It’s 7:39PM and I just got home from a long day at work. I sat in my office chair complaining in my head about how sore my breasts were today. I sat on the toilet at home, peed for 5 seconds onto this little white stick. Stupid little white stick. I placed it on the sink and I closed my eyes while I waited. Something came over me. I started to think about the time that I found out I was pregnant. 5.5 weeks to be exact. And I remember crying. Just like I was at this moment. Except last time I was scared. In a Walgreens bathroom. I walked outside into his car and told him. He started to cry too. “I don’t want kids.” “I’ll pay for it to go away.” He said. I was 21 and I could barely pay my rent. He paid it. I could barely keep food in my fridge. He filled it. A few days later sitting in planned parenthood, she asked “Did anybody pressure you to do this today?” I didn’t answer. And that night I sat in agony and pain while the medication ran through me and ended my life-a part of it. His abuse started mental. And then it turned physical. And I could take it. But that innocent part of me couldn’t. But I didn’t defend it. And then 2 weeks later I left. I left the abuse and the pain behind. It’s been 3 years. I’m about to get married. I want to be a mother and a wife. And I can take care of myself. At this point I’m still on the toilet with my eyes closed and I began to pray. I said I was sorry over and over to God. I begged. I apologized. I cried. I promised to do the right thing even if I had to do alone. And then I opened my eyes and I saw it. My apology was not accepted. Not today.