blasts from the past ``kenneth hurst

[rainbow]

ISABELLE WHITE!
^{And it’s a sad picture, the final blow hits you
Somebody else gets what you wanted again and
You know it’s all the same, another time and place
Repeating history and you’re getting sick of it
But I believe in whatever you do
And I’ll do anything to see it through}
------------------------♥------------------------

Oomph! Isabelle White awoke to find her three year old Bethany bouncing on the bed next to her, having completed a running leap into the room and bouncing on to her mother. All of this had resulted in an abrupt jerk from sleep. Isabelle yawned, stretching her arms above her head and Bethany continued to bounce. Her daughter's voice was rattling off at high speed what she wanted to do, though the English she used was basic and she had a small speech impediment because she was only three. Isabelle smiled. "Slow down Bethie. I don't think we'll be able to do all of that. Mommy has some writing homework to do." Bethany looked disappointed but Isabelle wouldn't be swayed. "We can go to the wading pool today if you want," she said. Bethany grinned, and clapped excitedly. "Go get dressed." With the same enthusiasm the little girl always showed, she rushed from Isabelle's bedroom to the next room over.

Meanwhile Isabelle climbed form her own bed and walked to the bathroom. A nice shower would do her a lot of good. She turned the knob and the water poured from the nozzle, carefully she slipped from her pajamas into the cold air of the bathroom. Her next stop was into the water. The scalding liquid burned her skin, making the normally pale tone turn bright red. After a few more minutes she stepped out into the steamed up air. She wished, forlornly, that she could have enjoyed a longer shower but she didn't trust Bethany alone in the house for too long. For the most part she was a good kid but she was three and there fore highly likely to get into much mischief because she thought something was cool, or odd. She grabbed a towel from the bar and wrapped it around herself, crossing the hall back to her bed room. As she passed she saw Bethany on the floor of her bedroom, playing with some cheap, plastic doll that had been all Isabelle had been able to afford for last Christmas. Guilt welled in her stomach, Bethany deserved so much better.

She picked out an outfit easily, choosing a grey, turtle neck mini dress. She left her feet bare for now, and she ran a comb through her hair, leaving it wet to air dry. Who has time to blow dry it? She picked up a clip and put it in her hair so that her hair would dry in the place that she wanted it to be. Entering Bethany's room she could see that Bethany had really only gotten half dressed, or at least was dressed in a way that was not appropriate for October. "Sweet heart," she said. "Its too cold out for that." Isabelle held out a sweater and reluctantly the little girl put it on. And so the day went by. Isabelle finished up her writing assignment that was due on Monday, while Bethany ate breakfast. She printed it out quickly, storing it in a safe place where the sticky fingers of a three year old couldn't get all over it. She had her own breakfast while Bethany watched cartoons, and then she packed up her bag for the day. It was looking like they would be out for a long time. She packed them both lunch and decided at the last minute it would be a good idea to bring a towel.

*

Isabelle found herself sitting on a bench about a meter away from the wading pool. Bethany was prancing around in the pool with some little boy she had just made friends with. Issy had no idea what game they were playing but she was just glad Bethany was having fun. She had a book open on her lap, but she was only half reading it. Most of her attention was focused on the tiny girl in the wading pool. Absently she turned the page, not having absorbed a single word, and her thoughts reflected back on a certain day.

"Isabelle White?" asked a Nurse in a white uniform. Isabelle glanced up nervously, taking in the appearence of the stern looking nurse. "Yes?" she asked. "The doctor will see you now." At the time she had reflected on how ominous it had sounded. And even now remembering it, it still sounded ominous. She had stood, and followed the nurse down what was actually a short walk but had seemed to take eons for her to travel down. The nurse had showed her into an examination room and left her to wait. The doctor, who had supposedly been ready for her, didn't seem so ready anymore. But, just when she had been ready to abandon the place a doctor in a white coat had entered.

"Isabelle, right?" he asked. Isabelle had nodded, her eyes wide and on the verge of tears. Her hands rested on her stomach. "I have the results of your test," he said, speaking once more. She nodded again, too nervous to speak. "I hate to tell you this Isabelle, you being so young and all.. But the test was positive, you're pregnant."

Isabelle shook herself mentally, turning the page of her book and locking her gaze on Bethany. These memories normally didn't haunt her, and she didn't know why they were coming back to her today.

A shaking hand lifted the phone off of the receiver. One pale finger dialed the numbers which were so familiar to her. The tears rolled down her cheeks, and the arm not holding the phone was wrapped around her stomach. The phone was ringing, ringing, ringing. Then finally someone picked up. "Hello?" asked a groggy voice. "Mommy?" she asked. "Isabelle?" her mother asked, her voice alarmed. "Whats wrong?" "I fucked up Mom, I screwed up really bad." "Isabelle? What happened?" "I'm pregnant Mom," said Isabelle, her voice shaking with her sobs.

Once again the raven haired girl shook herself, trying to forget about things from the past. It couldn't be good that she was remembering things that she had tucked away so long ago. Nothing good came from rememberance.

"I have to tell you something," she said, her voice carrying across the room to the other occupant. He turned toward her, his dark gaze meeting hers. Her eyes were wide, and watery. Her cheeks were tear stained. "I'm-"

The memory cut off abruptly at the sound a familiar voice. Anger boiled up in the pit of her stomach, as she turned and saw someone she saw practically every day. Normally she could stand him, she dealt with being so close to him every day of classes but the resurgance of memories had brought back feeling of the past.

But then this was cut off as well, by wet hands shaking her. Isabelle dropped her gaze to her daughter. "Hey Bethie."

------------------------♥------------------------
tag ``kenneth hurst
word count ``1130
listening to ``taylor swift
ohohsee ``long post , hope its good for you

[/font][/blockquote]

[lil2]

I took you home, set you on the glass,

[/color]
I pulled off your w i n g s , then I l a u g h e d .
I watched a change in you, it's like you never had wings.[/right][/size][/font]

Flicking the cherry off of his cigarette with an abrupt jerk, Kenneth slowly took in a deep breath, letting the smoke lingering in the air from his past few minutes of smoking waft in through his nostrils, deep enough so that he could taste it rolling on his tongue and the walls of his mouth, almost begging for an exit. Was he listening? Yes. Letting his mouth open into a loose o-shape, he skillfully blew out smoke rings into the crisp air of autumn, watching as they made their way out of his mouth in neat shapes before they disappeared into thin air, right into nothing, now masked by the thick sunlight pouring in through his window. He was currently located in his bedroom, standing by an open window with the curtains pushed aside in a rather careless manner. It was a sunny day out, which would mean that the park would be littered with a bunch of families and obnoxious, overzealous people that didn't know the first thing about living, but insisted on being dressed up as life...

To each their own, he supposed.

He glanced over his right shoulder towards his nightstand, where his pen was making a prominent shadow against the cover of his spiral notebook that didn't hold a single sentence worth publishing. You see, he'd been experiencing a serious case of writer's black for the last week, which always cramped his style and therefore made him a tad more irritable than usual. He'd locked himself up for days on end, holed himself in here like an animal in a cage, but still nothing. As he looked out at the passerbys, he wondered if maybe it would be better for him to go out there, to become surrounded by both undiscovered genuises and well-known fools. He, himself, was a bit of both, not that he ever thought too highly of himself. But he was undoubtedly smart, his high test scores could prove that to anyone daring enough to argue his intelligence, not to be confused with application, but he was a fool when it came to other things.

He'd done his fair share of major things worth hiding in his almost four years here that would make anyone cringe, male or female, the first of which still haunted him from day to day with the presence of faces from the past, not that he would ever admit it aloud that it bothered him.

Kenneth muttered curses under his breath as he grabbed the curtains and shoved them back into place, thrusting his bedroom back into complete darkness before the sound of keys jingling rang out in the dark room, followed by hurried footsteps and then the quick click of a pen. Exiting his room, he tossed a white tanktop over his head to cover his toned, bare upper body and grabbed his black jacket, slipping his hands into the sleeves as he held the pen in his mouth. "Paper, that might help too," he muttered incoherently, as the words were muffled by the writing utensil being held in his mouth like a prize of some sort, though like trophies, it hadn't been good for much other than to lay around and take up space.

He moved into the bathroom to wash his hands almost religiously, making sure to scrub them thoroughly even though he hadn't left his place for a good dose of sunlight in what seemed like ages. Is this what writers did? Holed themselves up in one place until they finally decided to come out? It might account for the prominent facial hair, though Kenny always kept himself well-groomed. You might not think so though, by the way that he carried himself. It was almost like he didn't belong in this world, his insides so cold that he seemed like he was dead, though his pulse would give him away upon closer inspection. When did this all begin?

"I have to tell you something," she said, the normally collected Hurst now beginning to feel his palms sweaty, although it didn't necessarily have to be something bad. Maybe she just wanted to cut him loose, which would be wise, since he had been thinking about it too. This was beginning to become a little too routine for him, a little too familiar, and the girl sitting opposite from him looked like she was about to cry. That's what he saw when he dared to turn around, when he dared to question what could possibly break her like that. Oh, who was he kidding? "I'm--"

He splashed some cold water into his face as he slowly looked up from the sink, his goatee dripping wet and his dark gaze narrowed, but otherwise hollow. That was the first time she told him about it, when it was too late to do anything. He was angry, pissed off at the world and himself for what he'd done, but instead of showing that side, he'd gotten angry at her and denied being the father. For four years, he'd denied the little girl that looked so much like her mother, and his mother, and even a little bit like him. Sometimes he would walk passed her just to look at the child, as if that would convince him that it wasn't his. Unfortunately, he knew what kind of person Isabelle was and he knew that he was the father. But would he be willing to admit it and ruin his life? Hell no. He much rathered hole himself up in his room and scribble letters that he would never send, poems that he would never finish, scripts that always ended in a romeo and juliet fashion because he didn't believe in romance or happy endings.

He didn't believe in anything, and for all intents and purposes, he didn't believe that the child, Bethany White, was his.

Rubbing his scruffy, rough face against a warm, dry towel, he slowly put it back into its place and then leaned forward on his palms as they pressed against his flawless reflection, one of them now holding the pen, before backing away and moving out of the bathroom, leaving his fingerprints behind on the mirror that had been steamed up from his previous shower bright and early that day, right before his smoking session. He grabbed a folder that had been folded into two and shoved it into his back pocket, clipping his pen into one of the inner pockets of his jacket and putting the keys in his jean pocket, along with his cellphone in the other of course, before he left the place that he'd been sheltered in for so long besides the short trips from class at the university and back again.

Shoving his hands subconsciously into his pockets for cleanliness and comfort, Kenneth made his way down the cracked sidewalks and into the park. He looked around, but didn't see anything of interest, and decided to go to the wading pool. You wouldn't know it by word of mouth, but some pretty fit women played volleyball near there and sometimes it was nice to dip your feet into the water. It seemed to calm him when he was having an off day, making the hairs on the back of his neck settle into place. However, as soon as he entered the place, a volleyball came flying towards him, and because his hands were in his pockets, it took him a few seconds longer to bring his hands up to his face to shield himself from it. Good thing he had good reflexes and a high sense of paranoia to fuel him.

He ducked out of the way, getting a few giggles and an impressed quirked eyebrow from one of the ladies, which made him grin.

"Ladies, if you wanted a free headshot, all you had to do was ask," the tall, dark writer called out to the volleyball players with a signature grin on his curled lips, before his dark brown eyes settled on another presence that had been on his mind from a flashback just minutes ago. Isabelle White. He could almost feel her eyes burning into his skull, but his eyes remained neutral, not wanting to give away that he'd seen her, merely glancing passed her and then towards the water. Oh, what little games they played. And sure enough as the sun was in the sky, there was his so-called daughter, rushing towards her mother, probably sensing her shift in mood. He had noticed the book in her hands, and only for a minute did he wonder what she was reading, but he didn't open his mouth to ask. For what, another verbal battle in public where she would be utterly humiliated?

Instead, he took a seat a few feet away from her, leaning back and swinging his arm over the back, his eyes going back to the now uninhabited water. Now, this was more like it.

( LYRICS ) Change (In the House of Flies) - Deftones
( TAG ) Isabelle White
( WORD COUNT ) 1,491
( NOTES ) It's perfect, sorry for the wait =].

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[rainbow]

ISABELLE WHITE!
^{And it’s a sad picture, the final blow hits you
Somebody else gets what you wanted again and
You know it’s all the same, another time and place
Repeating history and you’re getting sick of it
But I believe in whatever you do
And I’ll do anything to see it through}
------------------------♥------------------------

"What? Isabelle White, what did you just say?" demanded her mother. By now Isabelle was in tears. "I'm so sor- sorry," Isabelle's apology caught in her throat for a moment before she managed to choke it out. "What? Isabelle, how did this happen?" Isabelle barked out a harsh laugh and in the background she heard her father sittiring, and asking who was on the phone. Her mother shushed him. "Oh c'mon Mum, you're the doctor here. You should know where babies come from," said Isabelle, her voice harsh and her tone cold. "Do not take that tone with me Isabelle." Isabelle sobbed once more, hiccuping through the phone line. "What should I do Mum?" she asked through tears. "Isabelle, you have to get rid of it. You must have an abortion." So that was the ultimatum. But then there was a scuffling sound. "Isabelle?" "Yes Dad?" "Whats going on?"

Isabelle began to cry again, "I'm pregnant, Daddy," she creid breaking into sobs again. "Belle, oh Isabelle. You have to come home. We'll purchase you some tickets for the next flight over." "I can't do that."

Isabelle brushed the memory away and glanced down at the small girl on her lap. Bethany was examining the book Issy had been "reading". The three year old held the book upside down with a puzzled look on her face. Isabelle laughed softly. "Wrong way, sweetie," she said softly in a kind tone. Bethany giggled and turned the book over. She was oblivious to the chaotic surrounding of the volleyball pit and the multitude of voices. Especially the one voice that Bethany had probably never heard before. Anger brewed in the pit of her stomach as she tried to tune the voice out, trying to ignore the memories his voice brought back.

Bethany flipped through the pages of the book, trying to find the non existant pictures it held. It was too cute, and it helped make the anger go away. It helped a lot. A little frown formed on Bethany's lips and she dropped the book onto the bench in disgust. It closed as she dropped it, and Isabelle made no effort to stuff it in her bag. It wasn't a very good book anyways. Of course before they left she would probably grab it and stuff it in her bag. For now it was all right simply sitting there on the bench. Suddenly Bethany perked up, and began peering over at a person sitting on the bench a couple feet away. "Hewwo," said Bethany, her irresistable little voice reaching over to the person that was sitting there. Issy glanced to the side and abruptly reverted her gaze back to the wading pool in front of her.

"-Pregant," she said, softly through the midst of sobs and tears. This was the hardest thing she had ever had to do. It was harder then telling her parents. She had waited though, until she was sure, dead sure. There was no doubt in her mind, it was his. She wasn't that kind of girl, not at all. In fact that time had been her first, not that she would admit that out loud. In her head she knew this would fuck up both of their lives. They were only freshmans in college. They couldn't be parents. She had plans and she was sure he did too. In her eyes he wasn't the kind of guy who would willingly restrict himself to a child so young in life. She knew where thhis would end and in her head she couldn't blame him.

Her heart was a different matter. Her heart held grudges for ages, and in her heart she would blame him. He would not be easily forgiven, if at all. She rested her hands on her stomach, her gaze rose to his face. It all depended on him and his reaction. Everything came down to this.

The memory stung white hot in her mind. It filled her with a feeling she was sick of. Squeezing her eyes shut she tightened her grip around her squirming daughter, who wanted to get out and go see the person a few feet away. Isabelle had waited for three years to hear her daughter ask why she didn't have a daddy. It hadn't happened yet and she didn't want it to happen. Mommys were supposed to have all the answers and this was one question Issy didn't have the answer to.

Bethany squirmed to pull away, but Issy didn't want to let her go. But she on the other hand she did. She wanted to make him uncomfortable without the messy conflict. She was quick to anger and her rage made her lose a sharp edged tongue. Public conflict always ended in public humiliation for herself. Therefore she would avoid it. Isabelle loosened her grip on Bethany, carefully letting the nine-months-shy-of-four-year-old move closer to the figure she was so curious. Isabelle lifted her book from the bench and flipped it open. Her gaze wasn't on the book however, she was glancing over through the corner of her eye at Bethany and the man she knew was her father.

------------------------♥------------------------
tag ``kenneth hurst
word count ``853
listening to ``sound of music
ohohsee ``shorter then last but still long

[/font][/blockquote]

[lil2]

I took you home, set you on the glass,

[/color]
I pulled off your w i n g s , then I l a u g h e d .
I watched a change in you, it's like you never had wings.[/right][/size][/font]

Kenneth had never told anyone about the possibility of having a baby with Isabelle. If he didn't believe it, why would he try to push it on anybody else? It was just this big crazy idea anyway. One that was all too true as the product of their sleepless nights stood just feet away from him in the form of a curious toddler named Bethany White. He tried not to glance at them by focusing his attention on the hot broads nearby, but even they couldn't offer him the comfort and peace of mind that he needed. No, women had gotten him into this big mess, so it was no use turning to them now. His sister, his ex-whatever, and Paige Roberts, all of whom drove him to become what he was today. Overprotective, cold, and manipulative. Or maybe he'd just turned that way himself and used them as an excuse. He wasn't sure. He just felt highly uncomfortable right now, but he couldn't give in and just leave. No, because then she would feel the satisfaction of winning, and he wasn't one to lose. At least not without a fight.

But had he gained something that he couldn't lose, not even if he tried to ignore it to the best of his abilities?

His dark gaze shifted towards the opposite bench, out of pure habit when the book's spine hit the surface and made a loud sound as it snapped close. But he was quick to realize--or maybe just remember--exactly who was sitting there. He looked up quickly, about to turn away when the little girl spoke, causing his gaze to move down to acknowledge her, something he had never done before. At least, not directly. Should he say hello? Well, this was a child, and there were people around. He didn't say hello to people, some even thought that he might be mute, so why would he do such a thing to a kid? He looked away after what seemed like hours, but it was just hardly a minute. Her face seemed to burn into his mind as he stared out into the water, the moment that marked her existence popping into his mind.

"Pregnant," he heard her say, though it was so soft that maybe he had imagined it. He stared at her in disbelief, the words not registering as he stood there, his vision blurring in and out of focus as he was lost in his thoughts (or lack thereof). "What the fuck are you talking about?" he said, feeling his lips moving in haste to form the words as his eyebrow narrowed, creating angry lines on the bridge of his nose and forehead. He broke his gaze with her and quickly collected his things, grabbing his jean jacket as he made his way to the door. He couldn't stay there after hearing something like that, it was too sudden and too wrong. She was wrong. She was lying, this was all a trick to keep him there, tied to her eternally. Well, she was going to have to find another fool to trick.

"Look, whatever happy pills you've been popping has nothing to do with me." Yes, his eyes did drift to her stomach for a moment, a bump not yet visible, before his sharp gaze snapped back up to her face. He could see how broken she was, and if he were the kind of guy that had a level head on his shoulders, he would wrap his arms around her and hold her, telling her that it was okay. But he wasn't going to lie to her. It wouldn't work out, he wasn't one to stick to anything for too long. It was better not to give her hope. Besides, maybe she'd screwed up the test and there would be no baby. Yes, that's it. "Is that all you wanted to say? Because I think we're done here." His tone was cold as he reached for the handle of the door, waiting for her to try to stop him, or not. It didn't matter, he was leaving, and he was never looking back.

Kenneth blinked a few times as his vision cleared back into the present, where some of the volleyball players had moved towards the shade and now out of his view. He removed his arm from the back of the chair, leaning forward to rest his head against his hands, rubbing his temples lightly before he looked up again with a heavy sigh. This being outside thing was being more harm than good, quite frankly. It only brought back bad memories and he didn't want anyone to see them together and start thinking things... things that weren't true. He didn't love her, that child wasn't his, and there was nothing else to say. He'd stated it perfectly a while back: they were done. More than done, really. Well-done. Almost burning, now that he looked up and noticed that the sunlight had moved, now falling on his tanned skin and making his dark gaze glimmer slightly.

His breathing had picked up its pace as he sensed another presence moving towards him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he turned his head slowly to look dead straight down at the little girl who'd snuck out of her mother's grasp and was now eyeing him curiously. It was almost as if she had never seen a man before. Was he a man anymore, after denying his own daughter? Maybe a foolish boy. A scared boy. One who shifted in his position, but didn't want to seem physically affected. So instead of reacting badly, he moved aside to allow the girl to take a seat. That is what she wanted, right? Kids always wanted what other people had.

He remembered his childhood all too well...

"Kenneth," called his father as he ran down the stairs, still clad in his pyjamas and just barely six years old as he stared down at his father with a smile on his features. He was a bit more outgoing then. "Yes, father?" He felt a hand descend on to his head, ruffling his hair slightly, to which provoked a cheeky smile from the young boy. "I want you to be extra nice to Madison today. She's been feeling a bit under the weather." A worried look appeared on little Kenny's features, but his father moved down on one knee and shook his head. "She'll be fine, she just needs her big brother to cheer her up." Little Kenny nodded firmly and rushed back upstairs to his baby sister.

The conflicted writer turned his head to acknowledge the child once more, giving her a half-smile, his face turned away from the masses and at an angle where Isabelle might not see it. "Hey, kid," he stated in a tone where one would almost expect him to reach out and shake her hand. Those were the first two words he'd ever spoke to the girl and they felt funny coming from his lips. But she was just some kid, one which Isabelle insisted on claiming that it was his. It wasn't like he felt a pull towards her... it wasn't like she had Madi's eyes... or his smile... nope, nothing like that. And just as soon as his flashback faded out of his mind, that same coldness seemed to return to him. He was like clockwork.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to talk to strangers?" Kenneth said, just loud enough for Isabelle to hear it.

( LYRICS ) Change (In the House of Flies) - Deftones
( TAG ) Isabelle White
( WORD COUNT ) 1,264
( NOTES ) Must be said: Bethany is adorable =].

[/size][/blockquote]

[rainbow]

ISABELLE WHITE!
^{And it’s a sad picture, the final blow hits you
Somebody else gets what you wanted again and
You know it’s all the same, another time and place
Repeating history and you’re getting sick of it
But I believe in whatever you do
And I’ll do anything to see it through}
------------------------♥------------------------

The words had left her mouth and it was all residing on this. So much of her life depended on what this one person's reaction was to those two simple and small words which held so much oomph. One wouldn't think two words could mean that much but in a way it was like I love you. Those words meant a lot as well not that they were applicable in this situation. She didn't love Kenneth, she never really had. They had had one drunken night, and then a friendship. Following was a half failed attempt at a relationship, and now they had this. Everything the raven haired girl had held dear was falling fast, her life, her independance, her social life, and her freedom. Everything was gone. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he demanded. The tears came to her eyes and she wrapped her arms tighter around her stomach. "What the fuck do you think I'm talking about?" she demanded in return. "What else could I be fucking talking about?"

She glared at him, the tears on cheeks glinting in the dimlight. Look, whatever happy pills you've been popping has nothing to do with me," She stared at him in disbelief. What did he think she was, and in an instant she lost all respect for him. "Were you dropped on your head as a child?" she shot at him, in her panic not really having a better comeback. Confrontation had never been her fortay. If this came down to a war of words he would win, she knew this but she would try. She would fight for everything she could. He was at the door now and she hated herself for being what she was at this moment. Before today she had been a perfectly normal teenager attending University. Now she was some blithering, pathetic idiot, and it was all his fault. "Is that all you wanted to say? Because I think we're done here." He spoke again, his words cutting her like ice, cutting her anger in half. "Its yours," she said simply.

Curiosity killed the cat after all, but the other half of that statement was that satisfaction brought it back. Isabelle hoped that Bethany just didn't get too curious and bite off more then she could chew. Issy wasn't sure she would be able to fix all of the wounds that would be caused by it. Absently she turned the page of her book. Through the corner of her eye she saw him move over a little so, presumably, Bethany could take a seat. Yet the little girl was smarter than that. Issy had raised her daughter right and though the three year old's curiosity often got the better of her, she wasn't often the type to get into danger. She caused trouble all right but trouble was a far cry from danger.

She listed to the words come out of his mouth, greeting the little girl by saying 'Hey Kid.' She kept the appearence of her gaze facing forward, trying not to let her anger take hold of her. She didn't want any huge blow up, she didn't want the conflict. "I'm Bethany," said Bethany, introducing herself in a cheery tone. Then in the classic theme of a three year old she went on by saying: "I'm Fwee." As she spoke she held up three fingers. Isabelle's anger faded away as she listened to her daughter's naive trusting of the man next to her. Isabelle had been like that once, not any more though. That Isabelle had faded away with his rejection.

"I'd like to make an appointment," said Isabelle, her voice sounding more confident than she felt. She twirled the cord of her phone around her fingers as she waited for a response. "An appointment for what?" The receptionist sounded bored. "An abort- an abortion," she finally choked out. "All right, we have an opening on Friday, at three o'clock." "That'll be fine," she said rushing the words out and knowing full well she had class that day. But her only comfort was that since Kenneth was in that class she wouldn't have to sit in that room with him. "Name?" "Isabelle White. Thank you. I have to go now though, so bye." Abruptly she hung up the phone.

And then he spoke again, insulting her parenting skills. Somehow though, she manged to take it in stride. She did not flip out and yell at him then Bethany would ask questions and Isabelle wasn't ready to answer those questions just yet. She didn't need that just yet. Bethany, however, was oblivious to the tension her mother was feeling, and she just laughed at Kenneth's comment. " 'Course silly," said Bethany. She giggled again and pointed behind her at Isabelle. "Thats my Mommy there. She's the best mommy ever."

Again Bethany giggled, her voice sounding like the chimes of bells. Isabelle sighed softly, Bethany had laid it on a little thick there, and she felt her cheeks flushing. "C'mon Bethie, leave the ni- leave the man alone," she said. "I'm sure he has other things to do." Normally her voice would have been nicer, normally she would have been more gentle. But she wasn't feeling gentle or nice right now. She wasn't in the mood. Her gaze had finally turned, resting on her little girl but glancing up at him for a single moment.

------------------------♥------------------------
tag ``kenneth hurst
word count ``896
listening to ``gossip girl and one tree hill
ohohsee ``she is isn't she

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