"Promise, come on ... You can't stay in bed all your life," my mom said. She's been trying to get me out of bed for 2 and a half weeks already. But she doesn't know what it feels like. To feel completely alone. To have the one person you wanted to spend your whole life with, taken away from you. My boyfriend, Justin, died 3 weeks ago.
We were riding bikes, just like we did every Saturday. It had just finished raining. We were talking about ... the baby. I was 3 months pregnant. We hadn't told our parents yet. We were too scared to. We were only juniors in high school. Our parents would flip if they found out. We'd already decided we didn't want to do an abortion. And giving up the baby for adoption was something we didn't want to do, but we knew it would be to difficult to raise the baby on our own. We had big plans. I wanted to be a counselor, and Justin wanted to go into the navy.
But like most people, we thought we were invincible.
We were completely wrong.
We were going down this hill, laughing at nothing. Completely forgetting about our previous topic. We didn't notice the big Silverado roaring toward us. All I remembered was hearing tires skidding on the wet pavement, Justin screaming my name, and my screams.
I woke up, during what only seemed like a few seconds. My mom was crying, her sweating hand clutching my scraped fingers. My dad was standing in the corner of the room, staring at the ground.
"Mom?" I called out in a scratchy voice. My parent's head shot up, staring at me wide eyed. As if they couldn't believe I had just talked. The only thing my mom did was whisper my name and start crying more. My dad took slow steps towards me.
"Promise ...."
My da then explained to me what happened. The driver was high. He thought he was invincible too. Justin died. He hit his head on the pavement, and died on impact. I was lucky. I landed a feet into the woods. But I had lost the baby.
I'd been crying for days. Not eating much. Not getting much sleep. I'd even started cutting.
We weren't invincible.
