*All content is fictional and purely for advocating what I believe is right*

My story is quite simple. My name is Marrisa Larson and I'm 16 years old. When I was 8 years old, I asked my mom if she would ever have another baby. I was an only child and I really wanted a baby sister. But She said “Hell no. Pregnancy hurts like a bitch." I totally understood cause I absolutely hate pain too, I guess that's what we have in common. Dad left when I was 3 or 4, he never said why but I can imagine it was more because of mom than me. Mom can be... a lot sometimes. She's never really mean but just very outspoken. Doesn't take no for an answer and won't say anything but no to you either. Anyways, back to the story. I get sidetracked real easily. So I asked her if she would adopt a baby instead. She said she didn’t want another child, that I was perfect and more than enough. And when I asked her if I could adopt a baby, she bought me this baby doll. I took great care of this thing. Everywhere I went, it went with me. I pretended to feed it all the team, and splashed water all over it. Luckily it was a bald thing, no fake hair or anything but it's little cotton clothes are really gross by now. I hid it in my bathroom a couple years ago so none of my friends would see it and think I'm weird. But when I was 12, I begged her to let me adopt a real baby. She said “honey, you’re 12.” She said I could adopt a baby once I was old enough to carry one of my own.

I’m 16 and I’m not sure how to tell her that… I already am. I don't want her to be disappointed in me, then again, it wasn't really my fault. But she loves blaming everything on me. She says it's good for me to learn to take responsibility for all of my actions but sometimes I just don't want to. And in this case, I don't think I should have to.

A couple months ago, my mom got this new job here in Kentucky. I don't even really know what she does, something with tech, but she doesn't make too much money from it. She'd make a whole lot more if dad's court mandated child support was a little larger but alas, it isn't.Honestly, I was really excited about it. I was kind of the… weird kid at my old school. But when I came here, I started fresh. I started wearing sluttier clothing and putting on more makeup. And it actually worked! During my first week at my new school, I met this group of guys in my history class. And they’re “that” group, you know, the cool kids everyone wants to be friends with. They’re also the kind of boys that adults tell you to stay away from. They drink and smoke but they’ve never pressured me into anything I didn’t want to do. Except for that one time Billy tried to get me to have sex with him but when I told him I wasn't ready, he said that it was alright and to tell him when I was. They’re good people, they really are. They’ve just got a bad rep. A couple weeks ago they invited me to this party and it was really fun. I drank a lot, wore this skimpy little black dress, and met this really cute guy, Sammy. After an hour or so of talking he brought me upstairs. I don’t remember whose house it was, or even who was hosting the party, but the room Sammy took me into had a crib in it. And unicorn stuffed animals everywhere. It had pink and purple painted walls. I was raped in that room. But... that's not the point of my story. It really isn't. I think rape is a really strong word. It wasn't too violent sex or anything, I just didn't want it too bad. But honestly I enjoyed it a little bit, and Sammy definitely did too. That's just how our bodies as humans work, really. When I went home that night, I told my mom what happened. She looked me up and down and said “well look at what you’re wearing”. And, in Sammy’s defense, it was a really inviting dress.

But a few days ago I missed my period, and I started to feel really nauseous and tired all the time. So I asked Mike, one of the more responsible guys in my friend group, to grab me a pregnancy test from the store.

Two pink lines.

I had him grab me two more, just to be sure.

Two pink lines.

Two pink lines.

6 pink lines.

I don’t want to have a baby anymore. I’m finally starting to get really good grades and make friends. I kind of want to be a doctor when I’m older too. I can’t go to med school if I have a child.

When Mike gave me the pregnancy tests at school today, he told me not to worry too much. He said everything was going to be just fine, that this is God’s plan.

But looking at these pink lines, all I can think about is Sammy’s skin on mine. His eyes, the way they looked me up and down, the way he pinned me to the soft pink carpet of that nursery and covered my mouth with his hand. I just want to forget all of it. But what if the baby has his dark, blue eyes and soft, blonde hair? What if it has the same smile Sammy has? What if Sammy wants to be a part of its life? I don’t want to be a part of Sammys life.

I can get an abortion. I can just… not have the baby.

Does that make me a bad person? Killing an unborn baby? Defying God’s plan? But- but I have a plan too. I was going to go to University, marry someone sweet and kind, and start a family with them. I want to start a family with them, not Sammy.

I drive to Mike’s house and I ask him to drive me to the nearest planned parenthood. I barely made it to his house with how badly my hands were shaking. Mike though, he’s a great guy. He gave me a big hug, nodded, and drove me to the clinic.

I had him wait in the car.

I don’t really know how these things work, but I’m hoping they could just give me a pill or something. I’ve only been pregnant for a couple weeks. Mom never has to know. Sammy never has to know. And I trust Mike to take this to his grave.

I explained my situation to the lady at the front desk and her eyes well with tears.

Then she explains. I tell her thank you and I leave. I can hear her sniffling as I walk out the door and I'm a little offended. Why is she crying when it's me who now has to live with this for the rest of my life?

This is what she told me. Abortion is illegal in Kentucky. It’s illegal in most states. And the states it’s not illegal in… I don’t have that kind of money. Mom definitely doesn’t.

Mike gets out of the car. And he walks towards me, arms out like he wants to hug me. But all of a sudden, all I can see is his muscles that look too much like Sammy’s muscles and his hair, his blonde hair that looks too much like Sammy’s blonde hair.

I don’t want to have a baby. I don’t want to be a mother, not yet.

Why is it that I wasn’t allowed to adopt a baby at 12 but I’m forced to have it now?

I don’t want a baby. Mom said pregnancy hurts like a bitch and I- I don’t want to feel that pain. I’m not good with pain.

It’s not fair! I didn’t ask for this, I said no to this. I said no to Sammy!

I said no. I promise I did.

I get home at 2 am. Mom’s asleep but I’ll deal with that conversation tomorrow.

I go to the bathroom, grab my old babydoll from the cabinet, and hate myself for ever wishing for this.

Do you think I’ll be a good mother? I sure hope I am. 

But I might not tell Sammy. I don't want him in my life, I hate him. Then again... I'll need the child support.

I should have never gone to that party.