Hallelujah.

I woke up this morning, feeling like I always do on a Sunday; tired, slightly disorientated and with bad hair. Little did I know that whilst I was sleeping my own father had crept into my bedroom. He invaded my privacy by rummaging around in my possessions and he stole from me. But not only did he steal my journal, he stole my most secret and treasured thoughts , my memories and feelings. I found him sitting at the kitchen table with the sacred book bound in scarlet leather carefully placed on the table in front of him. I was furious. But that was nothing compared to him, he had a fire burning in his eyes as he stormed around the kitchen shouting abuse at me. Boy was he mad, but about what? I could make head nor tail of it, until he mentioned Jacob’s name. He said “You are a Christian girl! Christian girls should not even be considering the things you have written about! Who is this boy Jacob you keep bringing up?!” but what happened next was much much worse. He held up his right hand, it was grasping the pregnancy test.
From then on the events merged together and it ended in my running away, but now it was about to start again. I shook myself out of the flashback. The best policy is honesty, I would not get away lightly with this and I had to accept it, but still fear played havoc with my digestive system and I could feel the acidic fluid rising in my throat as I descend the staircase.