Abortion: A Fictional Narrative

“That’s our suspect? That scrawny looking thing?” I asked in disbelief. Nichols was next to me sipping precinct coffee. “Yep. It’s James the ex-boyfriend.” I turned to him. “Doesn’t look like the kind to burn someone,” I point out. “We found rope, matches, and gas at his dorm room.” Nichols and I stepped out and into the room. James looked up at the intrusion and followed me with his eyes as I sat down. “So James,” Nichols began, “Tell us about your relationship with Angelica Browning.” James’ hand scratched his nose and didn’t answer. I looked at Nichols. Nichols looked back. I returned my gaze to James. Skinny, with pale blond hair and light brown eyes. He looked as if a slight breeze could blow him to the next town. “James, were you angry when she refused to get an abortion?” I asked. Nichols gave me another look that suggested the thought of how dare I interrupt another interview, but James’ reaction to the question made it seem like I hit a nerve. “James? Why would you say she would ‘regret it’?” James avoided looking at me and started breathing heavily. Nichols asked if James would
I dreamt that I was the one being burned, wearing a bridesmaid’s dress. I stumbled to the bathroom and splashed some water on my face. Great now I’m fully awake. Something about Derrick’s comment about burning the dress to symbolically get rid of Linda meant something. But what? Why does that matter? Max trots into the bathroom yawning. I bend down to scratch his ears and his tail wags against my shelf which in turn knocks down the metal cross my mom gave to me when I moved out. Max yelps and darts out, which wakes Marcie who starts barking. I stare at the cross lying there on the floor. Something clicks. In Sunday School Mother Vivian would say that Hell is a fire for sinners, bringing their souls closer to God. Both girls were pregnant out of wedlock, which some religions thought a sin. Could that be our