Page 107 of Her Sloth

The hair on my arms stands up because I know what’s coming.

“I tried,” she says as she closes her eyes. “Hailey got pregnant from him. She always wanted to be a mother; I told her to abort it. We got into a huge fight that overshadowed everything after.”

She sucks in her lips, trying to fight the tears she was never good at fighting at all. I want to hug her. Hold her. But I don’t dare interrupt her.

“I tried to save her. That one night—we hadn’t been talking, she called me—I wasn’t fast enough. I just wasn’t—I should have never left, but I just couldn’t deal with the fact that she could love a child that came from—from⁠—”

She breaks off and rubs underneath her eyes, wiping away the tears.

“The doctors could save the baby,” she says. “The baby that was—“ Addy says, and her jaw clenches. “And she, she bled out next to me. Stabbed seven times, because she refused him access to the baby.”

I cover my mouth with my hands.

“Hailey told me she was supposed to be named after her grandmother, Annie. Begged me to take good care of her if she survives.”

Annie.

Responsibilities.

And suddenly, I am crying too, as I understand why Addy did everything she could to get away from any responsibility.

“Hailey never got to see her girl,” Addy says in a trembling voice from all the tears. “I promised her to take care of her girl. I promised her again standing here when we gave Hailey her last rest at the place she loved most.”

Addy's sobs are so bitter they make my chest clench while I feel sick to my stomach.

“I had to get Annie away,” she then says. “She would’ve been put in foster care, emergency placement; worst case, her rapist father could’ve claimed her—“ Her voice breaks off. “So I stole her. I got her out of the hospital, and smuggled her to Italy, where her grandmother lives, and takes care of her.”

At this point I am just crying with her. Never in my life have I been this emotional. I want to run away, do everything not to feel any of this. But I don’t. Because she trusts me with her story. And I will never walk out on her again, least of all because of my own discomfort.

“My father helped me,” she says, her voice turning to ice. “It was the only way I could pull it off. And it is the reason why I couldn’t get out. He knew. And he shamelessly used it. He used me in ways I will never repeat.”

My breathing flattens.

The horrors she has gone through.

I feel so bad. So bad for all the judgment I had.

Nikki was right.

And I am so stupid.

“I wanted to die,” she says. “Because every day was a reminder of all my failures. Of all the things I have lost. Of all that was taken from me. I was drowning. I am drowning. Except for those ten seconds of acceleration where nothing else matters.”

I know, I tell her in my mind.

“We planted her these poppies here,” she says and sinks to the ground, brushing over the orange blossoms next to her. “They were her favorite.”

“They are very beautiful,” I say as I slide down to the ground with my back against the sign.

A weak smile appears on her face as she turns her head to me; just a bit. Her eyes meet mine. We stare at each other for a very long time. So long, the tears on my cheeks dry, leaving the skin feeling tight.

“And then, I met you,” she says after a while. “I met you after I promised myself to never love again, because the pain of losing Hailey, of everything that happened⁠—”

Her hand wanders on mine.

“And you understood. You knew. You felt the pain of losing someone you loved yourself. You were just as fucked up as me. And then I got hope. Hope that I might not be doomed. Might not be alone⁠—“

“And I left.”