Abort

Abort

One of the side effects of being a housekeeper at any kind of public institution is invisibility. Housekeepers work room by room, area by area; emptying trash, sweeping and mopping floors, washing windows and keeping everything clean, but they are never really seen. Quite often important information is discussed in full view and ear shot of these people without concern because no one even notices that they are there, a scientific research facility is no exception to this rule.

Usually Bridgette paid no attention to the things she overheard; she hardly ever understood what the scientists were talking about anyway. Theories about time and space relativity, heated discussions about ratios and abstracts were nothing more than a foreign language. As a matter of fact, because a lot of the scientists were European immigrants, often what she did over hear was indeed in a foreign language. Last week’s argument between Doctors McNeil and Connors had been in English though and what they talked about did interest Bridgette quite a bit.

“I’m telling you, Bill.” Dr. McNeil said, “This could have serious ramifications! Any change of the smallest detail by a visitor into past history would change the present reality in ways that could be devastating to say the least.”

“Of course, I understand that completely, Tim.” Dr. Connors had replied softly, trying to quiet his excited colleague. “I was just hypothesizing that the temptation to right a terrible wrong done, might lead a particular time traveler astray. Can you imagine if an Israeli suddenly had the opportunity and ability to kill someone like Hitler before he instituted the Holocaust?”

“Exactly my point,” Dr. McNeil insisted, “we must always be very careful to strictly vet each traveler before they are allowed to make a time excursion and keep close tabs on everything they might have done while on their junket for possible anomalies. My God, everything in this time period could be completely changed; this life could unrecognizable as we know it.”

This life unrecognizable, completely changed into something entirely different? Suddenly, for the first time in her life, Bridgette felt a spark of hope and joy. This was exactly the thing she desired most!

“I wish I had never been born!” How many times has that phrase been repeated, sworn, shouted and cried, over the years? Thirty year old Bridgette Collins wasn’t the first to shout that at a parent, a spouse, or friend; not the first to whisper it while she cried herself to sleep at night, nor will she be the last. Bridgette now intended to be the first to do something about it.

Finishing her cleaning tasks before the two scientists ended their conference; completely unnoticed, she quietly shut the door and pushed her cleaning cart down the long hallway towards the laboratory. I will find out how this works, she thought, and I will make a little trip of my own.

It took her three months and a lot of extra overtime, but eventually she learned all of the details about the time project. What scientific knowledge she lacked was made up by quiet observation and a careful study of the manuals and machinery as she went about her normal duties, never suspected and never questioned. Being invisible definitely had its advantages!

As she stepped through the shimmering portal, her face, normally lined with terror and desperation, was instantly transformed into a serene mask. Her eyes, downcast with fear and defeat for so many years, now shone with hope and determination.

Checking her watch, she smiled, “There is still time, plenty of time!”

As she rounded the corner at the maternity wing, Bridgette came to a sudden stop. Standing in front of the viewing window was the woman Bridgette had come to despise with a deep and abiding hatred, the woman that had subjected Bridgette to a lifetime of the very worst kind of abuse; physically, mentally and emotionally. The very same woman she had tried to kill once before years from now, the same woman who had tried several times to kill her as well; her mother.

Quickly stepping back around the corner, Bridgette felt her heart drop, turmoil twisting and knotting her insides. “It can’t be,” her mind raged. She checked her watch again, “there is still plenty of time. The birth hasn’t happened yet!”

Struggling to compose herself as well as she was able, Bridgette again rounded the corner. With all the casual attitude she could muster, she stood next to the hateful woman staring at the sleeping babies.

“Oh, how darling they look.” She smiled at the woman she hated with every fiber of her being. “Which one is yours?” she asked.

“The second one from the right.” The woman fairly beamed, but yet with a slight vagueness. “That’s my little Bridgette. We are going home today.”

Bridgette’s eyes went to the second bassinet from the right. Williams, Cassandra - F. the name tag read.

The maternity nurse, reading a chart inside the viewing room, looked up and with a slight shake of her head and a frown on her face, quickly stepped out the door.

“Mrs. Collins? What are you doing here? You have been told you must not come down here.” The nurse stepped close to the woman and gripped her arm. “Come along now, I’m sure the psych ward is wondering where you are.”

With little physical resistance, the hated woman was led away. “Don’t worry, Bridgette,” she called over her shoulder to the room full of babies, “Mommy will be back to get you soon.”

How could this be? Bridgette’s mind raced. That was my mother, I know it was, but the birth hasn’t happened yet and she isn’t even pregnant. Taking a deep breath, Bridgette drew the gun from her handbag. “Wait a minute,” she called to the retreating pair.

“Yes, dear?” The nurse turned with a smile, her eyes then going wide at the sight of the gun.

“Where are you taking her?” Bridgette asked, pointing the dark gun.

“Mrs. Collins is a very sick woman.” the nurse said, still gripping the empty eyed woman’s arm, “please let me get her back to her ward before her medicine wears off.”

“The psych ward?” Bridgette asked, “She’s crazy? She's been crazy all this time?”

“Yes, dear, Mrs. Collins is a very sick woman and needs to be back where she belongs.”

“I’m not sick, you old bitch.” Margaret Collins, her eyes now clear, jerked her arm loose and turned to the nursery. “I’m going to take my baby home!”

A dawning light burst in Bridgette’s brain. “Yes, yes she does, she needs to be right where she belongs,…in hell.” Bridgette smiled as she steadied her arm and pulled the trigger. Margaret Collins was dead before she hit the floor.

The maternity nurse screamed in terror as she looked first at the fallen woman and then back to the smiling young woman holding the smoking gun. “What…what…why?” she asked.

“She knows why,” Bridgette started, then with a shimmering flash she disappeared back through time.

Thirty year old Cassandra Williams woke up in her own bed, right where she should be. After the best night’s sleep of her life, she smiled and thought, “This is going to be a wonderful day, I just know it, the first day of the rest of my life.”