Weeks later, I was in my bathroom, wishing I had looked back.
I stared at the paper in my hands. The words Congratulations, you're eight weeks gone. I must have read it at least a hundred times since leaving the hospital this morning. I was pregnant. Twenty years old. No degree. No job security. No money.
No clue who the father really was.
All I had was a vague memory of a night that started with laughter and ended in a tangle of sheets and mystery. Z...
I was curled up in my room, all the windows shut and curtains drawn, when my parents found out. My mom noticed the trash bag filled with the test boxes I took yesterday. She didn't say a word, just handed it to my dad, and that was enough.
We didn't even make it past dinner before it exploded.
"You're pregnant?" my dad asked, bursting into my room like a thief was hiding in sight. Pastor Elijah David, the man who preached fire and brimstone on Sunday mornings.
I nodded, feeling the heat crawl up my neck.
"Tell me it's not true," he said again, louder this time.
I bowed my head in shame. I couldn't bring myself to face them, much less answer their questions. Wrapping my arms around my belly, I silently cried.
"Who's the father?" He asked. Scarily calmly this time. "It's not too late, we can get him to marry you - do things the right way!"
I choked up tears. Oh god. It was now starting to dawn on me just how badly I fucked up.
Before I could muster a reply, Dad scoffed bitterly. "Of course, you don't know the father, do you?" He folded his fists by his side and drew in a sharp breath. "What more was I to expect from a slut."
I froze. Those words, coming from his mouth, make me weak to the knees. I wanted to yell back, say I'm not a slut. But what use would that be? He was right. I gave my virginity away on a drunken night to a man I knew nothing about. I was just one day away from being a slut.
"Elijah!" Mom snapped at him, raising her voice for the first time that night.
"Don't speak to me, woman! This wouldn't have been happening if you'd trained your daughter right... To think I've been bringing up a cheap whore all these years."
And just like that, Mom was silent again. Never taking my side... as usual.
"Jesus Christ, Lia, what were you thinking?" He yelled, slamming his fists into the wall in anger. Even with my head bowed low, I could see the veins popping from his forehead.
I flinched, backing up in fear and shame. "Dad, I'm sorry. It was a mistake-"
The words barely left my mouth when Dad smashed a vase on the floor. Sending the pieces flying everywhere.
"A mistake? A mistake? You call this a mistake?" He pointed at my belly, looking at it in disgust as if it wasn't his grandkids that were in there. "You need to get rid of it."
"I tried," I whispered, voice shaking with guilt for my actions. "I… I tried to fix it. But I'm sixteen weeks gone. The doctor said an abortion would be dangerous."
My mother gasped softly, hand flying to her chest. My father's face hardened.
"I can't get rid of them," I said again, more firmly this time. "I'm going to keep the babies."
"Them?... Babies?" he bellowed. "You're carrying two bastards inside you?"
I flinched, closing my eyes as if it would make the pain sting less.
"How will I face the church knowing my daughter is practicing everything I preach against?"
"It was just one mistake," I murmured.
"One mistake that has ruined your life!" he spat. "What about college? What about your dream of becoming an engineer?"
I blinked back tears, clenching my fists. "Your dream. Not mine! I never wanted to study engineering- you forced me."
He laughed coldly, staring at me cruelly. "Yeah? And what did you want? To be pregnant at twenty with twins for a man whose name you don't even know?"
The silence that followed was sharp. My mother stood frozen, lips trembling, but she didn't speak. Loyalty or fear, I couldn't tell which one kept her quiet.
Dad disappeared into his room. A few minutes later, he came back and threw a thick bundle of cash at me.
"Take it and leave. Get out of this house. And never come back."
"Please, Elijah—" my mother finally begged, grabbing his arm.
"No. I won't have sin rotting under my roof. She made her choice."
I didn't fight. I didn't argue. I couldn't. I scooped up the cash, stuffed it into my bag with trembling hands, and walked out the front door with tears streaming down my face.
I found myself walking through the heavy rain in the dead of night. Going to the only place I knew they would take me in without question.
Emily opened her apartment door in her favorite mismatched pajamas, her face falling when she saw mine. No words. Just a hug. She held me for what felt like hours while I cried into her shoulder.
"What happened?" She whispered, pulling me into the warmth of her home.
"I'm pregnant." I stared at the floor, blinking my tears away. "Eight weeks gone with twins."
"Oh, Lia." Em pulled me back into her embrace and held me as I cried my heart out. "It's gonna be okay." She kept whispering to me.
From that night on, she became my person - my family.
I tried to stay in college for another semester, but I couldn't keep up. Tuition was overdue, I was constantly sick, and exhaustion clung to my bones. I had to drop out. I hate to admit it now, but part of that decision came from the guilt and embarrassment I felt for my actions. I was now judged and marked as the girl who got herself pregnant.
No one looked at me the same way.
It shouldn't have bothered me, but it did.
Instead, I took on freelance illustration gigs online. Drawing had always been my secret escape, but now it became my lifeline. I spent hours sketching, painting, and accepting whatever commissions came my way. Children's book covers, wedding invites, fantasy characters, anything that paid.
Emily picked up extra shifts at the bookstore. We sold our clothes, furniture, and anything valuable we didn't need but could bring in cash. We pooled what we had and moved to a different city. Got an apartment in a place free of judgment and pitiful eyes. The apartment was barely held together, but it was ours. And slowly, painfully, we survived.
I buried my dreams. The ones I never had the courage to say out loud. I stopped thinking about travel, about falling in love, about creating something just for me. Life had pushed me in another direction, and I had come to terms with that.