Discovering Us Spin-off: Deliberation

TILLY

I can’t explain why I did it. The constant cutting of any part of my skin that I thought I could conceal under my clothes.

Now, I’m back home, in a room that’s been mine for most of my life. The floor-to-ceiling mirrors on the closet doors make my stomach churn.

The reflection I see now is a stranger. My skin is flawed, and it disgusts me to my very core.

I guess that’s the price I pay for getting pregnant at the tender age of eighteen…and for having a mother who stuck around just to keep up appearances.

Sometimes…sometimes I wish these men had legally adopted me so that I could at least feel like I truly belonged to them. Because that’s why she kept me, isn’t it?

To save face when she actually handed her child over to a man who already had his own family to worry about.

I have to give credit to Tyler. He let me carry his name—before he changed his own—and he’s cared for me like a father my entire life. They all have…

He says and does all the right things and looks the part, but I don’t know… I guess I just feel. I don’t belong if I did…

They would have changed my name to Henderson, right? Maybe Ballard-Henderson…that would have been a hell of a lot better than Ballard-Mason when all of my siblings have a different name.

I suppose it really is my mother’s fault that all of this happened because she had a choice back then. Just like I do, and she chose wrong. So wrong…

I thought the fall might bring new beginnings where people wouldn’t know I didn’t belong. That the snide remarks that I was dumped on two billionaires for the money would vanish.

But I guess this little life-sucking creature that decided to nestle deep within the tissue of my womb has ruined that for me. My career? Yeah, down the drain.

My figure? Yeah, that’s already softening and bloating into a fat mess. My sanity? I think that’s already surrendered to madness.

So the scars…they are hideous, but they remind me of my failure. Huge, fat failure of a human being.

One thing. The only thing my ‘fake’ fathers demanded of me was not to be sexually active and not to get pregnant. Failed both of those…didn’t I?

I might as well get ‘big fat failure’ tattooed on my forehead in red.

“Tils?”

“Yeah, Tal?”

“I can’t do the eyeliner, and now my eyes are watering because I’ve scrubbed it off like a hundred dang times.”

I laugh. Oh, the innocence she possesses.

I wish I had held onto that a little longer. Now. Shit, now I’m responsible for a tiny human.

Vitamins and drinking water. Don’t hold my bladder for too long. No horse riding, no cat litter picking.

No this, that and the other. Everything I do now is…think, baby, is it safe?…then I can proceed.

“Come sit.” I tap my stool at the small table I have set up for the makeup routine I’ve neglected for weeks now. “What was it you wanted?”

“A winged liner in black.”

“Did you remove the liner with makeup remover and a lint pad or just tissue?” I ask, already knowing that the second option is her chosen path.

Tissue is clumped within her lashes, irritating her eyes to no end. I use my product that has sat unused on the tabletop for weeks.

Carefully wiping her eyes, I make sure not to remove all of her foundation that seems to match her pale skin tone seamlessly. Unlike Ella, she has a bit of warmth to her skin.

“Remember the pads and remover. It will help your eyes out…”

“I’ll try.”

I get to work using my winter concealers to fill in any coverage I’ve removed. Then I get out my waterproof liquid liner pen and give her the desired look.

I’m unsure how long it will last, especially if our fathers notice the makeup before she steps off the stairs. Still, she looks cute, and it’s minimal because I only used thin lines to accentuate her eye in an understated way.

“There, is that okay?”

“Yes…thank you, Tils.”

She flings herself against my stomach, her arms coming around my waist so tight I think I might hurl, but she only stays for a moment before excusing herself from the room, leaving me to tend to my raw, intrusive thoughts.

I’m still in my underwear and tank top. It’s hot, and the weather has changed for the summer, but a pair of shorts and a tank top won’t do anymore.

So I cover up the unpleasant sight of my body with three-quarter length trousers and a long-sleeved opal-colored blouse. Time to face the fucking music…

Said music being my three parents that I’ve all but ignored since telling them I’m pregnant. Mom took me to the scan last week.

A whole seven days ago, bringing this parasite to seven weeks and three days now. Unfortunately, the days seem to be flying past…bringing that deadline of twenty-two weeks, our clinic’s cut-off point for abortions, closer.

I also have another deadline. Thirteen weeks. Just over five weeks from now.

If I pass that, I’ll give birth to this little…instead of passing a miniature version of a jelly baby.

“Morning.” Tyler greets me with a peck on my forehead as he heads down the hallway I just walked through.

Everyone’s at the kitchen island where we eat breakfast most mornings. Except for Ella, of course, because she refused to come home.

She is staying with Daniel, probably because she feels freer there than being repressed and locked up in this house.

“Ah, there you are. Some oats with cinnamon. Full-fat milk for the baby…” Callum offers me breakfast with the prenatal vitamin sitting like a bullet on the countertop.

I imagine loading one of the many guns that reside on the persons out in Sense, bringing it to my head and pulling… Yeah, even with my sad, sad life, I couldn’t imagine actually ending it.

I couldn’t do that to Mom, Violet, that is, or my brothers and sisters. But you’re thinking of pulling the plug on this little parasite’s life?

I wonder how getting rid will affect them? Would they be as upset as they would be if they found me dead? Do they love this…thing already?

“Thanks, Dad,” I mumble, sitting on my stool next to Asher while pretending to eat the oatmeal. Which I should probably be devouring, considering I’m starving and skipped dinner, opting to eat one cube of cheese and apple instead.

“You haven’t sorted that yet?” Asher asks as if I’ve two heads.

“The parasite is still leeching…”

“Don’t talk about the baby that way,” Callum interjects.

“It’s not a baby yet, Dad…” Callum gives me one of those looks where he obviously wants to argue with me but, for some reason, is abstaining from doing so.

Instead, he puts Asher in his place.

“Don’t talk about your niece or nephew like that, Asher.”

“She clearly doesn’t want—”

“Enough.” Zach’s voice booms from behind us.

His stance is crystal clear.

I created this life, and now it’s my duty to bring it into the world. To love, care for, and raise it for at least the next eighteen years until it’s time for college.

Actually, his graduation gifts to me practically shout it’s time to grow the hell up and move on. Two apartments. One single-bedroom near my chosen college and another, a two-bedroom, right here in town.

It’s conveniently located near Ella’s studio, smack dab in the middle of the shopping district and a stone’s throw from the local college Ella’s attending.

If that doesn’t scream ‘I’m disappointed and I disown you’… I don’t know what does.