Fast forward several months.... He is 16 and "has needs". I am 14 and a virgin. At first I fought it but in the end it was easier to go numb to every horrible thing he was doing to me. His parents did the same. The nights I was crying too loudly his mother would knock softly on the door before retreating, I hated that sound more that the act itself.
Fast forward several more months........... I miss my period. I ignore it at first since I had just gotten my first pair of blood soaked panties a few months prior.
And then I missed the next one.
And then I bought a little piece of plastic that held my entire future on its piss soaked tip. Not surprisingly it came up positive. I looked up the nearest planned parenthood and found out that in my state I needed an adult since I was so young so I went to Google for guidance. Found plenty of false hopes and slut shaming but nothing of use to a child in my situation.
I kept the baby, not from my choice but a choice made by a nurse at the clinic when she lied about how far along I was (said I was much earlier in my pregnancy) and postponed my procedure because of it, I ended up traveling 3 hrs to another state for this appointment she set up and found out I was in fact too far along to get the procedure.
In the end I am so immensely happy I have my son. I love him more than I thought possible and hearing his voice makes my day. But I lost my choice, and for that I am still bitter. I wish I could say that I never look at my son and remember what he came from, that it never crosses my mind but that would be a lie. I cant help what I cannot forget. I remember everything his father did to me, all the terror and pain, but I will never let that affect my relationship with my son. He is perfect in every way.
Every seven years your body is essentially new, which means in seven years I will have a body you have never touched.
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