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I don’t want that, Mom. I want to be everything you weren’t.
I want to be emotionless and without pain in my chest.
Three weeks later.
Mom,
I got over him. I don’t go back to the nice part of town and I don’t let Callie play a clown’s role to cheer me up.
It’s fine.
I was in a temporary phase where I pretended I wasn’t Aspen from the ghetto, but I’ve woken up now.
Aunt Sharon helped in bringing me back to reality with a slap that turned my cheek red, but yeah, it’s all fine now.
I just need to throw away the scarf he gave me and the black mask I wore that night. Callie asked me to give it back, but I lied and said that I lost it.
I’ll make it up to her one day.
Twenty weeks later.
Mom,
I’m pregnant.
I’ve been feeling funny lately, more hungry than before and Callie had to steal from her dad so she could buy me junk food.
The other day, I fainted while Aunt Sharon was kicking me. They took me to a doctor, probably so I wouldn’t die on their watch. He told us I was twenty-six weeks pregnant. When Aunt Sharon asked about abortion, he said it’s illegal in New York after twenty-four weeks. She slapped me as soon as we got home and Uncle Bob punched me in my stomach.
And now they’ve locked me up in the attic and took away my phone so I can’t even see or call Callie.
It hurts, Mom. My belly hurts.
What if the baby is in pain, too? It’s so tiny and can’t defend itself in front of my aunt and uncle. What if it dies like you did?
What should I do, Mom?
I’m scared.
I swipefor the next picture, but nothing comes.
My fist clenches as I read the last words Aspen has written.
I’m scared.
Due to how mature she seemed, sometimes I forget how young she actually was at the time. She must’ve been utterly confused and terrified about bearing a child when she was a kid herself.
I know because even though I wasn’t as young as she was, the moment I found Gwen at my doorstep, I had a chaotic confusion of epic proportions. It took me months to come to terms with the fact that I was a teen father. That if I didn’t protect my flesh and blood, she wouldn’t survive. Or worse, she’d be deliberately hurt by Susan. It’s why I moved out of my father’s house even before I graduated from high school.
No amount of a grudge against Susan was worth putting my daughter’s life in jeopardy.
Gwen has always been my miracle. The blessing who saved me from my destructive thoughts, but knowing she came with such sacrifice sheds a different light on how much Aspen suffered.
I might have raised her for twenty years, but it was Aspen who protected her when she was the most vulnerable.
My phone vibrates and I expect more photos from Caroline. Instead, it’s a text from Aspen.
Nietzsche.
