It’s cold, and the wind is blowing fiercely through my long, tangled hair. I can feel my chest pounding in fear that I’ll be found, living in the crawl space underneath this old abandoned home. At least I think it’s abandoned. There are never any lights on in the house, and al the rooms are empty. Except for a small bedroom, where there’s an old, worn out leather chair, and a pile of clothes in the corner. The doors are always unlocked, but I’m too afraid to walk in. At night I hear foot steps, dragging around the house, but I’ve never seen anyone coming or going, and I’ve never heard any voices.
Yesterday, I went job hunting, but by the looks on the employer’s faces I was a joke. I could understand how I wasn’t taken seriously in these torn clothes. Being four months pregnant didn’t make it any easier. Sometimes I just want to give up, but I know God has a better plan for me. Every day seems to get worse. Running and hiding. Constantly praying that I’m never found. A couple months ago I had such a good life. Just graduating from high school, my parents bought me a brand new car, and gave me plenty of spending money for college. But everything changed when I found out I was pregnant.
My boyfriend joined the National Guard and was sent off to boot camp before I could tell him. We had just broken up a couple weeks before anyway, so I don’t think he would care that much. I didn’t plan on telling my parents until I moved out on my own, but my nosey mother found the home pregnancy tests in the garbage. All six of them, with either bright, blue plus signs, or smiley faces. I had bought so many of them because I wanted to be sure. Both of my parents were devastated and in total shock. My mother, being the self centered person that she is, was too busy worrying about what people would think of her. If she raised me wrong, or didn’t pay close enough attention to me. She has always been too concerned about her “image”. My father was very disappointed in me. He’s always badgering me to make good decisions and not follow behind others. It seemed like the world was ending, and slowly mine was.
I walked in the kitchen to find them quietly talking. As I entered, they both smirked at me, as if they were making some sort of plan or scheme against me. “Sit down honey,” my mom says eagerly, “We need to talk about some things.” At this point, my mind is wondering. What else could we possibly have to talk about? What have I done now? I figured things couldn’t get any worse so I sat. They’re staring me down, and won’t even look me in my eyes, as if I wasn’t their child anymore. I could never forget the looks on their faces. They immediately began to give me a speech:
“You know we love you, but I must say I’ve never been so disappointed in my life. We understand that you were planning on going to college and living on campus, but obviously your plans have changed. Because of the bad choices you have made, we’ve closed your savings account and we’re taking your car. Also, you know that we’re against abortion, but you’re too young to be raising a child. You have your whole life ahead of you and we’re not going to let a baby ruin that for you. So we’ve decided that we will give the baby up for adoption, as soon as it’s born. We already have a few interested families.”

The room got quiet. I look up and their both just staring at me, waiting for some type of reply, or in this case an agreement. I knew this was my mom’s idea. We’ve never had a good relationship. She works long hours during the week, sometimes even weekends. It’s been that way since I could remember. My father has always been the supporting parent. He has always seemed to understand me and has been there to support me mentally and emotionally. I couldn’t believe he was going along with this plan that my mother had concocted. Now it was my turn to talk. I was so shocked, and enraged. I didn’t know where to begin. So many thoughts were running through my head, I couldn’t figure out how to reply without cursing or being disrespectful. The only thing I could say was NO. It all happened so fast and I wish I could go back and try to make compromises with them.

That’s how I got to where I am today. My parents and I argued for several minutes after I finally opened my mouth and spoke. They told me if I didn’t want to follow their rules then I could leave, without transportation and without money. I couldn’t believe my parents would even let me leave knowing I had no place to go and food to eat. Now, I just pray everyday that God will send me some type of hope, that my baby and I won’t always have to live in the crawl space underneath this old, abandoned home.