Growing up is 2 hard

"I wanna get back to paradise"

(July 10th, 8:00am, Thursday)
-incoming suicide mentions
Cadey's POV:
I wake feeling sore as ever after lying like a brick all night.
Thank goodness they're all gone. If I didn't have any sense, I would try again.

I wait until they bring my food making sure I don't say a word. I don't wanna talk. I wanna see anybody. I don't even wanna be here. Or there, or anywhere down here. I just wanna go to paradise.

My phone is on my bedside, but I don't reach for it. I just sit and think about everything. I'm bummed right now, no kidding. That was what I was looking forward to. Was Heaven. And now I'm back in March. Hell.

Stuck with my pregnancy. Stuck with my broken heart. Stuck with being taken advantage of and drugged. Stuck in myself.

A man walks in, Hispanic, fourth or fifty something.

"Hi, Morgan. I'm your therapist. My name's Mr. Acosta." He sits down in a chair. "I'm sorry about your attempt last night. I want to do my best to help you. Your family was very upset, as most of them, like your parents, don't know why you attempted. It's fine if you don't want to today, but the sooner you tell me what's going on. The sooner I can get you released and the sooner you can stop doing therapy. I also want to bring it to your attention that your family wants you to do therapy to avoid you being sent off to an asylum." Wow, he just threw a lot of shit at me.

We sit for a moment before I decide to actually talk to him, I spill about Heavenly and March and the baby. The correlation between the two is what hurts. The same damn thing happened to me twice.

"I think, um. I never really came to terms with the fact that I'm pregnant right now." I ended up crying. I'm trying hard to care about something just to keep death off my mind for a second.

He holds up a finger, "I can help with that."

He walks out and comes back with a baby. And a nurse.

"Oh my- how are you allowed to just-" I gasp.

"Abigail Richy-Lee. Doesn't have parents and your nineteen so you can foster her for the moment. Maybe longer, never know with babies." The nurse answers.

"But I don't have any papers or anything-"

"Your adopted, you have a stable family, a job, school. It's fine. You also don't know how long you'll keep her. You need her to help you, and your gonna make sure she's okay. She's a reason for you to keep going. And so is your other daughter that's already here, and your son that's on the way." Mr. Acosta spills. Damn he knows my whole life story.

"Wait, my baby is boy?" I smile.

"Yeah, he's okay." He nods, "I'll be back tomorrow, Morgan." And with that him and the nurse leave.

What the hell just happened? They left me with a baby, told me to take care of her, and left. Fucking left. I look down at Abigail she has a small patch of dark brown hair on her head, and freckles. Her eyes are big and black, she can't be older than a week.
I read her anklet, Abigail Richy-Lee, 7/4/24, 7lbs 4ozs

She was born on the Fourth of July. How could her parents leave her? She's a cutie. She sucked her binkie and stared up at me. Her eyes looked like she was questioning who I was the same way I was questioning her.