It's senior year. Maya Hart is now 17 years old and her life has begun to bloom. But, one night changes everything. After a drunken night she winds up pregnant with one of her close friends. After finding out the news Maya is faced with decisions, d...
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M A Y A
"Hi, Baby girl," Katie, my mom, says as she peeps her head through my bedroom door. I give her a small smile.
"Hi, mama."
"Dinner's ready. Come and join us." 'Us' as in her and my step dad, Shawn, who adopted me when I was fifteen, about two years ago.
"I'll be there in a few." I respond, and she closes the door as she leaves. I sigh, and make sure to hide the birth control pills in between my mattresses, where I'm sure they will be well hidden.
I exit my room and I find the wonderful aroma that hangs in the air so very pleasing and next thing I know I'm rushing to the bathroom down the hall. I shut the door as fast as I can, and throw myself before the toilet, where I puke my guts out. The vomit clings to the back of my throat making me gag a few times with so much force that my stomach begins to compress. I hate this. I hate all of this. It's the third time this week this happens to me.
After the nausea slows and then my stomach gradually settles down, I pick myself up and run my hands under the sink and wash them with a creamy lemon smelling soap. I lather my hands and watch the bubbles spread as I gather my thoughts.
How come I am constantly throwing up?
What is causing me to throw up?
Did I eat something bad?
Could it be the lunch food?
How do I know for certain it's just the lunch food?
How do I even know this birth control thing is working?
What will I do if it doesn't work?
What if im...-
A knock at the door interrupts my train of thought. I hadn't realized, but the water had become so hot my hands were turning a bright red. I turn off the water and dry my hands on my pants as I turn the door knob. My mother and dad are starring back at me as I do so.
"Maya, what's wrong?" My worrisome mother asks me.
"Yeah, you were puking out your guts, kiddo." Dad says, a worried expression on his face as he places his hand on my mother's shoulders.
"I'm fine." I lie. "Must've been something I ate at school."
"Are you sure you're alright?" My mother asks me. The tone in her voice evidently a worried one, as if she was expecting for me to spill.
