Fragments of Us

2: Jema

I never imagined it would come to this, but here I am, standing in the frigid darkness, trying to imprint the familiar embrace of the distant night in my soul for one last time.

This place was my home for twenty years—where I took my first breath, learned my first word, and learned how to love. Tragically, it is also where I'm set to lose it all.

Leaving this place would have been the last thing on my mind, but now it's stands to be the last place I wish to remain. My heart will always be attached to the cold breeze that hugs me at night, the sun's warmth that makes me feel alive, the calming whispers of the waves, and the feel of the sand under my feet.

If only things turned out differently but all the lingering memories of my sweetest days were smudged by the person with whom I thought I'd be sharing this paradise for as long as I lived.

"I'm sorry. I want to have a child, but I'm not ready for it yet. I still have so many dreams, and having a child will ruin all my chances of fulfilling them. Maybe we could still do something about it."

My blood froze upon hearing those words. I can't believe I'm hearing it from Tots, the first man I loved.

"Who are you? Do you even hear yourself right now?"

"What other choice do we have, Jema? We're barely twenty with no decent job. How are we supposed to raise a child?"

He screamed at me, breaking the glass he was holding.

"I'm sorry, but if you're not going to abort that baby, I'll have to leave."

His voice was cold and he left me crying on the floor.

I was three months pregnant by then. I gathered all the strength and courage I need to tell my parents about my pregnancy because I've already decided to keep the child but it seemed not mine to keep.

My dad was indignant upon hearing the news, and we haven't spoken since then.

He was my hero—the person I know I can always run to, but not this time.

I've been in constant turmoil, causing me to lose the baby.

I really wish I could stay, but there's no one, and there's nothing left for me to stay here. This place no longer feels like home, and I doubt it ever will again.