The Passion of Hatred Pt. II

When I found out that I was pregnant, I was happy but at the same time devastated. I know that the person I used to be would have a lot of love to give to a child. But the bitter bitch I had become, made me sad. A million thoughts ran through my mind. Should I tell him? Should I just have an abortion without telling him? Should I have the baby? I didn't know what to do.

And I cried again. I talked to my doctor about it. He discouraged me from having an abortion explaining the risks, the possibility of not being able to conceive at a later date, blah blah blah. I thought about the whole thing for about 4 days. I decided to tell him. I felt that the bastard asshole had a right to know that he had impregnated me regardless of what I thought of him and the kind of father he would be.

You would think that hearing that you've created a life, that the act that somewhat proves that you are a man would make a man feel proud and happy. My "wonderful" news was greeted with

"Yu sure seh a my pickney?"

I tried hard to hold back my anger but I could not. I lashed out saying how could he ask such a question as if insinuating that I was cheating on him.

"I'm not like you, you know. I'm 100% faithful to you".

Needless to say, I'm sure you all know what followed. Another ass whooping.

This one ended the life of my child at 7 weeks.

I hated him. After all that had happened before, this was the last straw. This was the icing on the cake. This was the eye opener. This was the deal breaker.

This was when I finally left him.

I was free.