Estella

Chapter 13

I sit in the living room with my parents, forced to face all I've stayed silent about.

They know a lot about what has happened.

But not even close to everything.

There is a lot I kept hidden from them.

No one wants to tell a parent that for years someone has been throwing their child around like a rag doll.

I don't want to show them the bruises that cover my arms.

Or the scars that cover my body.

I am embarrassed.

And I don't know why.

I don't know what I'm so ashamed when none of this was my fault.

I never asked to be put in this position, I never got a choice.

I have tried not to cry through most of this, for some reason.

I have held back my tears, not wanting to seem weak.

But after all of this, I think I deserve a good cry.

I should probably tell them what I'm leaving out.

Although I have told them the worse details of the situation, I don't want to tell them this.

I don't want them to know that their daughter has been getting beat on a daily basis for nearly four years.

It's bad enough that they know everything they do.

But this may help to strengthen our argument.

It might help us win.

And at this point, that is all I care about.

Because I'm not winning for myself.

I'm winning for my child.

I'm winning for the safety of my just myself, but others too.

I am just so grateful that my parents are so supportive of this.

I am happy that they support my decision.

I could never raise a child without them helping me.

The three of us all sit in the living room, just figuring everything out.

"Is there anything else we need to know, Es, anything that can help?" My mom asks, wanting to know anything I've left out.

I sign as I roll up my sleeves, exposing my forearms.

Bruises cover my arms, there doesn't seem to be a single spot that isn't black and blue.

All form him dragging me around.

If only they saw my face without makeup on it.

"He did this?" My mom asks with wide eyes.

I nod, "He usually just drags me around, and he likes to use a really tight grip." I explain to her.

"How long have those been there?" My mom asks me.

"About three and a half years." I admit.

"I am the worst." My mom states, dropping her head into her hands. "How could I have never noticed any of this?" She asks herself.

"Mom, it's fine. I'm the one who kept myself isolated from everyone." I tell her.

I should have just talked to them.

I never should have shut myself out.

They would have helped me.

They would have support me through everything.

Maybe, if I had just said something, then maybe things would be different.

Maybe then, I wouldn't be where I am right now.

But as much as I hate where I am.

I'm not sure I would wish I wasn't where I am.

As weird as it sounds I'm kind of happy.

I can't imagine my life without this child in it.

It's weird, the second I found out I was pregnant, I suddenly replaced my life with the life of this child.

They are all I care about.

And I would never wish them away.

Sure I always wished my first child would come from different circumstances.

But I would never wish I didn't have them.

I cannot wait for the day my child is born, all I want is to meet them.

And soon I can find out the gender, boy that I care, but I am excited to find out, to start shopping.

As not ready as I am for my life to be over, to give it to someone else, I am at the same time?

I don't know, this whole situation is just crazy.

I am going to be giving my life to another being.

I already put my child above myself.

I just can't wait until they are born.

"I'm sorry." My mom tells me. "I just feel so stupid." My mom tells me.

"Mom, it's fine." I tell her.

"After everything I went through in high school, I should have realized, I should have seen the similarities." She says.

By the way my dad is looking at her, something clearly happened that I was never told about.

"Mom, what are you talking about?" I asked here.

"Back when I was in high school, I kept a lot hidden from everyone." She admits. "I would always keep myself away from my family, to keep was I was hiding a secret." She says, causing me to also see the parallels. "I just feel like I should have noticed more than I did." She tells me.

"But what happened to you?" I asked, curious.

She can't just leave it there.

"I mean, our situations were really different, for me it was anorexia." She admits.

Suddenly, it's like everything makes sense.

My mom has always been a bit weird when it comes to food, and she likes to make comments about herself and how she looks.

But I never would have guessed she had an eating disorder.

"I died, for a few minutes I was dead. I locked myself in my room for long enough to let myself die. I weighed under fifty pounds." She tells me.

"When was this?" I ask her, I know my parents have been together for a while, and my dad seems to know all of this.

"It started probably sophomore year, but senior year is when everything got really bad." She tells me.

That means it all started a couple of years before my parents started dating, but my dad was there when it all got bad.

He had to witness my mom go though all this.

He had to experience her dying.

But she was able to get though it.

And I know I'm going to be able to get through this to.

Happy Tuesday! School starts soon, so there's that. And I have plans everyday I'm not working for the next two weeks, so that's fun!