One day, during gym class, the teacher made us run, but I struggled to lift my legs.I pushed myself, but the nausea was unbearable.Then something happened that had never occurred before: I collapsed to the floor, losing consciousness.
When I was about thirteen, a particular movie left a lasting impression on me.It told the story of a young girl who fainted and woke up in a hospital, only to learn that she had an inoperable brain tumor.In her final months, she chased after her dreams.Ultimately, she passed away, but she was surrounded by love, and everyone mourned her loss.
I found myself wondering, if I were to face something similar, would my parents rediscover their love for me?Was I seeking sympathy?
I regained consciousness on the gym floor, with two nurses hovering over me.The rest of the crowd stood in clusters, murmuring about the incident.The overhead light was painfully bright, making it difficult for me to open my eyes.
“How are you feeling?”a male voice inquired, but I had no desire to answer.I simply didn't care.
“We need to get you to the hospital; you may have a head injury,” the female nurse added.I expected them to use a stretcher, as portrayed in the movies; instead, they helped me to my feet, supporting me under the arms, and guided me outside to a small, aging ambulance.
The school had already shared my parents’ contact information, and they were on their way.I was intrigued to see how they would react.Would they be angry?Would they feel pity for me?Deep down, I yearned for someone to embrace me and assure me that everything would be alright because, after all, I was still just a child.
By the time we arrived at the hospital, I felt a bit better but still weak.The reality of the hospital experience was nothing like what we saw on television.Everything moved at a sluggish pace; I wondered if someone were truly dying, they might not make it before seeing a doctor.
After nearly half an hour of waiting, a nurse finally brought me to the emergency room, and shortly after, my parents rushed in, looking frantic.
“What happened?”my mom asked, tears streaming down her face.
“How are you feeling?Are you hurt?”my dad added, his concern palpable.A wave of relief washed over me; they still cared, and I was still their child.
The doctor examined me after reviewing my vitals, which the nurse had taken earlier, and informed my parents that I would need a blood test and an IV.
I watched as the nurse filled not just one, but six containers with my blood.I couldn't help but wonder why they required so much.
My mom remained by my side, while my dad paced anxiously.The IV made me feel better, and I noticed the last drops trickling out.Soon after, a nurse came to remove it, applying gauze and a bandage to my arm.
Another forty minutes passed before the doctor returned, asking my parents to step outside.I could neither see nor hear them, and I couldn't help but speculate about their conversation.
Did Zane already know I was in the hospital?What were people saying at school?Was Andrea scared I might spill the secret?I pondered how long I could keep this to myself.Could I live with it?Would everything ever return to the way it had been?What would I be doing a year from now?
Suddenly, the door swung open, and my mom burst in, overwhelmed with tears, rushing toward me.I braced myself for another slap, one that would surely leave a mark.
“Are you pregnant?”she cried out.
Chapter 40
At the age of six, I dreamed of marrying a prince who would shower me with toys and candy.By twelve, my fantasy shifted to marrying the lead singer of my favorite band.At seventeen, I envisioned a future with Marco and three kids.Recently, I entertained the thought of running away with Zane, maybe even getting married and starting a family.But then, my reality became being a single mother to Andrea’s child—a child conceived not from love but from a moment of transgression, a constant reminder of the night that ruined my life.
How could I find a way to love this child, knowing they might resemble the man who took advantage of me?How did I end up here?It didn't seem possible that he could have been so careless.I recalled his anger, his cursing; perhaps this wasn't how he envisioned things going.Maybe something happened that wasn't planned.
The session was scheduled far from my period to ensure I wasn't bloated, meaning I was in my ovulation window, and the chances were pretty high.What an irony.
The ride home was filled with my parents’ shouting; I thought it couldn't get worse, yet there I was, facing an unplanned pregnancy.My parents argued about what should happen next: my dad wanted to terminate the pregnancy, while my mom insisted I should take responsibility.
But did anybody ask me what I wanted or how I felt?Hello, I was right here; I could hear you.Was I invisible?Did you care at all?They just assumed… They just assumed…
A bitter smile crossed my face as I imagined how Andrea would react to the idea of taking care of his creation.I could picture my parents’ shock if I revealed the truth to them, and that thought oddly amused me.
Honestly, I felt numb, trapped in a state of disbelief.All I wanted to do was laugh uncontrollably until I lost my breath.My mom was rummaging through the car for water.
“What are you looking for?”my dad asked.
“I need some water,” she replied.My dad’s gaze shifted from her to the pills she clutched in her hand.
“Are you still taking those?I thought you were done,” he said, disbelief etched across his face.
I wanted to shout, “Hey, Mom, did you know what those pills did to me?”But I held my tongue.Not out of fear of judgment or what others might think, but out oflove.What would I do for love?What sacrifices would I make?
