Isla
This afternoon is unusually quiet at the hospital. The arrival of the new medical director seems to bring a new and much-needed calm, Tyler Knight… When I met him a couple of weeks ago, I felt a shiver down my spine, a sense of déjà vu. If the last month has taught me anything, it's not to trust my emotions; I never intend to do anything on impulse or without thinking.
Not in my wildest dreams did I imagine, at nineteen years old, being in this situation. It's overwhelming how quickly and senselessly this whole experience has been. A month ago, after an exhausting shift at the hospital, while waiting for the bus, I smelled the most delicious scent of cinnamon and honey I'd ever had the opportunity to smell. The curious thing is that when I searched for the epicenter of this delight, I saw the most beautiful man I'd ever seen: tall, perfectly tanned skin, blond hair, beautiful lips. When I looked into his gorgeous green eyes, I felt myself get lost in them, and, oh my God, he was looking at me too.
I blushed, my hands grew damp, my knees nearly gave out to the point of falling. Then: another level! His hands held me by the waist, and pleasurable waves of electricity erupted from his hands, surging through my entire body. I can't explain the intensity of that sensation, the pleasure, the delicious rush of lust, of adrenaline; it was a mystical experience, and only five seconds had passed.
The intense sensations his touch and closeness produced are something I can't explain, much less what happened next. I don't know how I ended up in a hotel with a stranger, giving away my virginity. All my beliefs, all my morals were contrary to this, and yet, it happened. Ethan is his name, and although the feeling of guilt for having so casually discarded all the morals of my life is very strong, I can't deny that I enjoyed every one of his kisses and his touch on my body. However, his gaze changed after he had me: disgust, disappointment is all I could see. Surely he thinks I'm an easy, promiscuous girl.
This past month, we've slept together in my bed, though he hasn't touched me again. It's strange to share a bed with someone you don't know and who has no intention of getting to know you. I feel like I'm a comfortable pillow to hug at night; we don't talk, we don't go out, he just lies next to me at night and takes me to the hospital in the morning.
Yesterday, we had a brief conversation before leaving my house:
—I'm pregnant, it's yours —I said shyly.
He didn't respond and didn't appear all day. Last night, for the first time, he didn't come for me, nor did he come to my house. This morning, a text message:
—We'll talk this afternoon, I'll pick you up at the end of your shift at the hospital.
That was it. Now I'm a bundle of nerves. I thought the hospital routine and pace would be enough to distract me, but I hadn't counted on how quiet the day turned out to be. So I'm enslaved by the clock, glancing at it every two minutes.
Only minutes remain to define my future, and I don't know what I truly want or can expect. I think it's best to have the child and raise it alone. I don't want to tie Ethan to me; I know he doesn't love me, though I don't understand why he wants to be next to me at night, but that's not enough to raise a child, and I would never abort by choice—that's not an option. God, give me the strength to speak and say what I want; sometimes I feel like this man, with just a touch, snatches away my will.