He became very ugly. He was scared, but so was I. There was screaming and shouting, blaming and crying.
"Abort that thing!" he shouted in disgust.
" 'That thing' here happened to be YOUR child, Ingmar," I touched my belly protectively.
"I did not sign up for that. I did not want to be a parent. If you do, have it your own way!"
"You son of a bitch. You won't man up and be responsible for this? What about us?"
"I am being responsible right now and I am telling you... TO... ABORT... IT !!" He emphasized the last words.
I was appalled. I barely know this person standing in front of me. He did not offer any words of comfort and he spoke dismissively. Son on a bitch.
"I see, I see..." I said, inhaling the cigarette deep, trying to regain my composure and whatever left of my dignity. "I regret the day that I met you. You've got a dick but that is all you are, a dick head. Don't let me see you again, don't ever contact me."
I loathed Ingmar from the depths of my soul. He had torn it apart. There was never love. We stayed together not because of love, but because of the fear of losing each other. Now, it was immense hatred until a point I felt that I needed to throw up.