Disastrous

Seven

When I was 16 years old, and my parents were right at the core of their divorce, I shut myself down for a while. Lucas was 19, so he was already out of the house and still claims to this day that our parents divorce didn't affect him one bit. I, on the other hand, couldn't see how after 20 years together my overly sweet, sensitive mother and headstrong, controlling father were no longer going to be a couple.

As a result of their divorce, I turned to art. I was never one to write down my feelings, I didn't like writing much at all to be honest. So I never kept a journal, instead I expressed myself through drawing and painting. Sometimes when I began creating something, I had no idea what it was going to turn out to be until I had it completed.

To this day, art is still my go to thing that I have, that makes me happy and takes my mind off of all the struggles of life at once.

I'm standing in the room in Arabella and I's apartment that was supposed to be an office, but instead was turned into my paint room. It was quite small, but had a bay window that overlooked the city and was a peaceful place for me to let my creativity come to life. The sun is shining brightly through the window, the leaves on the trees rustling in the wind. A mother bird flies into her nest that is built in the tree, carrying what looks to be a worm in her beak. I watch as three tiny heads pop up, begging to be fed.

As the mother feeds her offspring, my hand reaches for a sketching pencil and away I go. I glance between the picture in front of me occurring outside of my window, and back at the canvas in front of me as I sketch.

It's quiet, so calm and peaceful that I nearly forget about my own offspring slowly growing inside of me. I didn't like using the term baby, that was too emotionally connected than I was willing to be. I knew I would have to become connected at some point, because so far Niall refused to sign any papers.

I was heartbroken, I felt alone and I was slowly falling into a dark, black hole that I knew I wouldn't be able to get out of.

All because Niall thought this was some sort of sign.

It was no sign. It was a mistake, a drunken hook up that never should have happened and resulted in me becoming pregnant.

It wasn't fair that I had to carry on being pregnant when I didn't want to be. I had no desire at this point in my life to be a mom, in fact I didn't know if I ever wanted kids at all.

And when I do picture myself possibly starting a family, in my mind I see me further down the line, in my late twenties with a good, well paying job. I'd have a husband, someone I was committed to and loved and someone I would actually want to start a family with. We would have our own home, not an apartment and we would be physically and emotionally ready to have a baby.

None of that was currently what I had, though.

No, I was working a job that I enjoyed but not one where I wanted to stay forever, and I was only 20 years old. I was pregnant with a child by a man that I did not love nor did I even know, and I lived in a city apartment with my best friend. This was all wrong, it wasn't how things were supposed to be and I was upset and frustrated all at once.

Just as I begin to swipe some colour onto the mother birds chest there's a pestering knock on the door. I set my paint brush down, trying to hold back the sigh I wanted to let out as I wiped my hands on the front of my apron.

"Come in"

The door squeaks open, and Arabella pops her head in. She was still upset with me, even though I had apologized a hundred times but she was getting accustomed to the idea of her best friend being pregnant.

"Uhm, Niall's here.."

Great, I think to myself. I knew he was coming over today but I got so caught up in here that I lost track of time.