Chapter 15 - Confrontation in Orange
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Two weeks later, I was fully recovered and discharged from the hospital. Dressed in a comfortable linen dress, accompanied by my father and his personal security detail, I walked into the visitor center of the federal detention facility.
I sat behind the thick glass panel and waited.
A moment later, the heavy metal door clicked open, and Carter was led inside by a guard. He looked terrible. He had lost weight, dark circles ringed his hollow eyes, and his hands were cuffed to a chain around his waist.
When he saw me sitting there—healthy, glowing, and holding my bump—his eyes flashed with a pathetic mixture of anger and desperation.
He grabbed the telephone receiver on his side of the glass. I picked up mine slowly.
“Sarah!” Carter blurted out, his voice cracked and desperate. “Sarah, please! You have to tell your father to drop these ridiculous charges! They’re treating me like a terrorist in here!”
I looked at him calmly, feeling absolutely nothing. No anger. No fear. Just profound pity for the small, cruel boy he truly was.
“You left me to bleed on the floor, Carter,” I said smoothly into the receiver. “You destroyed my phone while I begged for help. You told me I wasn't going to win a damn thing.”
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“I was angry! I wasn't thinking straight!” Carter pleaded, tears filling his eyes. “My mother… she pushed me! It was her idea! Sarah, please, I’m the father of your child! You can’t leave me in here!”
“You are not a father,” I replied, my voice steady as stone. “A father protects. You are just a biological mistake I am currently wiping from my life.”
