When I tried to stand with Ava in my arms, the pain bent my body forward and I whispered that this was inhumane.
That was when my mother lost her patience completely.
She stepped closer, grabbed my hair, and pulled me forward while shouting, “Stop whining and get out of my house right now.”
The pain shot through my body and I cried out, feeling the strain along my surgical wound.
My father sighed loudly and said, “Take her outside already because she is making a scene and I cannot stand it.”
Ten minutes later Brittany arrived with a stroller, a large bag, and her usual confident smile.
She looked at me and said, “Finally I get my own space without all your drama filling the room.”
I do not remember clearly how I made it downstairs, because everything felt blurred by pain and humiliation.
I only remember Ava crying, my vision shaking with tears, and the cold air hitting my skin as I stepped outside with one hand on my abdomen.
At that exact moment Eric’s car turned the corner and stopped abruptly when he saw me standing on the sidewalk.
He stepped out quickly and looked at my shaking hands, my tangled hair, and the faint blood staining my nightgown.