On My Own

Is it still a songfic if it's not fanfiction???



On My Own

by Jill C.


On my own
pretending he's beside me
all alone
I walk with him till morning
without him
I feel his arms around me
and all I see is him and me
forever and forever

--from Les Miserables



On my own. I had been my whole life. Marrying Anthony was supposed to make me feel less alone. But now I was more alone than ever.

I sat on the bench at the bus stop and clutched my churning stomach. I was more emotional than sick now, but the terrible feeling was the same.

Dusk was falling. The street lamp to my left flickered on and cast its shuddering glow over the deserted street. A moment later, the hospital's emergency sign lit itself, casting angry crimson across the cityscape. Even though the hospital was a full block away, I felt like its light was swallowing me. As the building's interior had already swallowed me.


Anthony had wanted to marry me. And I had wanted him even more. He was the sort of man I had always dreamed of, the sort of man that would sweep me up and carry me away. And he had carried me away. Away from life. And prejudice. And loudly protesting parents.

"You cannot marry him!" my mother had shouted at me. "He is not Japanese; he is not Buddhist!"

I could almost hear Anthony's obstacles as they were shouted out. "She's not Catholic! She's a Heathen!"

Nothing could stop our love, though. Early one Saturday, Tony showed up on my doorstep, slid a ring onto my finger, and drove me downtown to our new apartment.


I pulled my arms tighter around my aching stomach, hoping for, then against the arrival of the bus. I wanted to go home after sitting in the emergency room for so long. I twisted my right hand in the fabric of my blouse and felt again the pang of no ring twisting around my finger.


He took it away. He took it all away. His shallowness, his misunderstanding, had taken it all away. It started the day I woke up sick. I hadn't been feeling well for a while, but I had attributed it to the stress of leaving my parents. I sat on the bathroom floor retching, waiting for Tony to come help me, for him to comfort me. I was sick again and again, and I waited for him to come.


I pulled my knees to my chest and curled into a ball on the bench. I imagined Anthony's arms around my shoulders, his warm breath murmuring my name into my hair.

"Keiko," he would whisper. Then he would go on in his broken Japanese, sighing, "I love you, I love you forever," over and over.


When Anthony finally came, he was angry. I stood hunched over the sink swilling out my mouth. He came over and wrapped his arms around my waist. I thought he was comforting, but then he laid his hands on my lightly puffy stomach and growled, "You're pregnant."


"No," I choked. I was a virgin. Tony and I hadn't been together yet. He was a devout enough Catholic to insist on waiting.


"You little slut," he hissed, "No wonder you wanted to get married; you wanted me to cover up your little mistake, huh?"

"No, Tony, no," I gasped, "no."

"Such a slut," he spat. Anthony left the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

I pressed my forehead harder into my knees as the tears began to leak from the corners of my eyes. My imagined Tony began to dissolve, the warmth of his arms slowly fading from around my trembling shoulders.

"No, Tony, please, no," I whimpered. I wasn't sure if I was still trying to prove him wrong or if I was asking him to stay.


Anthony left. He pulled the ring off of my finger and left. The phone rang off the hook. My parents yelling at me, Tony's parents yelling at him. My head was too foggy to care. I was even sicker now. I had been steadily gaining weight before, but now my stomach pulled inwards, going from slightly convex to quite concave in just a few days. Bruises bloomed on my arms, and I could hardly keep any food down. I was desperate and alone.


The bus finally arrived, casting its grainy headlight glow over my pitiful form. I struggled to my feet and climbed the few steps to the bus's interior. I took the first empty seat and leaned my slightly clammy forehead against the window.

Leukemia. The tests had said leukemia. I needed medicine. And surgery. And money. And a home. With a family. But I was on my own.

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And that's that!! I think it's a little on the cliche side, but I suppose it works. Opinions, please?