Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 15455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 77(@200wpm)___ 62(@250wpm)___ 52(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 77(@200wpm)___ 62(@250wpm)___ 52(@300wpm)
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
Emilia
I stare at the stick lying on the sink in front of me, my body feeling numb to the core.
My pupils dilate, and my heart begins to throb in my chest.
It’s as if the walls of this grimy bathroom are caving in on me. Like the ground underneath my feet split open and threatens to devour me whole.
Two lines.
That’s all it takes to destroy my world.
What I thought was just a bloated feeling these past few weeks and nausea from eating some bad food turns out to be a whole different kind of thing. A child … growing inside me.
I plant my hand against my belly and touch my skin, suddenly feeling cold to the bone. I gaze up at the girl in the mirror, the girl whose eyes fill with tears.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
It was just supposed to be a one-time thing.
I’m only nineteen. How am I supposed to raise a child?
“Emilia! Get down here. Dinner’s ready,” my mom’s shrill voice pulls me from my thoughts.
I swallow and rub away the tears, trying not to think about the human growing inside me while I turn and make my way downstairs.
My mother is already sitting at the table, throwing sloppy, hastily made stew into a bowl before she sits down to eat without waiting for me.
She gazes up when I quietly sit down and grab the spoon.
“Kinda late, don’t you think?” she says.
“Sorry,” I mutter, my voice mousy. Quiet. Like I’m supposed to be around her.
“You’d better be grateful for that food,” she growls, slurping the stew like it’s her last meal.
I nod as I pour some into a bowl. “I am. Thank you.”
She gazes up at me again, her eyes searching my face like she’s trying to find the lie.
“Your face is red,” she mutters.
I stop and look down at the stew, which smells so nice even though I know she can’t cook. Any food is better than none.
“Have you been crying?” she asks with a condescending tone.
“No, no,” I say, laughing it off. “The water was just hot.”
She puts down her spoon and stares at me. “You have been crying.”
I don’t know what to say. “I … I…”
She slams her fist onto the table, and I jolt up and down in my seat. “Don’t lie to me!” She points at me like I’m a criminal in need of punishment. “I see the tearstains on your face.”
She pauses, waiting for me to give her a reason, but I don’t want to give them to her.
“Tell me why,” she says through gritted teeth. “Is it because of that fucker Dean?”
I quickly shake my head.
“You know it’s thanks to him we have food on the table right now,” she adds, taking another bite with her spoon.
I clutch myself, staring at the food. “I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do. You’re crying your eyes up there, and for what? It’s not like he’s going to see those tears.” She takes another big bite. “What do you even want? You want a hug? You know they don’t fix anything.”
“I’m fine,” I say, rubbing my belly with my hand.
“I give you food. Clothes. A roof over your head,” she mutters. “It’s about time you showed a little g—”
Suddenly, she stops eating. Her eyes travel down to my hands.
And it’s as if the blood leaves her skin.
Oh God.
She stands.
I do too.
We stare at each other for a moment. Then she rushes upstairs before I can.
“No! Mom, wait!” I scream as I try to catch up with her.
Too late. She’s already opened the bathroom door and ran inside faster than I could chase her upstairs. Her hand clutches the stick, almost breaking it in two as she glares at me, her eyes almost spewing fire.
“You’re pregnant?!”
“I only just found out,” I mutter.
“I don’t fucking care!” she screams. “I told you not to get pregnant!” She throws the stick at me. “What are we supposed to do now, huh?”
“I don’t know,” I say, tears welling up in my eyes.
“You’re going to cost me everything I ever worked for!” Her face turns red from the screaming.
Redder than mine ever was, despite crying my eyes out only moments ago.
“A baby? Really?” she says. “You think I have the money to feed another one?”
“Can’t you help me?” I ask. “We can think of something, right?”
“Help?” she screeches, shaking her head. “I’ve helped you so goddamn much already.” She picks up a piece of my clothing and throws it at me. “Every fucking time you fuck up, I have to clean up the mess.”
“Mom…”
“No, I’m done,” she yells, picking up more dirty pieces and throwing them all at me. “I’m done helping you, I’m done with teaching you, I’m done with everything!”
“Please.” My whole body is shaking. “Don’t do this.”
“Get out,” she says, her low tone completely devoid of any emotion.