Free Take This Regret by A. L. Jackson

knees went weak as he vocalized my biggest fear, and I was certain my heart would falter in my chest. He was real y going to try to take away my child. I took a shaky step back as the room began to spin. There were so many emotions swirling, consuming, but one thought overrode them al . I opened my mouth, and even though the sound barely came, I was certain he heard.
    “I hate you.”
    I covered my mouth as I rushed to the break room, hoping to hide myself away before I completely broke down. The moment I was safely behind the door, I lost it.
    Loud cries echoed through the smal room, my body convulsing, gripped with fear. I tried to steady myself against the table but fel to my knees, my legs unable to support the weight of what had just occurred. I felt as if I were drowning. Sounds came in muddled waves against my ears, and I sensed movement and knew I was not alone, though I was unable to focus on anything but the feeling of dread that coursed through my body. The pressure in my chest left me gasping, searching for air I couldn’t seem to find.
    Somebody shook me, an alarmed voice repeating,
    “Elizabeth.”
    I struggled to see the face, to hear the voice, and final y opened my eyes to find Scott kneeling in front of me. The look of concern he’d had earlier had been replaced by one of panic. His hands trembled as he held my shoulders.
    A soft hand rubbed my back as Selina’s soothing voice coaxed, “Calm down, Liz . . . Take a deep breath . . .
    Just relax.” With her words, my anxiety attack gave way to a flood of tears, and I col apsed into Scott’s arms, sobbing into his shirt.
    Selina stood and returned seconds later with a cup of water and a cool, wet cloth, pressing one against my forehead and the other to my lips. Scott helped me into a forehead and the other to my lips. Scott helped me into a chair, and I accepted the water, al owing the coolness to soothe my burning throat, though it could do nothing to soothe my soul.
    Al I could think was that I had failed my daughter.
    Selina drove me home, and Scott fol owed in my car. It was apparent I was in no condition to finish out my day of work. Selina offered to come inside, but I refused. I just needed to be alone.
    I plodded upstairs, each step sucking me deeper into despair. By the time I entered my bedroom, I was back on my knees, weeping into the carpet.
    I had no idea how much time had passed when I heard the front doorbel ring, then again. Final y, the sound of a key in the lock and the squeaking of the front door came.
    “Elizabeth?” Natalie’s voice carried from downstairs.
    This was fol owed by Lizzie’s joyful voice singing,
    “Where are you, Mommy?”
    I cried harder into the floor, thinking of how one day soon Christian would steal that joy away. Footsteps pounded against the stairs, and I could feel Natalie pause in the doorway to my room. Lizzie’s footsteps trailed close behind.
    Raising my head, I met Natalie’s face as she took in the scene, her eyes wide as she apprised the crying mess I was.
    “Please, don’t let Lizzie see me this way,” I managed to force out, my voice hoarse.
    She hesitated, clearly wishing to come to my side before nodding and stepping away. She stopped Lizzie just

    before nodding and stepping away. She stopped Lizzie just before she got to the door.
    “Lizzie, honey, your mommy isn’t feeling very wel right now. Why don’t we go downstairs and start dinner.”
    “Is she sick?” Lizzie’s voice dropped to a whisper. I could sense her trying to peer into the room, and Natalie moved to block her view.
    “Yes, sweetheart, but she’l be okay, don’t worry.” The bedroom door closed between us, and I was left with only the echo of their retreat downstairs and the anxiety that had me nailed to the floor. I wanted to get up, dry my eyes, and go to my daughter, but I knew I would be unable to stand in front of Lizzie and pretend that the life we knew had not just come to an end.
    It seemed like hours had