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I hang up before putting my car in drive, heading home to face my parents, all while I try to figure out how to keep on my seven-year plan to become an OB while also learning the pediatric field.
Ten minutes later, I'm pulling up to my parents' house, and I instantly freeze seeing Mr. Alberto's car in the driveway. I quickly go to drive off, but my mother comes out, standing on the white porch, her arms crossed over her chest. She's wearing a gray jumper dress that goes past her knees and covers her arms, chest, and shoulders; her black hair is in a neat bun at the back of her head; and her brown eyes are narrowing at me.
I swallow hard before getting out of my car. Her face goes red seeing what I'm wearing, but it's just tough shit. She decided to blindside me with this by inviting them, not the other way around. When I get closer, she slaps me across the face, and I have to grit my teeth to stop hitting her back because this crap is getting old.
"You look like a hooker."
I look at her with a cold look and say, "And you look like an old witch."
Crap, I was supposed to say that in my head.
Oh well, I won't be here long when they realize I'm pregnant.
Her face goes redder, but she can't do anything when Mr. Alberto walks out the front door.
He frowns at my outfit. "Well, I thought I heard you, Meggy; come on in; the food is getting cold."
Meggy? Seriously, do I look like a fricking Meggy?
Mamma must see the look in my eye because she subtly shakes her head at me, making me narrow my eyes at her, and she sighs, going inside. She hates that I've turned out this way—disobedient, not wanting this life—instead of becoming the obedient little housewife while her husband cheats over and over, claiming it's what God wanted.
The church my family is involved with is not like normal Christians; I've met some, and they couldn't be further from what I've had to grow up with. This church is just full of men who decided to make women their slaves, and I won't subject my child to this. I place my hand over my stomach as we enter my parents' home. I see my father standing near the fireplace, his eyes narrow seeing my choice of clothing, but I just shrug at him.
He ambushed me; what did he expect?
Mr. Alberto's son, Abram, looks at me with a scowl before he becomes nasty.
"Now listen here, Meggy, I will not have my future wife dress like a whore. Go upstairs and change; we'll wait to dish up, and when you come down, we'll discuss your dropping out of college; clearly, it's been a bad influence on you."
Both my brows go high in my hairline. Who in the hell does he think he is?
Jackass.
I snort, "I'm not your future wife, and I can dress however I like. I'm 22, not 12, and like hell, am I giving up my dream for a molester!”
His face goes red while my father steps forward. "Listen here, daughter of mine; you will do as you are told. The wedding is already booked, and invitations have already been sent out for five months from now. It is happening, so I suggest you do as you were brought up to do and put your head down, say yes, sir, and go get dressed."
I scoff; does he not realize who his daughter is?
I never wanted this life; my grandmother never wanted me to have this life.
I raise my head high and smirk as I utter the words that will most likely tear their perfect little world apart.
"I'm pregnant."
Abrams's mouth drops open, my mother gasps while my father's and Mr. Alberto's faces go red, and I just smile wider.
"Still want me?"
Abram steps forward, but I just raise a brow and pull my phone out.
The video on record that I was clever enough to set before I got out of my car, making him stop,
"Now it wouldn't look good the priest's 37-year-old son hurting a pregnant 22-year-old would it."
His face goes redder when my mother steps forward, and she points at me and says, "You will have an abortion immediately, and we will get you in with the church's doctor to sew you back up."
I snort and shake my head before I walk over to the front door, and I turn to them all and say, "My body, my choice. I'm keeping my baby, and I won't be staying here because, knowingyou so much, one of you or your churchgoers will likely slip me something to end my pregnancy."
