At some point in your life you’re going to have the feeling and wonder: Is what I’m doing right? Well that was today, the day that Casey Weller walked into my office and told me that she had made a mistake and could she please! Please! Go back to how it was.

       She was the typical all American girl, blonde shining hair about shoulder length, honest wide blue eyes and even teeth, she had an expensive jacket thrown over her Varsity cheerleading outfit and she clasped her hands earnestly in front of her staring me straight in the eyes, appealing to me, no begging me to make everything ok again.

“I don’t want to go to hell!” she sobbed wringing her fingers nervously, tears starting up in her eyes. “My parents told me all about it and they said I’m going to hell”

Typical! I think, not only is she the all American girl she’s also the all American Christian girl and I have had enough dealings with them in the past to know that you don’t cross them.

“Well Casey” I lean forward in my chair peering at her nervous face over the pine ridge, thinking that her parents should know better then to intimidate their daughter who could go on to be home coming queen, who could live her life properly with no cause of stress or concern, she had bright prospects and it hurts me intolerably to say this but I say it far too often:

“You can’t go back, what’s done is done and you know the repercussions of such a decision at the time”

And that’s torn it, that’s put an end to the glorious morning I was having, my dog is finally house trained, my gardener is doing his job properly for once, there are no eccentric evangelists camped outside my building and then there is one golden haired child from the suburbs who ruins it all with two sentences. Her face crumples and the tears that were threatening to spill over the innocent blue orbs finally does, trailing down her cheeks as sobs rack her skinny frame.

“But you don’t understand” she hiccoughs “They’re going to disown me, they’ve already thrown me out of the house, tell me! What can I do?”

I want to say I don’t know, I want to tell her that there’s nothing I can do because that’s the truth, I’m not God, I’m not all-powerful but looking into those fever-bright eyes and casting a look over her tear-stained face I know that I can’t do it, I know that I should try to put some perspective on her life, give her some order.

“Tell them…” I pause and think for a moment, the girls face lights up a little she looks hopeful. “Tell them that there was no need for the procedure”

The girl looks puzzled so I smile encouragingly and plough on “If there was no procedure there was no problem in the first place, tell them you had nothing done”

There’s a few seconds pause in which she blinks at me, sniffling a little.

“Bu-but they won’t believe me!” she stammers, I notice her hands are still clasped across her legs, so tightly the skin across her knuckles is a pale milk colour.

“Well I will write a letter explaining it, tell them to come and see me if they don’t believe you and I will confirm your story.”

“But it’s not true” she sniffles

“But they don’t know that” I reply reaching across my desk to pluck up a piece of paper and a pen, I scrawl a quick explanation, pen down my number and address and invite them cordially to come in and speak to me, all sorted in my mind but I forget that this is an all American Christian Girl.

“But what about my soul?” she asks

I smile a little at that and reach across the table to hand her the letter all folded up and neatly enveloped.

“Honey, that’s between you and God.”


 I dreamt of a winged man with silver hair, he looked down upon me as I lay on the cold, damp bank of the vast lake and said “For every one of mine, I take three of yours!”

     I coward on the ground my arms rigidly held above my head as though this could protect me from the fury of this being, reality pulled at me and I gave into it longing to be away from this nightmare. I pulled my eyes away from the being that seemed to dominate all that I saw, I remember feeling jealous of him that he should be so high above me, that he should wield a power that held sway over me like this.

    Reality beckons, through the damp air and the cold sticky lake embankment, in the few seconds it took to open my eyes, my dream self glanced down at her blood sodden hands, long fingered pale, well manicured hands exactly like my own. Clasped between her surgeons fingers was the small, barely formed head of a baby, its skull slick with blood, its mouth open in a ghastly scream, its eyes screwed tightly shut as though in death it was still calling out for the breast  of its mother.

“Lilith” called the winged man.


    “Sleeping on the job Lily?” A light creamy voice queries and my head snaps up quickly, the dream still buzzing around my head as I peer at the short squat woman stood in my office, she beams at me happily as I stare at her, trying to put my thoughts into order.

“Late night” I tell her, my voice scratchy from sleep, I stretch my arms above my head and shake myself in my comfy computer chair trying not to rub my eyes in case my make-up smeared.

“What’s up Faye?” I ask, swivelling round in my chair until I faced the small fridge behind me.

“There is a Mr and Mrs.Weller  here to see you” she tells me, I sigh to myself and open the fridge with a click removing a full fat can of coke and cracking it open.

     No more then three hours have passed since Casey ambled from my office then there is a visit from her parents.

“They look a little to white bread to be in this sort of joint, the Mr is clutching a bible to himself like it’s a lifesaver” Faye smiles at me wiggling her eyebrows conspiratorially.

“Actually they’re here about their daughter”

I laugh as Faye winces and bares her teeth in mock pain, her eyes flicking back over her shoulder as though she expected the Weller’s to be stood right behind her.

“Ouch! Want me to send them in?”

I nod glumly and take a long swig of coke and hide the can on a shelf beneath my desk.

Faye chuckles “Alright honey, Good Luck”

      She walks out the door letting it close behind her with a barely audible click.

      I’m nervous and chastise myself for getting in to this situation in the first place, my dream is almost forgotten hovering like a grey cobweb in the back of my mind.

   I sigh and shift in my seat trying in vane to get comfortable, meeting with irate Christians isn’t the way I planned on spending my day at work, but it seemed to occur more often then usual with me.

I look up with a polite smile on my face as the couple are ushered into the room by Faye who gives me a professional nod before leaving.

     Mr. Weller is tall, lean and imposing at around six feet, grey wispy hair covers his head receding slightly at the temples, his face is lined and hard and a scowl mars his face, if all that wasn’t intimidating enough, he was wearing a vicars uniform and was staring at me with angry iron grey eyes. It was the eyes that caused me to shift a little uncomfortably in my seat. His wife was as skinny as his daughter with wiry blonde hair tied back and pinned up on the back of her head, her eyes were a dull blue with none of the spark her daughters had, she was wearing a non-descript flowery dress and a distasteful expression like she had just swallowed something extremely disgusting, the strode into my medium-sized office and sat down in the chairs opposite my desk without waiting to be asked.

I stood and offered my hand to them “Mr and Mrs Weller I’m pleased to meet you. My name is Dr. Freemont”

Both parents looked at my hand like I had scooped up something forbidding and was offering it to them, slowly I dropped the hand back to my side, wiped the polite expression off my face so I seemed devoid of emotion and sat back comfortably on my chair.

“How can I help you?”

The tall, lean and imposing Mr Weller’s eyes bored into me, shooting up sparks of anger and indignation my way.

“You can start by explaining why you murdered my unborn grand-child”

The End

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