The pain I felt that night was endless. I sat on the edge of my bed, staring blankly at the shadows on the wall, trying to make sense of everything. Yes, I knew my father had never truly been there for me—he barely noticed my existence—but never in my darkest imagination did I think he would raise his hands against me. The sting of his violence lingered like a brand on my heart. I buried my face in my palms and wept until my body shook.
Somewhere between my sobs, a reckless thought took root: the only way to end this nightmare is to get pregnant. I was only eighteen, too young to even imagine such a thing, yet the idea burned through me with frightening clarity. At that moment, it didn't matter how outrageous it was.
I tiptoed out of my room, my feet cold against the tiled floor, and froze when I saw her—my mother—sitting alone in the living room. Her shoulders were hunched, her hands trembling as she held a knife. My heart nearly stopped.
"MOM!" I screamed, rushing forward. The knife clattered to the floor as I wrenched it from her grip.
Her tear-stained face lifted to mine. "Kendra… I'm sorry," she whispered. "I've failed you as a mother. I can't even protect you."
"Don't say that!" My voice cracked, the words torn from me with desperation. "Look at everything you've done for me—all the times you've shielded me from that monster. You've stood up for me more times than I can count."
She shook her head weakly. "But he's still your father."
"Father?" I spat the word like venom. "Don't call him that. How could you even marry someone like him? Didn't you see the red flags before it was too late?"
Her eyes clouded with memory. "I saw them," she admitted softly. "But he always came back with flowers, always promised to change. His parents convinced me it was just a phase. I thought things would get better when I got pregnant with you, but instead, it became worse. He hated the sight of me. His anger… his fists… they nearly killed us both. The beatings sent me to the hospital. That's how I had you—premature and fragile."
I gasped, my heart splitting open. "Mom… why didn't you leave? Why didn't you save yourself from all this torture?"
Her lips quivered. "Because of you, my dear. I wanted to leave so many times, but then I found out I was pregnant. I couldn't bear the thought of you growing up without a father."
I laughed bitterly through my tears. "But I did anyway. I grew up with him—and it wasn't a father I had. It was a tyrant."
She lowered her gaze, her voice breaking. "It wasn't intentional. When you were born, he dragged you away from me. He thought you wouldn't survive because you were so small. He hired Grace to care for you and kept you from me. My breasts ached with milk I could never give you. I called Grace every day, begged to see you through a screen. And when he discovered it… he nearly blinded me."
"Mom…" My throat closed with grief. "You endured all of that?"
"Yes," she whispered, tears dripping onto her lap. "And still, I've failed you."
"No, you haven't." I grasped her hands tightly. "That's why I've come up with a solution."
Her head snapped up, alarm flashing in her eyes. "Don't you dare say you'll run away. He'll find you. You know he will."
I shook my head. "I'm not running away. I'm going to get pregnant."
Her face blanched. The silence between us was deafening. "What?" she gasped. "Kendra, are you insane? Pregnant? At eighteen? Who would even—"
"It's the only way, Mom," I interrupted, my voice low but steady. "The only way to make him let go of his ambition. It's the only way I'll ever be free."
Her tears fell harder, her body trembling. "Is that truly the only way left? Then… then we need to bring Grace into this." She clutched my face as though it was the last time she'd ever see me whole. "I'm so sorry, my love. I've failed you."
"Stop it, Mom," I whispered. "You're the best gift God has given me. I already texted Aunt Grace. She should be here any moment."
Right then, the door opened. Grace stepped inside, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the knife on the floor. "Good evening, ma. What's going on here?"
We told her everything. She listened in silence, then exhaled heavily. "But who, Kendra?" she asked finally, her voice sharp with concern. "Who would you even want to get pregnant for?"
I hesitated, then dropped the name like a stone. "Stephen."
"What?!" they both exclaimed in unison.
"Yes, Stephen," I said, my cheeks burning. "I have feelings for him. I was going to tell you both anyway."
Mom clutched her chest, shaking her head in disbelief. "This is madness. We need to know if he'd even agree to such a thing. Kendra… this is beyond dangerous."
I lowered my eyes, shame and stubbornness warring inside me.
What a life.