Every Monday on the blog, Trying to get Published, a word of the week is given. Again, I am using a mini-clip...another part of the continuing and untitled short story (or maybe book idea?) I've let take over the keyboard.
This week's word: Survival...
"I'm a Survivor" is blaring off the stereo and bouncing off the walls. I am free! I survived! I don't have a care in the world!
After I told him about the baby, and his reaction, I just walked out. Walked out on him without a care in the world. I didn't feel alone any longer. For the next nine months, I'm not by myself. I have this baby inside of me.
He's texted me, left countless pleading voicemails, and all I wanted to do is run! Run as far as the wind will take me, far enough away from him, my mother, everyone. My mother...
Her reaction, I think, hurt me more than his ever did, anyway. Literally, it hurt more. This time she only focused on my legs and stomach, until I was so afraid that I threw her against the wall. I ran towards my tiny room, took out my hidden "survival*" money jar, and ran out of that hell hole...forever.
I never looked back. This baby has been everything I needed. He or she has saved me from her, from Daddy, from all those rotten kids at school...and thank goodness, I'm eighteen! No one can tell me what to do anymore. I knew saving, not spending a dime on anything, saving every nickel of my allowance, would help me one day. My "survival*" money and I am definitely, maybe barely, surviving on it.
But, for some reason, and I don't know how or why, I am making it. No one would ever know that I've been planning this all along. Although my plan had the father of this baby in place, it's no matter. That little dip in the road can be patched up easily.
I'm not showing yet, so I'll find someone. Tell him it's his baby...yeah, that's it! I fooled the first one, I can deceive another. My mother didn't raise a fool, that's for sure. She did it to my "Daddy," I can do it as well. If it's one thing, she taught me is that everyday a sucker is born.
I do feel a little tiny bit guilty, not that much, but a little. He thought it was his baby! His! I do feel sorry for him, though. He must be downright depressed right now thinking he's lost me, his "little lost cause". Oh, how he thought he had saved me by having me be his girl. But it was all part of my plan and it worked just as I thought it would.
Poor him. Poor, poor him. Well, now he knows what every ounce of my body felt living this life God gave me. Every single day, I've been beaten. He knew it and he never did anything to help me. But, I got back at him, didn't I? It wasn't hard to find someone to knock me up. It was a bit difficult, I must admit, lying to him.
I have to stop thinking about him. He isn't important. What's important is that I got out of there and I'm starting the life I was supposed to have. My real life with my baby making everything just the way it's supposed to be...real.
Survival* is the key. Surviving with this baby and making sure I give it the life I always wanted.
~ Nay ~