Silhouette and Silence: An Abortion Tale

Krista found herself devastated. She sat alone in the homeless shelter dwelling over all that she had lost, shivering at the November air that seeped through the cracks and her thin, dirty, but pricey jacket. She had been framed. Her life was now in shambles. All that was once hers was gone. She had been a professional businesswoman with a six-figure paycheck and benefits. No, she hadn’t had a family, having grown up in the foster system, but she had, had a charming successful fiancé and a bright future. She had had admiration and respect. Now, with one foul accusation her reputation was smeared, her assets gone by association with the true money launderer, and the backs of her friends was the most she could think to ever see again.

She thought back to last September. Janelle, the identical twin she had never known who had been adopted when they were babies, separating them for 31 years, had been looking into her adoptive past and sought her out. Janelle’s adoptive parents had passed away in the past few years and it had prompted a deeper search. They had exchanged a few emails, but she had never seen her in person. At the time, Krista had thought that other than Janelle having had a family, her own life had been so much better. Janelle had just opened a small bookshop in Michigan, had a nice middle-class home, and was looking into adopting a child, herself. Now Krista had nothing to do but envy this so-called sister and wonder what her life was like in her comfortable little home tonight. She thought of giving her the call she hadn’t in her last few exceptionally busy months. Her life was perfect, she didn’t want to know about some sister who had been adopted while she was left alone in the bitter relentless system. But now, the thought seemed better than ever. The one hundred dollars which she may have previously blown on a pair of shoes now burned in her pocket.

Krista rolled off of the bare bunk just after dawn, and careful not to disturb those sleeping around her, slipped into the morning on a trek to the bus station. The ride left a hollow hunger inside her for more than just food. A fear began growing inside her. She had not been incredibly receptive to Janelle and could not anticipate her wanting to share her wealth now.

The bookshop was quaint. It looked warm through the frosty windows. She saw the silhouette of a face flash before the candlelight and reach out to flip the sign to closed. The shoulders drooped lightly in tiredness at the end of the day.

“What right does she have to be so tired,” she felt the illogical urge to speak. The pain inside her, the loss, the shame and abandonment all left the bitterest of tastes in her mouth. As if allowing her heart to glaze over, a shell of ice begun to form something much closer to her spirit than the brisk air beneath her skin, almost by necessity. The years of loneliness that dominated for so long had finally seemed to be making way for a small light. That light had been crushed and left her alone.

But there she was, this twin. She had lived loved all her life. She’d had her chance to build up a life with all sorts of support, while Krista had to hurt and sweat for it alone. And now the only thing she could claim to lose was the family Krista had never even had the chance to taste. Why couldn’t she have been the twin who’d been chosen? Was she such a burdensome child? Was she always so hated? She should have been the one to have some semblance of security. Instead she was half naked in the ice. No one could have even told the difference between them if they had taken her. They were identical after all. No one would tell the difference. A hot, hesitant thought curdled within her otherwise frozen stomach. No one would know the difference. It was her right. It had been taken from her. Now it was her turn for a chance of a life. Her turn for a glimpse of that candlelight. She was sick of the night. Janelle moved towards a backroom of the shop. With a quick glance, Krista moved across the street and slipped in the front door which had not yet been locked. There was no bell and even if there had been, she wouldn’t have heard a thing but her beating heart. Approaching the counter she caught sight of a letter opener. With the stammering bite of lava in her veins she reached out and tensed around it. This wasn’t her fault, it had been done to her, she had just as much right to live as her sister. Silently stepping into the back room, she met Janelle’s back. For a moment she paused. Over Janelle’s shoulder she could tell she was staring intently at a document. A drizzle of pain leaked down her windpipe and through her stomach, threatening to close around the small spark of life she could sense within her. In that moment she saw Janell’s back tense and her head slowly raise.

In a split second, the bitter fear clasped through everything Krista was as if time threatened to continue on without her if she couldn’t cling to some sort of control. The hair of her crown tingled and sent lightning through her spine and into her planted feet. Desperate not to let the last of her life be gone forever; she lunged forward and stuck the letter opener between Janelle’s ribs to the left of her spine. Janelle Let out a gasp and crumpled, hitting the front of her head on the counter as she went.

Janelle was still. Krista stared at the back of the head so much like her own. She couldn’t see Janelle’s face. She didn’t need to; she knew what she looked like. Just like her. The letter opener fell from her grasp in a stiff release. She let in a deep whistle of air and wiped her hand on a towel nearby.

A knock sounded on the front door of the book shop causing Krista to jump. She dropped out of her jacket, smoothed back her hair and walked to the front.

“Hello Janelle,” an old woman smiled warmly as she slipped into the door, “I’m glad I caught you, I just wanted to give you this plate of cookies to take home with you.”

Krista smelled the small scent of a homey warmth and lifted her eyes to meet the woman with a warm smile, “I will enjoy these so much. Thank you.”

“Oh don’t you worry dearie. Now don’t you give up on making yourself friends here. Give it some time. And don’t forget old Mrs. McMillin is always next door if you need me.”

“I won’t, thank you Mrs. McMillin.”

Kristina buried the body. And then she lived.