A sliver of light shines through the so called “blackout blinds” in Melissa’s room on a dewy Monday morning. She groans, realizing not only that the blinds she spent $40 were a piece of s***, but that her week would be no better. As she slides out of her bed in her hello kitty pajamas, her mom yells up to her, “Come on Melissa! You can’t be late again!”

Ugh. Another week of pure hell, she thinks to herself as she drags her weak body to the bathroom. She flips the light on in her bathroom, wincing as the brightness pierces her tired eyes. In the mirror she sees dark bags under her eyes, swollen cheeks and as her eyes travel down, the bloated stomach of someone six weeks along.

It has been six weeks since that not so “magical” night with her boyfriend Clay, yet the effects of her drunken mistake were making sure they wouldn’t go unnoticed.

She sighed as she lined her sunken, sleep deprived eyes and attempted to make herself look like the Melissa everyone used to idolize. This is not who I am, she thought to herself as she prepared for the rough day ahead.

She marched downstairs apprehensively, preparing for her first battle of the day, this time against her parents. As she turns the corner to the kitchen, her hand grazes the familiar etchings on the frame. In the kitchen, she is greeted by the judgmental faces of her parents. As she strides in and takes her place at the breakfast table, the tension seems to hold a physical presence of its own, demanding to be acknowledged.

“How did you sleep?” her mother offers.

“Fine, better than usual I suppose” she lies.

“Listen” offers her father “I know that things have been tough on you since the recent… calamity, but your mother and I have been talking and we think it’s time for you to get a job. I mean, you will need some money to get on your feet if you want to buy an apartment for you and your, uh, baby.”
The silence that ensues is the loudest she will ever hear.

“I thought we agreed you would help me…” reasoned Melissa.
Her parents exchange glances, hoping to pass the guilt off to the other.

“When you made the choice to be an adult, we made the choice to start treating you like one; surely you understand, Honey. We can’t have you living here in the state you are in! You have to think about how it will be affect us” murmured her mother.
Nothing else needs to be said. Her mother’s words cut her like razors and left her with scars reminding her of how she’ll never be good enough. Melissa collects her dish of half eaten oatmeal and tosses it in the sink, losing her appetite.
On her way out the door she takes note of the etchings on the wall displaying her growth over the years reminding her of a time when growing up was all she wanted. As she rounds the corner of her kitchen, she finds herself waiting for her parents to call out her name and retract their harshness, but she sees silence is her only company now.

S*** she thinks as she feels the small bit of oatmeal she has eaten resurfacing. Making a dash upstairs she trips on her hello kitty pajamas that she failed to toss in the hamper earlier. She picks them up now and attempts to toss them in the hamper, but comes short and they glide rightfully into trash. Bent over puking, she realizes that she will be late for school and heads back downstairs leaving her childish pajamas in the trash where they belong.

Keys in hand, she makes her way down the stairs and out the door to her silver Camry. As she unlocks the door she notices her reflection in the tinted window of her car, and the pregnant girl staring back at her is not the Melissa she felt herself to be.