Obsessed...

Chapter 4: Remembering...

So, everyone, this is an important chapter and had a lot of vital information. 

Emmy_Grace xoxox <3

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I texted Ruta and asked her to meet me at Sam’s desserts. Telling Ruta was funny! She laughed so hard that she started to cry. Afterwards though, she did feel a bit sorry for Annikka, I mean, Louie did break up with her in a public place.

We laughed for a bit, and at about 8pm, I said goodbye, and walked home. Yes it was dark, but I was not frightened. Our neighbourhood was a good one; no one got raped at night or kidnapped. It was really safe. When I got home, I went and studied for half an hour, then I called out good night and went to bed.

I held the pregnancy test, tears pouring down my face, it was positive. I was going to have a baby. I knew I was too young. I wish everything had happened differently. I knew who the father was right away. He was the only person who I had slept with. My first. I screamed into my pillow, wishing this to go away.

I woke up with a start.  I was shivering; my blankets had fallen off my bed and onto my floor. I picked them up and snuggled into them. I hated that dream. It was the worst dream I had ever had. The time I had found I was pregnant.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~6 months ago…

My period was 2 months late. Normally I would not worry, but because I had lost my virginity around 1 and a half months ago, I was scared. It was a possibility that I could be pregnant. The only way I could find out for sure is if I did a pregnancy test...or a couple. In my hand I held 4 tests and 2 bottles of water. All I had to do was pee on the stick; wait 3 minutes and the result would show up. But I just could not find the nerve to do it. After 10 minutes, I pulled myself together and peed on the first stick. The 3 minutes took forever, I was so nervous. When the time was up, I looked at the stick and screamed. There on the stick was a small little plus sign…positive. I tried the other 3 tests, they were all positive also. I had been crying since the second test, I knew I was going to be in deep shit when my parents found out.

We had used protection though! It must have broken or…I don’t know! This is so stressful! I have to tell my parents, because I would rather have me tell them than wait from them to find out via the grapevine.

I ended telling them one week later. My dad yelled and roared his head off and my mum was crying and kept mumbling “I'm too young to be a grandmother…” My dad wanted to know who the father was, but I would not tell him. I knew he would go and beat him up. I also knew that when he beat him up the secret would be out.

They tried to convince me to put the baby up for adoption, but I couldn’t do that. It was mine; I would never let it go. My father even suggested abortion; I yelled at him, I even slapped him for that stupid idea.

Eventually I could not hid the bump under my clothes and the secret got out. There were rumours about who the father was, but they were never right. The father didn’t even realise that he was going to be a dad.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~2 months ago…

I was studying for an exam that was sufficient for me to pass my English class when I felt a stabbing pain in my gut. Water leaked through my pants and down my leg, I screamed so loud it hurt my own ears. Mum and Dad came rushing in. My mum took one look at me and told my father to bring the car around the front.

It’s too early! It’s not due for another month! My head hurt, I was in so much pain. I clinged onto my mother, tears making gushing rivers down my face.

Mum was making soothing noises to me and kept telling me that it was alright, and that I would be fine. But I knew something was wrong.

Dad came running in and mum instructed him to pick me up gently and carry me to the car. He put me in the back seat and jumped in the front. Mum climbed in the back with me, holding my hand.

We got to the hospital 5 minutes before Jarod West Abrams was born. I held him in my arms and then I felt him go limp. I screamed for the nurse. She quickly took him from me and another nurse raced out of the room, calling for a doctor. I was crying and so confused. Suddenly, everything went black and I drifted off into a deep sleep.

3 hours later, I awoke. I was still in the hospital but I was in a different room. I could not see my baby anywhere. I called out for my parents, and they came into the room, rushing to my side. They both had tear tracks down their faces.

“Kareena, how are you feeling,” my father asked.

“I'm fine, a little sore, but I will be okay. Where is Jarod? Why isn’t he here with me?” My questions shot out of me.

“Hunny,” this was my mother speaking, “I think the nurse wants to speak with you,” she pressed the button on the wall.

Five minutes later, a nurse walked in.

“How are you feeling, Kareena?” she asked kindly.

“I'm fine! I just want to know where my baby is! Why won't anybody tell me?” I yelled.

“Sweetheart,” my mother soothed, trying to calm me down. But I didn’t want to be calm; I wanted my baby, in my arms and safe.

“Kareena, I am so sorry, but I have some bad news for you. Your baby was born 1 month early and his brain was not developed properly. You baby passed away at 5:42pm. I am so sorry for your loss,” the nurse said. She looked at me sympathetically.

I thought I could die. I started to scream and cry, nothing my parents said calmed me. The nurse ended pulling out a tranquiliser to make me fall asleep.

I awoke 2 days later, my eyes were blurry and I saw my parents sitting on chairs next to my bed. I stared at them. My parents looked so sad.

“Sweetie, we are taking you home today,” my mum said.

“Where did they put him, mum?” I asked.

My father answered instead, “They would have put him in the morgue, I think, hunny.”

My face fell. My mother was crying silently, my dad’s arm around her shoulder, supporting her, my hand was in mums.

The nurse came in with the sign out sheet, and handed it to my father. He filled it out and my mum helped me out of the bed. It hurt to walk.

When we got home, I walked up to my bedroom slowly. I passed the room that we had redecorated for the new member of the family that would never come home. Once in my bedroom, I shut the door and sat on my bed. I curled up into a tiny ball and cried. Falling into a deep sleep, I dreamt that Jarod was 6 and he was playing with his friends in the park and I was watching on my arm was my husband…

Jarod’s funeral was 2 weeks later, all of my friends and family turned up to support me.

Present…

That was a hard time in my life…I remember it so clearly. I was depressed, I only got over my depression a couple of days before I returned to school. I still saw a shrink but I knew I was getting better. I had a real friend now, rather than fake ones. But I wish I didn’t have to lose someone that was already so important to me just to realise that my friends weren’t real…