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He didn’t tell me…

How I felt at the time…

Scared, alone.

How I feel now…

Haunted yet not regretful.

My story…

I was 19. It was 2012. I thought I was in love. I was very vulnerable at 19, I just wanted love. I never had a conversation about sex or protection with my Dad who raised me. My stepmom only said “if you get pregnant I’ll kill you. I started dating a guy that I hated at first. I just got terrible vibes from him and now I know. He was a bad boy and I slowly fell for him. He had previously gotten a girl pregnant and told me how he attacked her online and in person because she got an abortion. Me being stupid and young brush it aside. I had sex before with boyfriends, but it was different with him. He never used protection and I couldn’t get birth control because I still lived at home on my parents insurance and my stepmom said no birth control no sex at all. I didn’t have anyone to talk to and honestly didn’t think I could get pregnant. The pull out method worked right? But he always was ripping my pants off to have sex and then would stop because he back hurt. He said he couldn’t finish because of the pain. I believed him. I should have realized it was a lie. He was trying to get me pregnant. He would say he couldn’t finish when he already had. I couldn’t feel it, I couldn’t tell. Is it my fault for trusting him? Is it my fault for being stupid? I found out I was pregnant and attacked me too. He broke up with me and said I was lying. He had all of his friends attack me online and in texts. I had no one to turn to. My own best friend said it was my fault. I couldn’t tell me parents because my stepmom always said “I’ll kill you.” Lost and scared the only thought in my mind was abortion. I made an appointment and didn’t show. I called the one person I thought I could trust, my high school sweetheart. He took me to the abortion clinic, past the people screaming at me for being a murderer and held my hand as I cried slient tears. I went into the room and sat on the table. I will always remember the single spot of blood on the floor. A permanent mental reminder of what I’ve done. I laid back and looked at the sunset poster hanging on the ceiling. I had to be held down by two nurses as I screamed in pain. When it was over I went to the car and cried. Cried for what I did and mostly because the shame I felt about how relieved I was. I never talked to the coward who got me pregnant, but three years ago he had a son with another girl. That was his goal. His family left him and he wanted to create his own. I still haven’t told anyone except for my husband. It’s a scar I live with, but don’t regret. It kills me, but it was meant to happen so I could find myself and a healthy life.

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