Locked Away

Weeks passed by and I felt sicker each day. I popped some pills, but nothing changed. All I could do was get a pregnancy test. I couldn't be pregnant, but what if I was?

The test instructions confused me. Then they frustrated me when the result wouldn't come up as quickly as it was advertised. But when the results finally did come, I was depressed.

I was pregnant.

The baby was Ryan's. The poor, innocent baby had to have a monster for a father. And I was only nineteen! I wanted to be a writer. Now it would be tougher than ever to keep my priorities straight long enough to submit something for publishing. Abortion was not an option for me. I was already guilt-filled enough. Ryan was going to be furious. But if he's smart he won't touch me while I'm pregnant.

That night I broke the news.

"Ryan," I cooed, looking into his eyes. "I have something to tell you."

"Go ahead," he replied.

"Well, sweetie, today I took a pregnancy test...and it turned out positive!" I spilled, waiting for his reaction.

"Oh, honey, that's great! I can't believe it!" he exclaimed.

Good. He was excited and maybe he wouldn't hit me.

"So who's going to take care of it? 'Cause I'm not the father."

I was shocked. How could he say that?

"What?!?"I shrieked.

He lunged for me, smacking me in the mouth. Blood splashed on my tongue, leaving me with a bitter taste.

"Don't raise your voice at me!" he screamed.

"I'm sorry!" I whimpered.

He kicked me in the face again. It would probably leave another bruise..."

I remembered writing this in my journal. It was happening again. In my mind I wanted to fight back, but I was trapped. I prayed for him to stop, stop, stop. Finally, he did, and turned towards the kitchen.

This was my chance. I mustered up my strength and raced up the stairs, grabbed the suitcase, and ran out the door before he knew I was leaving.

I ran past Ryan's car. I couldn't steal it, and I didn't have my own, so I would have to rely on my exhausted legs to carry me to safety. I was two blocks away when I heard him start the car and gun it down the road. He would definitely see me, so I zigzagged in people's yards until I found a house with no one home and an unlocked back gate. Ducking in, I watched him drive past. I needed somewhere to stay, but where?

My mom? No. Not an option. My sister, Angela's, house? Maybe. Hotel? I didn't have much money. Angela's it was.

Angela lived as a single mom about forty miles away. She was twenty-five years old and lived in a crappy part of town. Her boyfriend left her when she was seventeen and she found out she was pregnant. She would be a great comfort, considering she had been through something similar. So once I caught my breath, I creeped slowly into the dark streets, then began to walk quickly in the direction of her house.

About an hour and a half later, I rang Angela's doorbell. Her daughter Emily ran to answer the door.

"Aunt Lisa!" she exclaimed. "Where's Ryan?" she asked, looking behind me for a glimpse of him.

"I'm not sure,"I answered uncomfortably. "Is your mommy here?"

I waited while she went to search for her mom. She returned a few minutes later with her mom following close behind.

"Lisa!" she exclaimed.

She ran to me with outstretched arms and we hugged.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I was, uh, wondering could I, uh, stay here?"

Her forehead wrinkled, puzzled. Quietly, I explained my situation. She swore under her breath, then lead me to a spare bedroom.

"Thanks so much!" I whispered.

"You're welcome. You can shower, sleep, eat, whatever. I'll tell Emily to keep it down," she offered.

"Okay. I think I may shower then sleep."

She left the room and closed the door behind her. I threw myself face-up on the soft bed. Was this affecting my baby? Somehow it was growing beneath all of this confusion and heartbreak. Would it be normal? Depressed? Suicidal? An addict? How could Ryan do this?