FicWad

Gillette took me through the streets and to the small doctor's office that wasn't at all far from Cutler's house. Once we reached the office, Gillette tapped the door and stepped inside. He brought me straight to the doctor. Luckily, this doctor was not the creepy old man I had seen before. This man was about Cutler's age (oh god, why did I have to compare everything and everyone to Cutler?) and was tall with dark hair and intelligent dark eyes. He seemed very trustworthy unlike the previous doctor.

Laying me down on the bed nearest to the door, he went over and spoke some whispered words to the doctor. I didn't know what he was telling the doctor, but I was too tired and exhausted to really care. That was rather strange. I hadn't been doing anything except for sleeping the last twenty-four hours and yet, I was thoroughly exhausted and helpless.

After just a few minutes, Gillette came back over to me. He gave me a fond look and said, "Dr. George is going to examine you. He'll figure out what's wrong with you and then make you feel better." I highly doubted I was ever going to feel better, but I just shrugged at Gillette. He gave me a pat on the shoulder and then disappeared out the door.

Now that I was left alone with the doctor, I was starting to feel a tiny bit nervous. Dr. George came over to me and knelt next to the bed so we were eye to eye. I appreciated that. I hated it when people towered over you and made you feel inferior. Dr. George looked into my eyes with dark green ones that reminded me the slightest bit of James. God, how I missed him.

"Miss Cook, I would like to inspect you and perhaps perform a few procedures to figure out what ails you," Dr. George said rather formally. "In order to do this, I will have to have a lot of cooperation from you. What do you think about taking this? It will knock you out into a temporary sleep so I can examine you easily and you won't feel at all uncomfortable."

I looked at the small glass of water Dr. George was holding. It reminded me a lot of the water that Ian used to make me drink that would send me into hours of undisturbed slumber. Perhaps that was what I wanted. You know, to fall into a very long, undisturbed sleep? After all, I had just been thinking about how I was so very tired. Suddenly, I reached a decision.

"Yes, I'll take it," I nodded without hesitation. I took the glass from the doctor and gulped down the water. Once every drop was gone, I leaned against the headboard and took a deep breath. Already, I could feel my body relaxing. My eyelids felt heavy and were being dragged down. With a wide yawn, my head hit the pillow and I fell into a deep, drugged slumber.

I was sitting on an ornate chair with intricate burgundy designs upon it. The ceiling of the room I was in was very high and domed. The carpet was an emerald green and a large fireplace crackled across from me. A little table with tea and tarts was sitting to my right. A few beautiful paintings were hung on the walls. It was like I was in a much fancier version of Cutler's office.

Wanting to figure out where I was, I blinked and peered around for any sign of life. I saw absolutely nothing besides for the fire dancing before me. Despite these beautiful accommodations, I wasn't happy here. All the wealth and beauty in the world meant nothing if you had no one to share it with. Feeling sad, I went to sit before the fire.

The heat from the flames warmed my skin and hypnotized me as I watched the flames dancing up and down. It was so beautiful and yet so deadly at the same time. Wanting a taste of those flames, I leaned towards them. The enticing flames licked around my body and quickly swallowed me up. Surprisingly enough, it didn't hurt being surrounded in fire.

In a flash of light, I found myself in a different room. This one was cold, dark and uninviting. The walls and floor were made of some kind of silver metal. And everything was upsidown. Wait, what? Why was it like that? Blinking, I stared around me and suddenly realized I was hanging from the ceiling by my feet. God, I hated this. Why was I hanging?

The only door to this dungeon-like room opened and a figure with dark, greasy hair stepped inside. He looked familiar. Much too familiar. Oh my god, it was Ian! He was smiling at me as he pulled a long, sharp knife from his pocket. Approaching me, he asked, "Come again, Miss Cook? I knew I hadn't seen the last of you. What are you going to do now that your Cutler isn't here to save you anymore, hm? There's nobody for you to cry to for help. No one will here your cries."

Ian grabbed the knife and brought it up to my eyes. I tried to flinch away from it, but all that did was send my body swinging dangerously close to it. Ian chuckled at my cries and used the knife to trace the round curves of my breasts. He pressed the tip against one nipple and asked contemplatively, "Now what should I cut off first..."

"Miss Cook? Miss Cook, please wake up!" a distant voice said, snatching me away from Ian and sending me barreling headfirst back into reality. I woke panting and sweating all over. When I realized I was sitting in a bed and not hanging from the ceiling, I sighed with relief and tried to wipe the beads of sweat off my forehead and calm my racing heart.

"Thank god you're alright!" Dr. George said with a sigh. Blinking, I looked over at him, unable to agree. Perhaps I should've just stayed in that dream. If I had, I would've joined Cutler in the realm of the dead a little sooner than later. Feeling like I should at least say something, I searched for words and murmured, "It was just a bad dream, that's all."

"Oh, that explains it," Dr. George said with a nod. Remembering why I was even here in the first place, I blinked up at him and asked, "So did you figure out what was wrong with me?" I thought I probably just had an either really bad case of depression or a broken heart. Of course, the latter isn't exactly a disease though. It's more of a condition.

"Yes, I did figure out what it is," Dr. George said with a nod. I waited for him to speak, but he did not. Feeling a bit frustrated, I asked, "So can I go then? I have a funeral to go to." Dr. George nodded and replied, "Yes, you may go to the funeral. But you will have to come back here eventually. You see, you're pregnant, Miss Cook."

I had already started getting out of bed, but when I heard his words, I fell limply back against the headboard. Not thinking I had heard him right, I gasped, "W-what did you say exactly?" My heart thrummed loudly in my ear and I felt rather strange. Pregnant? But was it possible? I supposed it was. I had bled a few months ago, but hadn't for the last two months in a row.

"I said you're pregnant," Dr. George confirmed. "By the looks of it, you're about three months pregnant. You may go home, but make sure you come to me if you feel anything going wrong. Remember you're not just living for yourself anymore. You're having a child. Make sure you take care of it." Dr. George gave me a meaningful look. I guess he knew about my impulsiveness.

I nodded and stood up a bit weakly, still having a hard time believing this news. This thought had never occurred to me before, but now, it made lots of sense. Why else would I be throwing up so much and feel so tired all the time? As I stumbled towards the door, Dr. George called out after me, "Would you like some help getting home? I'm sure your husband will be thrilled to know the news."

Husband? I looked at Dr. George blankly for a moment and replied, "I don't have a husband." Looking caught off guard, Dr. George replied, "Oh...I see. Well then, I'm sure the man you've been courting will be happy to hear of the news then." Dr. George looked quite awkward as he said all this. I figured he was one of those people all against sex before marriage.

Not in the mood to play games, I said blankly, "He's dead." Dr. George looked even more awkward. He opened and closed his mouth, trying to figure out something to say. He failed and eventually stammer, "I'm sorry. My condolence, Miss Cook." I didn't even hear those words. I was already out the door and into the street. I was thinking about Cutler and the baby within me.

So what now? I couldn't raise a baby on my own. At least, I didn't think I could. If only Cutler were still alive. Then we would've had the baby together like we should have. To be honest, I might even be a bit of a danger to the baby. Ever since Cutler had died, I had changed. I was very unpredictable. You never knew what I was going to say or do next.

I went back home that day and found that the house had been cleared of every weapon. Gillette must've come back and cleaned up the house while I was at the doctor's. His intentions were nice, but I really didn't think he had any right to take my knives and other objects away from me. Okay, I suppose I was lucky not to be locked up in a mental place for my cutting, but still.

The next six months of my life did not go well at all. Because I was drunk most of those months, I don't quite remember what happened, so I guess I'll just have to summarize it for you. After another week of living at Cutler's house, I finally decided it was time to move. I went to Gillette and asked for help in selling the house. Gillette, of course, said yes.

Unfortunately, selling a home as large and fancy as Cutler's is not the easiest thing to do. It took ages to sell the house. Finally, two and a half months later, a rich old man and his wife bought it. I left everything that I owned in that house besides for my clothes, my ring, and my letter. Everything else could be forgotten. I would leave it behind and thus leave my life with Cutler behind.

Of course, that all sounds like a good plan, but it didn't really turn out that way. Cutler stayed in my life and in my heart no matter what I did to get him out. He was too much a part of me and now that I thought about it, there was still some of him in me. I hadn't thought much of the baby to be honest. I was mainly just trying to get over my grief.

During the first month was Cutler's funeral. That had to be the worst day of my life. Gillette made the mistake of holding it on a rainy evening. A small group of lieutenants and I attended. To be honest, not that many people liked Cutler. He had no friends and I was pretty much the only one he had bothered to let into his life. Besides for me, he liked to keep himself closed and stiff.

I ended up crying all during the funeral. I didn't know what anyone was saying because I was too busy drowning in my own sorrow. The rain splatted down on his grave and on his coffin as it was lowered into the ground. I remembered the way those beautiful blue eyes were now blank and lifeless and the way Cutler's face was all cut up and scarred. I cried even harder.

By the time the funeral ended, I was a mess of tears. Unable to get home by myself, I had to have Gillette escort me back to my home. My new home was pretty much a little shack. It had one room, was rather dingy, and didn't smell too wonderful. Gillette had been so taken back by my living quarters that he even offered me a room at his home. Obviously, I refused.

So many times I thought about dying. So many times I thought about ending my life. But every single time those thoughts crossed my head, I would always remember the baby at the last moment. Even though I didn't wish to live, it still did. Besides, it was a little bit of Cutler and me combined. I hoped so much that it had Cutler's eyes. I loved those eyes.

Now that I was sure that I was going to try and survive the next six months of my pregnancy, I found I needed something to hold onto. Unfortunately, nothing could be found. I didn't let people into my life anymore. And to be honest, I never left the house unless I had to. So I turned to the only thing that I could use as a numbing device: alcohol.