My hands run down, and over the little bump that is now taking form of my stomach. My heart overwhelms with this strong ease of love I’ve never quite felt before, a love so strong my heart aches with longing and disbelief. How could they think of this as awful? To think of giving another life, a chance to live, awful? How could they possibly except for me to kill it, or to even give it up? This little bump is now a part of me, a part of who I’ am. I won’t kill it, or give it up. I simply refuse.

They all look down on me, some with pity, some with self disgust, and some with disbelief. I know what their thinking, but I keep my head held high dispite it all. They all think the worse of me and they have yet to know me. Not taking the time to understand me, to know me, only to criticize, label and to judge me for what lies under my shirt.

I wish, wish they take a walk in my shoes, then maybe they'd understand. Understand that it was one night of weakness, a night they just felt right. I don't regert it, not at all, for this thing that lies under my shirt is not a mistake like they all think, but a miracle. A miracle that shall and will change my life, for better or for worst. Not only has this little miracle that lies under my shirt, in my belly, changed my life, but me, as a person.

"Abigail, your barely seventeen." Mom says. "You have the rest of your life ahead of you, do you understand that?"

Among all the other people, my mother is also another who looks down on me, never taking the time to listen, only to judge.

“Yes, mom. I understand.” I say. "But do you?"

And I do understand, but she doesn't. She never has, and she probably never will.

"Are you going to keep it?" Hartley asks, running his hand down and over my stomach.

I stare into his green eyes, and reply with a simple "Yes."

he nods at this, like he knew the answer all along.

And in a way I guess he did, just as I did. I knew from the start I wasn't going to kill or give our little miracle up. What right do I have to play God? To not give this baby inside of me a chance to live? None, none once so ever because everyone, everyone deserves a chance at life, to live, love, to hurt, to grow.

THE END!


Author's note:

Thanks for all the comments, and support! It makes me smile [:

However, I won’t be adding more, at least not now, maybe later after I get done with my other stories I might make another story of this but a longer one :D

MAYBE.

But this, this is a short story, I truthfully don’t know how to go with more of this because the whole idea of writing this was for everyone to understand that just because, um you know, she’s not a slut, and that everyone needs a chance at life, to live and grow. Because well if you had sex and got Prego, your fault, you shouldn’t kill it which is what I believe because what gives you the right to play god and such?

And no I’m not Prego or anything like that so don’t ask me: that’s why its called a story! But my 15 year old cuz is and she didn’t give hers up or anything so I was thinking about that when I wrote this, and also I got the ‘Prego teen’ topic offline, NOT the story lone, only ‘Prego teen’ because someone told me that’d make a good topic. [: