Episode 02
1196 Words
Elena Rivera
I woke up sore all over, a huge arm draped across me. For a moment, I was confused. Then flashes of last night slammed into me, my stepmother selling me, the heated s*x, my desperate need to feel normal, to not feel broken.
I tried to free myself from his grip. His arms were strong, heavy like chains. One more pull, and I managed to wriggle out. I grabbed my underwear and dressed in haste. A check for two million sat on the table beside the half-empty tequila bottle.
I didn’t think. I just grabbed it.
I had to leave.
I didn’t want this life. I couldn't sleep with men just to survive. I wanted to live. I wanted to finish school. I wanted to be free.
I rushed out of the room. Out of the hotel. I ran and didn’t look back. My lungs burned as I flagged down a taxi and told the driver to take me to the nearest bank. I paid him with the little money I had left, cashed the check, opened a new account, and left with a platinum card. I withdrew some cash, bought a new phone at the mall, and booked a hotel for just one night.
Finally, I booked a flight out of the country.
I needed to get away. I needed a fresh start, anywhere else.
The hotel room was dimly lit. I dropped the bag of things I’d bought onto the chair, stripped off my clothes, and stepped into the shower.
I had refused to cry. I had been pretending to be strong holding it together like I was okay.
But in that moment, I didn’t want to pretend anymore.
I cried until my eyes burned and my ribs ached. I had slept with a man I didn’t know. I had been sold by the last people I thought were my family.
Why does this always happen to me?
Why me?
I never did anything wrong. I never deserved this pain. This shame.
My legs gave out beneath me, trembling from more than just exhaustion. I sank to the floor, water pouring over me, and let it all out.
No. I can't keep crying like this. I look pathetic.
I forced myself up from the floor and walked out of the bathroom. I bought a cute pyjama set at the mall earlier while running around. I wore the soft two-piece, and just as I did, the doorbell rang. A uniformed man entered and set my dinner on the table before quietly shutting the door behind him.
I ate until I felt like I would burst. Then I scrolled through my new phone, applied for a special two-year intensive architecture program, and decided I needed rest. I walked over to the bed and sank into it, praying sleep would wash away some of the frustration and anger.
**********
Two Months Later ….. Lakewood City
My apartment was small, but it was clean and mine. I sat on the bed, scrolling through an assignment, when a wave of nausea hit me hard. I barely made it to the bathroom.
At first, I thought it was stress. I'd been pushing myself. Life had been chaotic. But then it happened again the next morning and the one after that.
I didn’t want it to be what I feared, so I went to the hospital.
I explained to the doctor that I had fevers and vomiting. He suggested a full panel of tests. I agreed.
Now, I sat in the exam room, anxious, waiting for the results. The door opened, and a woman in her late forties walked in with a file in her hand.
"Miss Elena, your test results are out," she said, flipping through the papers.
"I'm a gynecologist. I take care of pregnant women, and I’ll be your doctor from now on," she added gently, pulling out a chair to sit beside me.
"Wait, what do you mean a doctor for pregnant women? I'm probably just sick. Maybe you got the wrong, Elena," I said, panic creeping into my voice. Pregnant? No. It couldn’t be.
"Miss, I know this is a lot. Please try to stay calm," she said softly. "Your results show that you're one month and two weeks pregnant."
I sank into the bed, the cold sheets pressing into my skin. I didn’t cry at first. I couldn’t. I just sat there, numb arms wrapped around my knees, trying to breathe.
How did my life spiral this far?
The doctor moved closer, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. She said something soothing, but I could barely hear her.
And then it all came crashing down. I broke.
I cried.
The doctor stayed with me for a while, letting me cry. She didn’t rush me. When I finally quieted down, she handed me a box of tissues and waited until I could look her in the eye.
“I know this is unexpected,” she said gently. “But you're not alone in this. You have options, and whatever you choose, there are people and resources to help you.”
I nodded numbly, wiping my face. My lips trembled as I whispered, “I didn’t plan for this. I didn’t even know him. It was just one night. I was… I was running from something.”
Her eyes softened. “It doesn’t make you a bad person. It makes you human. Sometimes life doesn’t go how we want it to, but it doesn’t mean it’s over.”
I didn’t know how to respond. My hands were trembling in my lap, and for a second, I felt like I couldn’t breathe again. But then I remembered that night, the tequila, the silence after, the loneliness. And now this. He was my first and the only man who had seen my nakedness.
Now of that one reckless decision, a life was growing inside of me.
I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to feel fear, anger, guilt, or something else. All I knew was that everything had just changed.
The doctor placed a small pamphlet beside me. “This has some information about your pregnancy and the early stages. I’ll give you some time to think. We’ll schedule a follow-up, and you can decide what steps you want to take. There’s no pressure.”
She stood, gave me a gentle smile, and left me alone in the room.
I sat there for a long time, staring at the wall, the words “one month, two weeks pregnant” echoing in my mind.
When I finally walked out of the hospital, the air felt colder than it had when I walked in.
I couldn't go straight home. I wandered through Lakewood, down quiet streets , unsure of where I was going. Somehow, I ended up sitting on a bench at the edge of a small park. Children were playing nearby, their laughter ringing through the air like a song from another world one I didn’t feel part of.
I didn’t know if I could do this. But maybe I had to try. I placed my hand on my stomach, rubbing it. I can do this .
- Writer
