For Mom to make such a statement, I instantly knew that her demand for me to get an abortion had nothing to do with my health and future, and everything to do with her.
My suspicions were confirmed when she bit out. “You will not continue to embarrass us.” She looked at my Dad. “Go get the wheelchair. We’ll take her over to prenatal care ourselves.”
Dad immediately exited out into the hallway. He returned a moment later with a wheelchair.
Mom waved her hand at me. “Get up.”
“No,” I said.
Her brow lowered. “Get. Up,” she said, more forcefully.
My body immediately tensed to comply. In the past, I would have done anything to gain their favor. I worked so hard, day after day, to make them proud of me. But it had never been enough. Not really.
I could never compete with my perfect Luna s
