The Diary of Alice Quinn

I hope you understand why I couldn’t tell Zach that I was carrying his baby.

Because if there was little chance that he would pursue his dream with me as a reason to stay, no doubt that he would throw that business card away with me and a baby coming along.

He would stay for me and the baby. I would never be able to live with that. But if I kept my pregnancy a secret, it would not be long until I begin to show.

So I had to something.

I sat down and thought hard for a very, very long time. The decision I was about to make was utterly crucial. How should I get Zach to leave me?

After a while I knew what I was going to do.

I tell him that I’m pregnant with someone else’s baby; someone I had sex with at the party. My reasoning would be that I slipped out of the tree house after we made out and I tripped and fell. Robin Corrison (a notorious sophomore that I had paid all my savings to say that I had sex with him) had found me on the grass and helped me up. Drunk as I was, I did it with him and “maybe” a lot of other boys that night.

Once I told Zach two days later in an empty hallway, he refused to believe me. But I swore. I gave him that look that meant I was telling the truth.

Zach asked me if I was raped. If I was conscious. I told him that I wasn’t; that I was aware I was actually there. That… I loved every moment of it. I told Zach that Robin and I have been secretly seeing each other after my cheer practice when Zach was at home taking care of his newborn sister.

That did it. That was enough. Even if it broke my heart and tore my soul into a million pieces, I was contented.

The next day I heard that Robin was found unconscious in a dumpster with a bleeding head. I did not need to think twice about his attacker. The next week, Zach left Little Meadows.

I’m tearing up a little bit now. Because I miss him. It’s been months now, but I still crave for his voice, for his touch, for his scent. I want his strong, reassuring arms around me again. I cannot begin to tell you how hollow I feel right now, despite of the human being that is growing inside me.

Sometimes I see him on TV. He looks different now; a lot happier, a lot more liberated. He looks free. I watch him play with his band and I close my eyes, I remember the old times. I remember those summer nights we spent on Crescent Hill or in the backseat of his car. I remember when he would sing me to sleep. I remember when he would sing to me when I was sick, or when I was upset over something petty.

I remember the times when he loved me.

I wonder if he thinks of me. I wonder if any of his songs are about me. I wonder if he closes his eyes and remembers everything that happened, all the good times, not the bad. I wonder if he sleeps alone in his bed or is he cuddling with someone new. Most of all, I wonder if he really believed me when I said it was someone else’s child. Zach knew when I lied.

That didn’t matter, anyway. Everything is the way it should be.

But why do I feel so hurt and broken inside? Why do I feel like I’m about to wither and die? Why don’t I care about the future at all? Why don’t I care about anything anymore? Why is my life filled with such bitterness and misery? I can’t laugh anymore. I couldn’t even smile. I’m tired. I’m so tired. My heart hurts. My feet are hurting and swollen.

I live in Rosie’s house now. I’m so thankful that her parents have decided to let me stay and help me with everything. Rosie’s mother is the biggest help.

Why am I here? Well, of course, Zach wasn’t the only person I had to spill the beans to. There was my mother, who has always been stern and proper. She was the most perfect example of a Christian woman. And she believed in celibacy, of course.

There is no need to describe what she said and what she did when she found out about it.

So I’m left here in a town in Pennsylvania that no one knows about. I’m left here, waiting for him. I’m left here, mourning the loss of my life. But that’s okay, because a new life is coming for me. My baby’s life.

Rosie thinks she’s a girl. I think so too.

Once in a while, I pray that he’ll come back to me and he’ll see our baby and realize I lied for his own good. And maybe he could apologize to Robin.

I guess this is sacrifice. It’s true what they say about sacrifice being the hardest thing in the world. But the thought of doing it for the one you love makes everything easier.

Maybe this diary would be good for me after all.