Chapter 1.
My baby suffocated during childbirth. The
doctor recommended a C–section.
I begged my husband, Kevin, to sign the
consent form, but his mother stopped him. “A little squeeze will make the baby smarter,”
she sneered. “It’s a girl anyway, just like her
mama – a high school dropout. Better off
dead.”
I didn’t make it out of the delivery room. My
baby died a month later, suffocated.
Then, I woke up. I was sixteen again.
My phone buzzed. Two unread texts:
“People are biased. Love isn’t something you
can ask for; it has to be given freely.
“”
“Your parents are just ordinary people.”
After I died, my spirit lingered, following
Kevin.
red face when the docter asid
L
I saw his stunned face when the doctor said,
“I’m sorry, we lost the mother. The baby
survived, but he suffered from prolonged
oxygen deprivation. He might have developmental delays or epilepsy.”
I heard his mother’s callous remark: “So
what? It’s just some trashy girl. Why make
such a fuss?”
She only went ballistic when Kevin clarified
that it was a boy, albeit one with potential
disabilities.
“Impossible! Her belly was so round, it had to
be a girl!”
But the facts were undeniable.
Kevin’s mother attacked the doctor, wailing
about how he’d killed her precious grandson.
My mother, arriving late, didn’t ask questions.
She demanded $80,000 from the hospital or
she’d sue.
Incredibly, the hospital paid.
<
I thought they’d give the baby the best care,
but he lived only a month. His own father
smothered him with a pillow.
Floating behind Kevin, I yearned for revenge,
but it was futile. I faded into nothingness,
consumed by hate.
Then I woke up. Sixteen again.
I’d argued with my parents about dropping
out of school to work, ranting to Kevin, a
“knowledgeable” older guy I’d met online.
He always replied instantly, adding vague,
flattering comments that made me feel…
special. He cared. He noticed me.
“People are biased. Love isn’t something you
can ask for; it has to be given freely.
“”
“Your parents are just ordinary people.”
His next words flashed in my mind.
“Lots of girls without degrees do fine.
Education doesn’t matter. Especially for
women. A pretty face gets you far, even
L
without an education. You’re a high school
student, it’s different. Men, even with PhDs,
still struggle to support a family.”
“Dropping out is fine. Let me show you the
world.”
Naive and inexperienced, I’d fallen for his
nonsense. Pressured by my parents, I’d quit
school.
With $200 from my mother, I set off to find
work, stubbornly refusing to contact Kevin. I
struggled in the big city.
Kevin texted constantly, offering platitudes
like, “There are plenty of talented people, but
few who recognize them.”
Compared to my parents‘ criticisms, his
comforting words were more appealing.
I stared at the screen, hatred burning in my
eyes.
“A guy who got kicked out of college for
breaking the law pretends to be a doctor. If
<
you look down on women, just say it! Stop
beating around the bush!”
“Trying to lure a minor? I’ve got screenshots.
You’re finished.”
After his furious reply, I sent one final
message and exited the app.
