia is making itself known.


Previously: The Unborn: Part 3 by Grim Angel