Then reality was made apparent, and I wondered if I would ever be truly happy again. How could I after what I just did?

Whiskey, Hotel, Oscar, Romeo, Echo
Jane Doe | 2/13/08 | Student Literature

July 4th 2007
I was nervous as I put on a false front while entering Sue’s house. Then, as Sue’s face appeared around the door’s threshold, I couldn’t help but feel secure with her innocently excited visage and gesticulation. For the last time in a long time, happiness indulged me. Tonight was going to be a bittersweet night. I was spending Independence Day with Sue and her family. Jim, one of my fellow friends, was already there. It had previously been decided that our closest friends would have a get together and hold a barbeque. One by one our friends arrived uneventfully, but then I saw him walk in. The feeling was pure bliss and his deceiving eyes almost drew me into revealing the circumstances prematurely.

However the plan had previously been arranged. Two of my closest friends knew about my predicament and went to buy the necessary supplies. As the fireworks started I snuck inside Sue’s house and crept through the long hallway that was filled with happy faces on the walls. I entered the small bathroom that was decorated with oceanic designs and carried out the process. In a matter of minutes I shrank to the floor, knowing my fate, and holding the test. I was pregnant. Time seemed to sweep over me.

Sue’s knocking released me from the tortures of my mind. "You wanna watch a movie with us?" Sue questioned. "Umm I’m not feeling too well. Do you mind if I take a nap for a lil’ bit?" I replied with nervousness in my voice. "Ok, that’s fine. If you change your mind we’ll be in the living room." She walked away and I went to lie in her bed for a bit. I loved her room; the walls were painted with a camouflage. As I lay in the bed, my thoughts snuck up and began to maul my mind. Then he walked in knowing something more than sickness was wrong. He sat down beside me. "What’s wrong?" he asked, "Nothing," I stated automatically knowing and secretly hoping he would press me for answers. Eventually I caved but, instead of saying the words (which I knew I couldn’t) I showed him the test. He knew it was his and lit up with pure joy, and made me feel what I now know was a false sense of security.

August 4, 2007
I was at his going away party and that’s when I became fully aware of the extent of the betrayal I saw coming. I was sitting in my friend Tom’s room alongside the several other people that were attending the party when a guy I had become very close friends with texted me saying he "needed to talk to me about him." So I stood up and motioned for him to follow me outside. We exited through the back screen door and in a mocking manner I strolled towards a pile of wood with a grin on my face. I looked up at the sky and noticed the stars. God they were beautiful. I noticed clouds rolling in. I perceived it as a bad omen. I was unfortunately right. We both had sat down by now and my friend had a worrisome look on his face. He kept stuttering trying to get the words out. This was clearly agonizing for him. Finally, he said it with a quick sorrowful voice, "He’s cheating on you." Though this struck me hard, I kept my usual bearings and retorted with, "Psssh I’m cheating too...when I play Monopoly..." He smiled a smile that said, "I swear you’re stupid." In a matter of minutes I learned who he cheated on me with. Apparently he cheated on me with the girl I thought to be my best friend. After discovering that, I couldn’t retort back. That was a slap to the face. They had been intimately involved for a month. Like seizures one word kept repeating uncontrollably in my head. Whore. But who was I referring to? Me? Her? Him? All of us? I was two months pregnant then.

September 11, 2007
Eventually I talked with the girl he cheated on me with, and we decided no guy was worth us fighting. In a matter of days things were back to normal, and we once again had our sisterly bond. She supported me in all my decisions, even when my family suggested I consider abortion.

My mom and I drove to the Bakersfield clinic for my appointment. I required a sonogram. When I arrived to the clinic I ascended to the second floor and entered the reception area. I walked to the window where the receptionist sat behind safely. After catching her attention, the babbling employee informed me of vital information, such as the fact that if I was passed three months, then I would have to be transferred to Fresno. I was then directed to the waiting room. Waiting. Waiting for days in those damn square plain ugly detestably life draining rooms. That is when my mind spiraled back to the thoughts that haunted me. Reflecting on the betrayal brought back those enraged feelings. Whore! I faintly hear my name being called, but the disgusting blue carpet I was staring at enticed me. "Excuse me, miss it’s your turn." It was a nurse in an odd pair of royal blue scrubs."Huh? Oh okay.." She then instructed me to follow her.
Stairs. Long descending almost melancholy stairs lay ahead of me. I always hated stairs. I seemed to trip every time they presented themselves. I counted each step as I descended One, two, three, four... There were twenty-three. The nurse directed me to another square plain ugly detestably life draining room, except this time I was instructed to strip and put on a gown. It was weird when I was changing. Even though I knew I was alone, I still heard all the criticisms of people and the pointing and the looks and the gossip and then it stopped. I finished the task and waited impatiently on the cold hard exam table. I noticed the sonogram machine and felt uneasy. In that small room there sat that big machine with so many mechanisms I couldn’t comprehend. I unconsciously questioned whether I was becoming something other than human.

A new lady in scrubs walked in quietly. I hate silence. She demanded me to lay back and expose my mid-section. Her gloved hands rubbed some jelly like substance on me and proceeded with the sonogram. Silence. She eventually broke the eternal silence. "Hun you’re about four months. Do you wanna be transferred?" I nodded slowly. The screen on the sonogram had caught my eye. Did I just see what I thought I did? Were there two? That still bothers me.

September 19, 2007 4:00 a.m.
I was in a hotel by the name of "La Quinta," located in Fresno. I had completed the first part of my two day surgery, and was still able to go back on the abortion. I was in pain due to the first part of my surgery. Worst cramps ever. I was told by the nurse that I could not consume any liquids or food after midnight. I was dying of thirst.

I lay in bed listening to my Mommy’s breathing rhythm, while staring into the ever present dark abyss. An unusual feeling started to occur. Oh cracker jacks....I realized what was happening. My water was breaking prematurely. I shot out of bed and ran to the bathroom. My movements had awakened my mommy and she called to me asking what happened. From the bathroom I explained the situation. She then called the emergency number we had been supplied with. The phone was on speaker. A groggy female voice answered the phone. After a bit of talking, I was so kindly informed that I would have to wait for the clinic to open...in four hours!!! I muttered profanities. The pain overcame me. My body was screaming at me. I agonizingly crawled in to the shower to clean off. As the needles of hot water pricked my skin the pain attacked me. I collapsed and violently threw up. Once, twice,...is it over? Nope. Life escaped me once more. I stood up and turned off the shower. I went and sought relief in my bed only to find more discomfort. Tears came out along with short lived self pity. Darkness swallowed me.

A few hours later my mom and I rushed to the clinic. I was taken in immediately. An African American nurse told me to dress in another gown. She was a short stout lady with a southern twang in her voice. It reminded me of the time I read "Yeager," by Tom Wolfe. Wolfe had described how airline pilots developed an accent which exhibited a particular drawl that infected calmness into everyone’s veins. I now understood what he meant by that particular calmness the accent had. I dressed as quickly as my body would allow me in another square plain ugly detestably life draining room. I finished and mindlessly wondered into the indicated room.

I ended up in operating room one. The southern nurse helped me lie down on the ice cold operating table and assisted me in putting my feet into the holsters. I hated those blasphemous holsters. The second you put your feet in them, your legs cramped up horrifically. The entrance of the anesthetist tore my thoughts from the holsters and transfixed them. The anesthetist seemed like an all around good person, the only thing bothering me was that he was male. I endured with the pink brightening on my face. As the nurse tied a rubber band around my arm to numb it, the man struck up a conversation with me though I doubt I can remember it now. Shortly after the conversation and the tingling of my fingers, he revealed the needle and inserted it into my vein. It stung. I pondered on the unfamiliar feeling. The last time I had an IV administered I giggled. I figure it was because the IV contained morphine. (I had a severe case of what I thought to be strep throat.) "Okay count to seven," I looked at the humble anesthetist. Why seven that’s a random number? As I remembered where I was I commenced with the counting, "One, two,..." That’s all I remember.

October 3, 2007
As I lay on my bed I heard the distant hums of Beethoven’s "Moonlight Sonata" and my mind took all these recollections and unconsciously started dancing with these memories. My story seemed to be projecting itself through Beethoven’s work. The melody ended and "Ode to Joy" began. I was engulfed in feelings and realizations I’d thought lost. With a sense of triumph I now knew that the past was just that. I fight my past everyday knowing that I do have a chance of winning. I’m beating the odds and proving myself. When you see me now I seem like the one person these things would never happen too but, they did and that can never be changed. I have managed to stay on top of my grades for the first time in my life and am beginning to live a normal life again. Now I lay here and I begin to ponder exactly why I picked this subject out of the many I could of chosen to write about. I can’t really say why I did. Maybe it was because I wanted to prove to myself that I was over this, maybe to show young girls what can happen when you get pregnant at fifteen, but then again maybe I just wrote it to write. I think it was all three.