DISCLAIMER: I don't own it.
A/N: Yes, I'm finally writing. Yes, it's M-rated (not a word, Liss).
This is the prologue - enjoy!
There have only been two defining moments in my life, so far. First happened when I was six and a tall man in a police uniform came to my house and explained to me and my dad that my mother was dead. That some teen aged drunk driver didn't stop at the red light and killed my mother. The kid only scratched his car, while my family's life got turned upside down.
My dad couldn't spend another minute at our old house. He quit his job, packed up our things and we were heading towards New Mexico the next day. Good thing my dad was the only heir for his parents business company and we were kinda rich. Okay, we were more than rich, but that's not the point right now.
The second defining moment happened today.
No, it wasn't because today was my last day as East High wildcat. It was because about two hours ago, I watched a tiny line turn pink.
Not blue, pink.
And that only meant one thing.
I was knocked up.
And this was all because of that stupid basketball captain with his stupid blue eyes and even stupider brown hair. Why did I have such a weakness for blue eyes? And brown hair? And that fucking basketball – that, I decided, was the stupidest thing.
I sighed and gave my X-Men pillow another punch. I used to love that fucking pillow, and now every time I looked at it I would remember that line turning pink. After smoothing my hand across the pillow – I had to, of course, make sure that it understood that it wasn't its fault that I punched it, I finally got out of my bed. My stupid bed, where that stupid blue-eyed, brown-haired, basketball captain popped my cherry, and apparently knocked me up at the same time. There was only one solution; I would have to burn that bed.
I checked myself in the mirror and decided that I didn't look like woman who was with child and I could go wait downstairs, with my father, for the man who put me into this blessed state. He would probably be expecting me to wear something otherthan my Ghostbusters T-shirt and jeans, because we were going to our last high school party, but I was pretty sure that after I told him about my situation, he wouldn't really want to party.
I walked carefully down the stairs, which I usually would have skipped, but I was walking for two now – which meant that I had to start being more careful. I would have to kiss my dreams of becoming a bungee instructor good bye.
At the end of the stairway I shielded my eyes from the picture of my mom 'cause I was pretty sure that she had that judgemental look in her eyes that she always had when I did something bad. I'm telling you, she really changes looks even though the boy next door laughed at me when I told him this. I was eight and he was ten at the time.
"Hi, daddy!" I said all brightly and fake, when I found him sitting on the kitchen table with a book in his hands. I was always good at that faking cheery and happy. I should've been a fucking cheerleader.
He raised his eyes from the book, took one look at my smiley face, before taking a deep breath and closing the book, "Are you going to tell me what you did now, or do I have to wait for the phone call from school?"
I rolled my eyes, "Dad, today was the last day of school, the teachers won't care if I do something anymore."
"They would, if you broke into their cars and put a chicken in each of them."
"I didn't put chickens in my teacher's cars", I opened the fridge and got a coke, "They were frogs, much easier to get rid of."
My dad let out a laugh and then quickly covered it with a cough, "Ellie, that was very wrong – you need to start taking things seriously. Otherwise you'll be never taken seriously."
Poor daddy didn't have ANY idea that soon everyone would take me very seriously. No one was taken more seriously than a fucking mother. Or maybe the president was taken more seriously.
My dad opened his book again, "So where are you off to with that boy of yours today?" Dad never was a big fan of my boyfriend, and after I told him what he did to me, he never would be, "You are going somewhere with him, right?"
I shrugged, "I don't know yet, I think we'll probably spend the night just hanging around here."
"Okay", dad nodded, "Just as long as the door stays open." He turned the page, "Oh, you know who just came back from college for the summer?"
My face stretched to a shit-eaten grin, "Seriously, he's back?"
He smiled at my smile, "Yes, I talked to Annie today, apparently he's excited to tell you all the stuff about Yale, since you'll be joining him in the fall."
Well that wiped the smile off my face – I didn't even thought about the fact that I wasn't going to be able to go to college with a huge stomach and morning sickness, "Yeah, college", I just muttered.
My dad raised his eyebrows, "You okay, Ellie?"
Luckily I heard the annoying honking sound of my boyfriend's pride, I muttered a quiet, "Saved by the horn", and rushed through the front door, carefully not looking at my mother's picture.
As soon as I shut the door, I heard a loud, "Hey, baby!" behind me a turned.
There he was.
The father of my child.
He was leaning against his white piece of shit truck with that adorable smile on his face. I sighed with relief, this was going to be okay, I thought while walking towards him, he was a good guy, he would stay with me and help me with this baby. It was his baby too and he wouldn't abandon him or her. I hope it was a her.
I smiled brightly when I reached him and wrapped my arms around him, "Hi, sweetie", I said against his lips before pressing mine quickly against his.
He broke the kiss after a while, "So, are you ready to go. Didn't you say you were in a great need to get drunk this morning?" He smiled at me.
Yes, I did say that, but that was before I found out about the human growing inside of me, who didn't care much of alcohol.
And here we go.
"Honey, I need to tell you something before we go." I took a deep breath before looking at his blue eyes, "I'm pregnant."
His eyes pretty much popped out of his head, and then his arms dropped from my side like I had electrocuted him. So far, this wasn't going too well. Then he finally blinked before relief came to his eyes, "Well it's only been like three weeks since we did, so you can still get rid of it, right."
What? Would you mind repeating that?
He clearly took the disbelief in my eyes as something else, "It's all going to be okay, baby – you can still go to Yale and I can still go to UCLA and become a NBA star. This little baby accident won't matter." He pressed a kiss on my forehead, "I can even book the abortion appointment for you."
That's when I lost it.
I pushed him away from me – with quite force, if I may say so myself – and he stumbled 'till his back hit his shitty truck. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" He only blinked like a stupid mother fucking owl, "I'm not going to get rid of my baby! I'm going to fucking keep it and teach him or her everything about comics and awesome pranks! There's no way that I'm going to get a fucking abortion!"
He still blinked fucking idiotically, before his face turned into a frown, "Then you'll have to keep it without me! I'm not going to get my life ruined by some pregnant girl! I'm going to go to California and become famous."
This was not how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be supportive, he's always been so supportive of me. "Tr—".
"No, Gabriella! I'm done with you. Hope you and the brat have a wonderful life together." He jumped into his car, "And don't even contact me again!"
Asshole wasn't going to get away with it that easy, "Fine! Go to the fucking UCLA and break your fucking leg!" I yelled, "And just so you know, your dick is small and you've never made me orgasm!"
Then he sped off.
And I collapsed and started sobbing.
Thank God, the asshole didn't see me cry.
I didn't even know how long I sat there CRYING like a fucking baby, before some sat down next to me and wrapped their arms around me. I looked up, and there he was.
The boy next door, who was two years older than me, "It's going to be okay, Gabs." He whispered and rubbed his arms up and down against my arm.
I wiped the tears away, "Hey, I heard you were back", I tried to smile, but I was pretty sure that the smile was pretty fucking pathetic and watery.
He just smiled gently and kissed my hair, "Do you want me to call Trevor?"
Even mention of the shithead made me want to throw up, "No, definitely do not call him."
"Oh, Gabi, every couple fights – you'll make up," he comforted me.
Another treacherous tear ran down my cheek, "No, we won't." I took a deep breath, "I will not take him back, even if he begs."
I looked up at his beautiful blue eyes.
"I'm glad you're home, Troy."
And I was, because Troy always made me feel better. He would probably help me through summer to come up with baby names and then when he had to go back to Yale he would call me every week and ask how I was doing.
But still, at that moment, I knew that I was going to be alone with this baby. Just me and my Remy or Jean.
Yes, I was going to name the baby after a comic book character. Got a fucking problem with that?
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