✨️ONC 2023 Shortlisted✨️
'And I knew then, with an earth-shattering certainty, that everything I'd worked for, strived for, suffered for, had just turned to dust. My life as I knew it, scattered along the pavement with shards of windscreen and the c...
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I slam the laptop shut, letting myself topple back onto the bed with a groan. My stomach feels like it's stuck in the spin cycle of a washing machine. I stay still for a moment. I want to move, stretch my legs, but it just makes the sensation worse.
It's Friday. I have been here since Monday with no sign of Dad. I don't care much, though the silence is weird, and even a house this small can feel huge when you're the only one to fill it. That's not the only reason I feel out of sorts. Not a single one of my so-called friends has done so much as messaged me, though they have plenty to say about my car-smashing exploits online. If I achieve nothing else for the rest of my life, which feels like a real possibility right now, at least I can say I've gone moderately viral on TikTok.
I gaze up at the ceiling. When I was small, Dad had stuck glow-in-the-dark stickers to the ceiling, to keep me from being afraid of the dark. I wish the dark was the biggest problem I had in my life right now. My room is the same, which is both comforting and unsettling. It's like time has literally stopped within these walls. My wallpaper is a faded candyfloss pink, dotted with fluffy clouds. Every available fabric - curtains, rug, and lampshade is covered in rainbows. Mum was clearly obsessed — it looks like a Pride parade threw up in here.
A cold mug of decaf tea balances precariously on the quilt since my usual coffee fix makes me feel sicker than the morning sickness. I'm surrounded by printed copies of my personal statement for my Oxford application - it's a massacre of highlighter wounds and blood-red ink. Every word feels like it could shift my future.
A few days ago, there had been a tense Zoom involving both sets of parents, the Swanson's lawyer and a headteacher with a twitching nerve in her jaw. Kyle's parents were adamant it wasn't safe for me to be near their son, which I thought was hilarious. They still refused to acknowledge that Kyle was the father like maybe their precious little boy was too innocent for sex. And he was lying to them about it through his teeth. But Stephen made it clear our discretion depended on theirs. For a family with political ambitions, a secret teen pregnancy was never a good look. I didn't like Stephen very much, and he'd never hidden his indifference to me, but at that moment, he was a damn superhero.
The conclusion? I couldn't go back to school, but they wouldn't expel me either. I could study at home and go in just for exams. I could still get into Oxford. My stomach gurgled as if reminding me there was one unavoidable hurdle I had to face before that was an option. I stare down at my flat belly, running my hand across the taut skin. Feeling for a sign, a subtle shift that reveals what lies beneath my flesh. It looks the same, but in a few months, it will swell, curve and stretch. Unless I chose for it not to.
I close my eyes tight, wishing it all away. I was always so clear, so certain of everything. Of the things I needed to do, the steps I needed to take to get to where I wanted to be. And I was ruthless, chopping down obstacles in my way without a moment's thought. But this decision... I was burying it, the horror of it as deep as I could, almost but not quite convincing myself it wasn't real.
