Dragon

3 - I don't want to do this

Kyla

Nine years ago

‘Mommy, I don’t want to do this.’ I sobbed so hard. I didn’t want my mother to force me to do this.

She grabbed my arms and turned me in my chair as she crouched down in front of me. ‘You don’t have a choice. Do you know what your father will do if he finds out?’

All she cared about was what other people would think of her. My mother never seemed to care about me or what I wanted. I could not let her do this to me!

‘I don’t care! Send me back to Grandma’s; she’ll take care of me, but don’t make me do this. I’ll tell them you’re forcing me, that I don’t want this. You can’t make me!’

Mom grabbed my arms tighter and shook me. It made me feel as though I would throw up! She stopped shaking me, but her eyes widened as she gritted her teeth.

‘They’ll take you away from me, Kyla! Is that what you want? To go into the system? Because your father will make sure that’s where you stay. They will take that baby away from you and give it to someone else, and then you’ll never see it anyway!’ She yelled at me.

Connor and I were careless that night under the old oak tree. We had made love, and now I was pregnant with his baby. But I didn’t want the abortion my mother was trying to force on me. I wanted to keep my baby. I wanted to show them all the love I never had. In my fifteen-year-old mind, I could take care of my child, and I would do my best to be a good mom. There was nothing I would not do for the child in my belly. I had never felt so much love for someone who had not even been born yet. But I did, and I would do whatever I could to protect them - my little love.

However, my mother had other ideas. There was no way my mother would let me keep my child. A teenage pregnancy would bring scandal to our family, and as it was I who had slept with a boy and ended up pregnant, it would be even worse. In her eyes, at least.

‘Your father will make that boy’s life hell. Is that what you want, Kyla? Because I promise you that if you keep this baby, your father will destroy Connor Marshall. He will never have a good life. You mark my words.’

I shook my head as more tears fell from my eyes.

Of course, I didn’t want my father to make things complicated for Connor. Mom had already told me that Dad would call the police and have Connor arrested. She said that they’d tell the police that Connor raped me.

No matter how many times I protested that no such thing happened, Mom said that the police would believe what she said because she would tell them that Connor had messed with my head. I was a child and did not know what I was saying. Connor came from a biker family, a family of criminals that anyone would be glad to see the back of.

Mom said that Connor’s life would be ruined. He’d never get a decent job with a police record, nor would anyone ever trust him again.

I was so scared, but I told Mom that she was a liar; none of those things were true. Connor’s uncle was a Mafia Don, and if anyone touched Connor, Draven would make them suffer.

But she had a way of convincing me that she was right. She told me that Connor would never know who was behind everything, so Draven would never find out. We did not live there anymore. We had moved away, and my father was a military man.

Why would he not be believed?

In the end, I didn’t know what to believe.

‘You’re doing this, Kyla. You do not have a choice! You will not shame your father in front of his men, Kyla. I promise you, your life will not be worth living!’

My father was a Lieutenant Commander, and he demanded respect. Dad could be domineering at times, and he was always stern. He was working his way up the ranks in the Navy; nothing could get in the way of that. Not even me, his youngest daughter. I knew that.

I also knew my mother was right. If my father found out that I was pregnant at the front end of fifteen, nothing would ever be the same for me again.

I was torn between wanting my child and not wanting my father to abandon me. Not that he was ever much of a father to me, but I was a young girl, and I wanted my daddy to be proud of me. The Lord knew that my mother never was.

‘Please, Kyla. My friends will think I’m the worst mother in the world if I can’t even get my own fifteen-year-old to keep her legs shut!’

That’s all she cared about, what she looked like to her friends. She didn’t care about me; she never had.

‘They’ll think I let you run around doing whatever you want! You’ve been fifteen for a few weeks, and you’re already pregnant! Your sisters wouldn’t bring me this kind of trouble. Your sisters know how to behave!’

My sisters were seventeen and eighteen. The apples of my mother’s eye.

Me?

God knows what I was to her – a mistake is how she made me feel every day of my life. It wasn’t my fault that my mother got postpartum depression after I was born, but she seemed to think it was. God, she never let me forget it!

‘Do you want to end up like me? So sick after having a child that you want to die? Do you want your child to feel like she ruined your life?’

My chin wobbled with sadness. I wished she could see what she was doing to me.

‘Is that what I did? Did I ruin your life?’

She looked at me for a moment, mouth open to say something, but nothing came out. She meant what she said and wasn’t willing to validate that I was wrong or that she even loved me or ever had.

‘Kyla Swanson?’

I looked up at the nurse and got out of my seat. There was nothing more to say. My mother followed us into the room, the room where my life would be changed forever.