Pregnant. I knew the minute the stupid line started forming a cross that I was pregnant. It was enough to make my heart drop into my stomach. I wanted to vomit but I couldn't. I hadn't eaten in three days. I numbly sat the test on the counter and crawled back into bed. Something was growing inside of me. This was supposed to be a happy occasion. That is if you were in a good situation; in a relationship or married to someone that loves you, living with your partner, financial stability, etc. My ex broke up with me after I miscarried months before. Now he was off, playing dad to a little girl that wasn't his after he told me he wasn't ready. Meanwhile here I am, depressed and laying in bed, pregnant six months after I miscarried.
I stupidly began sleeping with my friend, Zane, after my breakup. And in my fragile state, feelings for him began to form. But he chose another friend of his, Allie, to be with instead. A double whammy for me. But I needed someone. I needed to feel something. So I went to the nearest liquor store, bought as much alcohol as I could afford, and stood on the street corner and waited for something, anything, to happen. That's how I met Jeremy. In my drunken stupor, I got in the car with him and we drove to his house about 34 minutes away. There he ravaged me.
Jeremy was brutal, and despite being intoxicated, I remember feeling every thing. His slaps, his punches, his bites, him inside of me while doing all of the above. He made me unlock my phone so he could type in his number. He wanted to do all of this again. He wanted to hurt me so he could get off. And I allowed it. Because I was desperate to feel something. I shivered the entire ride home. I was sore and I could feel the broken blood vessels underneath my skin pooling to the surface to form bruises. "Bye." he said. That's all. Just bye. My legs were weak as I made my way through the front door that mom left unlocked for me. Thank god she was in bed. She'd be disappointed in seeing what her youngest has been doing.
I was 23 and still living with my mom. Obviously, not an ideal living situation when you're pregnant. She couldn't know. She can never know. She still doesn't know about my miscarriage six months before. She doesn't know how I was rushed to the emergency room, bleeding all over the gym equipment after doing leg presses, working out so hard because I was wanting the weight gain to stop, not knowing I was pregnant. And here I was pregnant, yet again. I'm so fucking stupid. At least I knew who got me pregnant last time though.
This time, I don't know whether it was Zane or Jeremy that got me knocked up. I fucked Jeremy within days of Zane starting his short lived relationship with Allie. I scrolled through the contacts on my phone until I reached Jeremy's name, and pressed the call button. Please pick up...
1 ring
2 rings
3 rings
4 rings
Please don't pick up. I remembered he was at work and instantly ended the call. I hope I didn't interrupt him. Because then he would be angry. And that means he would go harder on me next time he picked me up. But at least I was feeling something. I couldn't call Zane. I had already yelled at him for dating Allie after he told me he wasn't ready for a relationship. I felt the tears build up in my eyes again as I sent my sister a snapchat. I'm pregnant again. She wasn't really my sister, Kendra. Our moms only met once when I lived in Texas. But she was my only true friend when I was being bullied freshman year. She won't judge me. At least not too harshly.
"Oh Lyss, I'm so sorry. What are you gonna do?" Kendra responded, and it took everything I had just to keep it together. She knew what I wanted to do. I didn't need to tell her, because she knew that after my breakup that I no longer wanted kids. I simply responded with "I'm calling Planned Parenthood."
~~~~~~
"Babe look what I found." Jeremy texted me at around 8 pm that night. I guess he wasn't mad at me. I looked at the photo and shuddered. It was of a buttplug. And it was standing next to an empty toilet paper roll. They were the same size. "I think I'm gonna buy this and use it on you." the following text from him said. Please no. "I do not want you to use that on me." I texted back. Two minutes pass. He texts back. "Hmm, too fucking bad." I sighed and sat my phone down. It didn't matter what I wanted. But I couldn't lose him. My phone screen lit up from another text message. Jeremy again. "I loved the sounds of you crying and screaming while I fucked you. Can't wait to do it to you again. Love you, babe."
"Can't wait, either. Love you too." I lied. My bottom lip began to quiver. This was the first time he told me that he loved me. After what he did to me on Valentine's Day night, all I was wanting to hear was that he loved me. Because what he and his friends did to me was unforgiveable. But I put myself in that situation, so they couldn't take all of the blame, right? And the reason I put myself in that situation was because of one reason and one reason only:
I was feeling something.
