Briana Jungwirth was a normal girl until she met Louis from One Direction. After a steamy love affair Briana finds herself pregnant, and wondering who the father is. She slept with virtually everyone in One Direction except Liam, will Briana seek to...
I realized when you're pregnant you realize who your real friends are. Most people disappear when you can't go out and drink and party with them.
Most of the time it was just Ashley and I, and occasionally Lexi would stop in to see how I was doing. Fizzy called all of the time from all corners of the Earth while the boys toured to see how I was. Louis flew in to be at as many sonogram appointments as possible, and Harry came to visit me also after without Louis knowing.
It was a lonely life believe it or not. I couldn't really go out to hang with my friends since paparazzi stood outside my gated community just waiting to catch a glimpse of me. My friends only could come to me and they didn't really do much of that.
I found myself regretting I ever conceived this little 'bundle of joy'. But I knew I couldn't do anything about my regret. All I could do was push those thoughts out of my mind. Although I regret her, I also loved her.
I read books to her, since I read in a pregnancy book if you speak to the baby they remember when they come out of the womb. I played music for her, putting my headphones over my stomach for her to listen to music.
I especially loved to have her listen to her daddy's voice.
Louis would also sing to her himself, pressing his cheek to my stomach and singing tunes. Harry did the same. They both were falling in love with this kid rapidly, which made my heart break since only one of them is the father.
One day I went to the supermarket to buy some groceries. It was the first time I left my house in ages and luckily paparazzi didn't follow me. Suddenly disaster struck.
"Slut!" A girl called off to me by some apples that were stacked at a display. I looked down in shame and looked at some bananas. I didn't make eye contact, I tried not to.
"Look at her getting bananas." One laughed.
"She must love eating fruits shaped like that. Is that how big Louis' is?" One girl called out. They both laughed and walked away. A tear fell down my cheek, and suddenly I was angry.
I walked back to my driver with my hands on my belly and when I sat down I looked towards him.
"Where's the nearest tattoo shop?" I asked from the backseat.
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I sat down in the tattoo chair as the man looked at me.
"Are you sure you want to get this while pregnant? It can harm the baby and put stress on you..." A young tattooed guy told me.
"I'm positive. I've had enough pain these past few months, not like a little needle would do any harm." I reassured. He shrugged.
"If anything happens to this baby we are not responsible. That's why you signed those papers when you came in." He said and dipped the tattoo needle in red ink.
I gave him my wrist as he pressed it flat on the desk in front of us. The needle buzzed and cut through my skin, and he slowly rolled the needle around. I bit my lip at the pain. Once finished, I looked at the end product as he wiped away excess ink.
"A red 'A'. Who are you, Hester Prynne?" He asked as he looked down at my tattoo.
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"Precisely." I answered proudly and looked down at my wrist.
I chose to get a red A after the Scarlet Letter A. The Scarlet Letter is a classic book about a girl who is involved in a sex related scandal and at the time crime, adultery.
Written in the colonial time of the Puritans and based in colonial Boston, Hester Prynne is a married woman who moves to Boston and waits for her husband to arrive. After a year of waiting she assumes he has died and has an affair with a local minister, although she is not sure whether or not her husband is dead.
Hester and the minister of course were not married, which made both of them adulterers. After getting pregnant Hester is charged for her crime, since at the time adultery was illegal. As punishment, Hester was forced to stand on a scaffold (that little stage they used to hang people on), and was publically humiliated. She also was forced to wear a red 'A' on her chest for the rest of her life as long as she lived in Boston.
Since these girls made me feel so ashamed of my scandal and affair out of marriage, I felt like my situation was a reflection of her. My baby and I were penalized in the media and in the world in general. People shunned me and made fun of me. So, in order to always remember and never forget the pain I experienced with this pregnancy, I got a tattoo of an 'A'."
You may ask, "why would you like to remember your pain?". My answer to that is simply this: you learn something from pain. And when you forget, then you didn't learn anything at all from that pain.
