Layna

"Congratulations Layna, you're pregnant."

I stared at my doctor like he grown another head, "Excuse me?"

"Your blood work came positive for it. I'm going to schedule in for an ultrasound in the next couple of days."

I turned to look at Derek, and he looked as confused as I felt, "How is this possible?"

One of the lingering problems that had arose from my time with Timothy was that at some point he had stabbed me in the stomach, which had damaged my uterus. Because of that, the doctor had told me that the chance of getting pregnant, and keeping the baby full term was not likely.

We had experienced this once before. Around a year ago, during a routine checkup, the doctor had informed me that I was pregnant. Derek and I had been ecstatic; we never thought that we could have children, and so the news had been amazing.

It had been extremely early in the pregnancy, and I was about a month along. A couple of weeks after, I miscarried.

I had been devastated. For about a week, I couldn't even get out of bed, I had been so upset. Derek took time off work and stayed with me, talking through all the emotions that had been running through me at the time. It was hard for him too, of course it was, but we mourned together. We never told anyone about it.

"We're going to be extra careful during this pregnancy. Try to avoid anything that could stress you out, and don't overexert yourself," the doctor said, "I'll have the nurse call you to schedule an appointment."

Derek thanked him, and I just followed him out in a haze. He pulled me into an empty hallway, cupping my face in his hands, "Talk to me."

"I'm scared," I whispered, my eyes filling with tears. "I want to be excited, but I don't want to get my hopes up and end up like last time."

I looked into his green eyes, and I could see that he was just as emotional as I was. Throwing my arms around his neck, I pulled myself close to him hugging him as tightly as I could.

He held me just as tightly, kissing my temple. "Whatever happens, Layna, we're going to be together, and that's what matters. We can get through it; we can get through anything."

***

"Are you still having nightmares?" Dr. Jones asked me, a notepad perched on her lap.

"Sometimes," I said, tucking my feet under me on the large armchair in her office. "They haven't been as frequent lately, but when they do happen they are still as bad."

She nodded her head, jotting something down in her notebook. "Having you started remembering anything from these nightmares?"

I leaned my head back, staring up at the ceiling. "Sometimes I'll get little flashes of him, but I can never tell if it's something that actually happened, or just my mind making stuff up. Sometimes I wonder if he even did all those things to me."

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice gentle.

"I know that my parents would never lie to me, and I know that Derek would never lie to me, but I can't remember anything. I can't connect the guy I knew to the guy that everyone is saying he became.

It's hard to wrap my mind around it; I mean, he came into my life at such a difficult time for me and he helped me be happy again," I closed my eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling down my face. "I only have good memories with him, yet everyone around me is telling me that he wasn't this guy that I knew; that he was scary, and twisted and that he slit my throat and did all these horrible things to me, but that's not the man I knew. That's not the guy I loved."

Dr. Jones was silent for a moment, "I wanted to bring something up with you, and you're under no obligation to listen to me, but I think it may help."

"Alright," I said, lifting up my head to look at her as she spoke.

"Have you ever thought about getting in touch with Timothy?"

A shiver went through me as she said his name. "Why would I do that?"

"From what I understand, it seems like you associate Brian and Timothy as two separate people, even though they are one and the same. And that's where a lot of your turmoil is coming from; the problem is that you don't see him as one person but as two separate ones. I think that if you saw the man that he is now, you would be able to better understand the person that he actually is, and it might even give you some closure."

I leaned forward propping my elbows on my thighs as I rested my head in my hands. All the stuff she was telling me made sense, but I had no idea what to do.

To face the person that had harmed you so severely sounded crazy, and yet I found myself tempted to do just that.

"Listen I know it seems a bit...unorthodox, however I believe that it could really help you. I've had several other patients who have done similar things and they showed significant improvement of their mental state after."

That was something I needed; if I was going to be a mother in a couple of short months I needed to be at my best for my baby. And if this was something that could help, well...

"Just keep that in mind, Layna."

***

The next couple of weeks passed quickly. We went to several different doctor's appointments for the baby, and had learned that I was about sixteen weeks along. I had formed a tiny baby belly as well that Derek had been amazed by, and had taken to documenting each day to see if he could tell a difference. That had never happened with my previous pregnancy.

We had kept it a secret from everyone so far, just in case. However, it had gotten to the point where we were comfortable sharing the news. That and the fact that soon, I wouldn't be able to conceal my bump by saying I was fat.

We called up everyone close to us to share the news with them. Everyone had freaked out; they had known about the scarring of my abdomen and were amazed by the miracle my pregnancy seemed to be.

My parents had run over to my house when I called them, almost knocking down my door in their haste to see me. They were excited by the fact that they were going to be grandparents.

It was a couple days after that, when I came home with several bags filled with groceries. Derek came to the front door where I was coming in and quickly grabbed the bags from my hands. He had taken the doctors warnings to heart, and had barely let me even drink water by myself the past few weeks.

I helped Derek put away the groceries, as we chatted about our days. When almost half the bags were done, Derek's cell phone started to ring.

He pulled it out from his pocket, and looked at the caller ID. "It's my mom."

"Tell her I say hi!" I chirped, and he smiled as he sat down on the stool and answered the call.

"Hey mom, how are you?" he asked, and I blew him a kiss as I finished with the groceries. "What?" he asked, all the humor he had in his voice was gone.

I looked up in concern, and saw that he was staring at the wall blankly. "When did this happen?"

I went over to him, wrapping my arms around his waist, but he pulled away and started pacing back across the kitchen. He hung up the phone abruptly, slamming it down on the kitchen counter.

"Derek?" I asked, my voice filled with concern.

"Not now, Layna, please."

"What happened?"

"I said not now!" he yelled, and I flinched at his tone.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, tears filling my eyes. I blamed those on the pregnancy hormones.

"Fuck. I'm the one who's sorry, Layna. Fuck, I'm an ass," he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around me, and I sniffled into his chest.

"It's okay," I murmured as he stroked my hair.

"Just give me a minute to get my head straight, okay? And then we can talk."

It wasn't until later that night, when we were both lying in bed that he spoke. My back was pressed against his chest, and his arms were wrapped tightly around me. He softly kissed the back of my head before sighing, and pressing his head to my shoulder, "My dad died."

"Oh my god!" I cried, abruptly pulling away from him and sitting up. "Why wouldn't you tell me earlier?"

Tears blurred my eyes as I thought back to Derek's dad. He hadn't always spent a lot of time with us, but whenever he did he was always the nicest person I had ever interacted with.

"How did he die?" I asked Derek who lay facing the ceiling, staring up at it like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"He was drunk and was driving, and he crashed his car into a tree," he spoke in a detached voice, like he was talking about the weather, not about his dead father.

I leaned over, wrapping my arms tightly around him. "I'm so sorry," I whispered. He didn't say anything, just pulled me close to his body, tucking my head under his chin.

"I don't know how to feel," he said, his voice cracking. "He was my father; I know that, and I still love him. But then I remember all those things he did, and I hate him. I hate him so much, Layna, but I love him and its tearing me apart."

I had never heard him sound so completely and utterly lost. "What are you talking about, D?"

"My dad...my dad wasn't a nice man, Layna. He was very angry, and he liked to take that anger out on me and my mom. As I got older, I tried to get him to be angrier at me because I didn't want him hurting my mom. It worked out most of the time, and I could take his anger better then she could."

I pulled away from him once again, resting my back on the headboard and closing my eyes as his words washed over me. The reality of his words were sinking in and my heart twisted in my chest, "You never told me that he—that he hurt you," I whispered, my voice cracking.

"Layna," he said softly, gently running his thumb over my cheek.

"You were being hurt, Derek. I could have helped you—I could have done something!" I opened my eyes, searching his face. I felt like an idiot, knowing that while I grew up this had been going on next door and I had been none the wiser.

He smiled softly, his thumb still caressing my cheek. "I didn't want him to hurt you too, Layna, and he said that if I told anyone he would."

I took his hand in mine, intertwining our fingers, and placing a small kiss on his knuckles. "You went through it all alone," I whispered.

"But I wasn't alone, Layna. I had my angel with me."

I looked up at him confused, and he smoothed out my brow with his thumb. "Being with you, every day, having you in my life gave me something to look forward to. When I was younger, I had someone to be my friend, and then as we grew, you became someone that I could love."

I lunged forward, hugging him tightly. It was the only way I knew how to comfort him; even though I didn't know what to say, I wanted him to know that I was there for him. I wanted him to know that he didn't have to go through this alone. He clutched onto me, and I could feel him shaking from the weight of his emotions.

It wasn't until later, after we had both calmed down that he spoke again. "My mom wants me to go back to Toronto for my dad's funeral in two days. I agreed, and I know its selfish of me, but I want you there with me."

My head was resting on his chest, and I was drawing pattern with my finger over his stomach. "Of course I would come with you. Why would you feel selfish?" I whispered.

"I know it's hard being there for you, after everything that happened. I just don't want to put you in that stressful environment, but I don't know if I can do it alone."

"I want to come with you, Derek. I want to be there for you in every way that I can. You don't need to worry about me; I'll be fine."

I could tell that he was still uncertain, so I continued. "I'll make sure to get the okay from my doctor and from Dr. Jones, before we go."

I knew that in order for him to be reassured, he would need more than my say in the matter. He was very protective when it came to anything that had to do with my kidnapping, and I couldn't blame him. He had spent several days in turmoil while I was gone, and even though he never spoke to me about it, Tom had told me what had happened on their side the days that I had been missing. If I ever had to go through that with him...I didn't know how he had done it.

But it was a long time ago, and I was confident that going back wouldn't negatively affect me in any psychological way. Derek deserved to have someone be with him to support him through all his difficult times. He had spent too many of them alone and now, as his wife, I refused to let him to do it any longer.