Dear Ethan,
I'm in the hospital. I can barely write right now. I've been in labor for the past four hours. The birth is taking too long. I'm so afraid. The doctors think the baby has a lower chance of living because I'm only thirteen. It's taken so long already. I think he might be dead.
Finally, two hours later, I'm not in as much pain anymore. I am now the proud thirteen year old mother of a little boy, whom I named Ethan Ryans. I was also adopted by your family. I'm sharing a room with my son. So that I don't trouble your family, I'm going to move out as soon as possible.
Your parents have already taken on the role of grandparents to Ethan. I bought a crib and some other items I'll need for a baby. Your parents said they'd help me raise him.
YOU ARE READING
Lost Half
Non-Fiction{Warning: Contains suicide, sexual items, and self-harming.} I'm heartbroken. I have had a major crush on my best friend Ethan for years, since about the time I met him. I confessed to him a few weeks ago, and when I was following him to the park to...
