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fear.
    She'd thought at the time that she was doing
the right thing for everyone. Scott needed to learn how it was to
deal with the real world, and Ella wasn't doing him any favors by
letting him nest down with her, nor did he deserve the free ride.
All she'd ever wanted in her little world was to raise a family,
and Scott had taken all that away from her. Now he was going to
learn about consequences.
    The headaches were getting worse by degrees;
this was by far the worst one yet. She couldn't think any more. She
went to the bathroom to hunt for an aspirin; there were too many
bottles of pills behind the mirror. Most of them had to be
Scott's—he still had his crap spread around the apartment, even
though it'd been weeks since she'd told him to get lost. He needed
to get his stuff out of her space.
    The first time she'd gotten pregnant, she'd
expected Scott to be overjoyed like she was and ready to start
their new lives together. He'd been less than ecstatic. The more he
talked, the less excited she'd been about it, too. He'd been right,
no matter how much she wanted it otherwise. They were poor. They
didn't even own a car. They were too young. They were stupid.
They’d make bad parents. She'd make a bad mother. The whole
situation would end up being so awful that he'd have to leave her,
eventually. It would all be her fault.
    Always talking talking talking , until
she heard the words all the time, even when she was alone. They had
a way of working their way into your head, of beating themselves
into you.
    He was right, and she knew it, and so she did
the only thing that occurred to her. She waited until he'd gone out
job-hunting and then made a phone-call. When the day of her
appointment came, she hustled him out the door and went to the
clinic by herself. A couple hours later, she returned to their
apartment, shivering and lighter by a few ounces that weighed as
much as a world. She never told him, never brought up the subject
of her pregnancy, and lied to him about a miscarriage when he asked
several weeks later. He'd bought it—hook, line and sinker, just
like he was supposed to. And she hated him for it, but she never
brought it up and never let on to it. This wasn't how things
were supposed to be.
    She'd stayed with him, then, though
everything in her screamed non-stop at her to get out. She wanted
to have a family, that was all she'd ever wanted, and if
Scott wasn't going to be the one to provide it for her, then she'd
find someone else who would. She was going to do it, had gotten
herself ready on the inside and started to lay out the path to a
different, real life with a different, real man, when Scott
got hit by a car. Hit by a freakin' car! She'd felt so bad for him,
he'd gotten real messed up this time with broken bones and bloody
wounds, that she’d had to change her plans and take care of him
instead. Like a baby. The irony turned her heart to flint, a heavy
stone inside her that she hefted late at night, standing over Scott
in the bed while he slept, and thought about bashing his head in
with it.
    God, she needed an aspirin.
    She rummaged through the pill bottles in the
cabinet, the rage mounting; half a dozen of the little amber
bottles later, she still couldn't find what she was looking for and
realized that it was because she wasn't thinking straight. She
already had what she was looking for right in front of her, didn't
she? Scott didn't need the pills anymore, she did. It was as simple
as that. Two tablets went down with a palmful of water drawn from
the bathroom sink. Fuck him anyway.
    The second time she'd gotten pregnant by him,
she hadn't been so quick to tell Scott about it. She knew what he'd
say; he'd say, "This is why I keep asking to use a condom," and
"Why can't we discuss this and make the decision when we're both ready," and a million other little things that she knew
were true but didn't want to admit. He was the one sticking
his penis in her; he was the one who should have to knuckle
under