The Aborted

The Aborted

The character is aging in her late 70s. She is retired from being a public defender and a judge.

The pass is echoing and surfacing. When she was in high school she had an abortion.  

She was a high achiver in High School, a good girl. Her mother did not want to see her daughter 's reputation tarnished. Her boyfriend 's mother was a nurse and assisted in helping with the abortion.

The character like other women that chose abortions because they felt like having a child would ruin their life. 

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(Setting: A dimly lit study, bookshelves line the walls. ELIZABETH, a distinguished woman in her late 70s, sits in a worn armchair. Moonlight streams through the window, casting long shadows. She holds a framed photo – a younger ELIZABETH, beaming in her high school graduation gown. Her voice trembles slightly.)

ELIZABETH: Seventy-eight years. Seventy-eight. Feels like yesterday I was walking across that stage, diploma clutched tight, the whole world stretched out before me. "Valedictorian," they called me. Elizabeth, the good girl. The one with a future brighter than the sun. (A bitter laugh escapes her lips) Funny how life throws you a curveball, isn't it?

(She sets the photo down, a tear rolling down her cheek. She reaches for a glass of water, takes a sip, then continues.)

The whispers started that summer. Nervous giggles between girls in the locker room. A knowing look from Coach Davies. I was sick, constantly nauseated, exhausted. Stupid teenage body betraying me at the worst possible time. David didn't understand at first. Just a scared boy, really. But his mother… bless her soul… she knew. A nurse, with a knowing glint in her eye and a hand that held mine a little too tight.

(She closes her eyes, a wave of emotion washing over her.)

Mother wouldn't have understood. Not a chance. Her dreams for me were as pristine as the white picket fence around our house. College, a good marriage, a picture-perfect life. An abortion? Scandal. Ruin. The whispers wouldn't just follow me – they'd engulf our entire family. So, I swallowed my fear, my hope for a future with David, and let them take it all away. A back-alley clinic, the sterile smell of disinfectant, a cold hand clutching mine.

(She opens her eyes, a hard glint replacing the sadness.)

I wasn't the only one, you know. There were others. Smart girls, ambitious girls, with futures as bright as mine. Sacrificed on the altar of societal expectations. We carried the burden, the guilt, the silent scream of what could have been.

(She picks up the photo again, tracing the younger Elizabeth's face with a wrinkled finger.)

Look at you, Elizabeth. The world was yours. Did I make the right choice? Who knows? But I built a life. A good life. Career, accolades, respect. But sometimes, in the quiet of the night, the ghost of that summer whispers back. A life unlived, a path not taken. A tiny hand I never held.