Fortitude

Chapter 1: Fortitude

Song that inspired me to write this chapter:

Beautiful disaster - Jon McLaughlin

Valerie's POV

I wake up to the cries of my little girl, and I rush into her bedroom to calm her down.

"Shh, it's okay, honey. It was just a bad dream. It's okay." I comfort her, hugging her while soothing her hair, the way I do every night, the way I've done it for the past month ever since Angela started having this recurring nightmare.

The same one is repeating itself over and over again, apparently, and she still refuses to talk about it. But how bad can it be? She's barely five years old, for God's sake, and I can't keep seeing her like this.

Her hair's a mess, her cheeks are flushed, and tears keep streaming down her beautiful face.

She continues sobbing against my shoulder while I rock her back and forth like I did when she was still a baby, and after a moment, her breathing evens out, and she calms down.

I put her back in bed and kiss her forehead. I watch her sleep peacefully for a few moments. I watch her breathe, slowly, the tiniest smile spread on her lips.

Her face looks like an angel's.

She is an angel, and I still wonder today how this angel's mine.

Five years ago...

"Valerie! You can't have this baby! Are you out of your damn mind? You're sixteen! You can't even take care of yourself, how do you think you're going to take care of a baby? You're not responsible enough! You'd make a really bad mother! No, this is not happening!" my mom started yelling and trembling, while tears kept  streaming down her face.

My dad held her by the elbows and sat her down on the couch, trying to calm her down before she had one of her breakdowns.

"She's right, Valerie. We're not saying
abortion is the right solution, but it's the only solution right now. And there is no denying it." my dad said firmly, looking me straight in the eyes with an expression I knew all too well.

He'd been trying not to completely lose his temper and take it out on me ever since I told them I was pregnant three days ago.

At first, both of them were shocked.

And then, my mom started crying hysterically, and my dad was even too angry and disappointed to try and calm her down. He'd always had anger issues, and his doctor had been saying he'd been making a lot of progress recently.

But with this news, I had no idea how he would react. How any of them would react.

The first thing my dad said was "Get out."

I thought I must have heard him wrong at first, but when he started repeating it over and over again, his voice rising until he was yelling in my face, it became clear to me he didn't want me there.

It was there, in the way he was looking at me.

Disgust. Disappointment. Rage.

It was there in the way he was looking around him, looking for something to break. He found my grandmother's vase, took it without a second thought, and threw it against the wall with terrible force.