The first time it happened was when he confessed to her. A naive little girl she was, she believed it was love . . . Nothing but sweet romance. It was the first time he had hit her. A mere slap to her cheek but it slap was still a slap. It was painful but a sense of pleasure lingered. That was when he knew she was his.

BULLIES

She didn't sleep that night. All kinds of thoughts rushed through her mind like a never ending waterfall. 


Was she going to be a good mom? Was she ready? What would happen to her child? Was would it be healthy? Was she really suited to be a mother? Would she still be in this place when she had her child? Whose child was it? Would he come for the child? Would he take her back? Would the child be happy with her? 


The tears that fell from her eyes weren't sad tears or happy tears. They were terrified tears. 


Terrified that she wasn't going to be a good mother, terrified of her situation, terrified to find out the father, terrified to know if she and her child would hate her, terrified of knowing the father, terrified of her child didn't make it. 


An emotion common to her like breathing. Like a second skin. It scared her, she was afraid of fear. Afraid of feeling it. Afraid of not knowing what will happen. 


Thirty six-