Dahlia's First Experience: A Narrative Fiction

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Sleep wasn’t something that came easy to me. Stress was always pressing itself down on my burdened shoulders and my mind was always swirling with disasters that would probably never plague me. Yet, when sleep did manage to work it’s way through my frazzled brain, it was welcomed and appreciated. So when the harsh beeping of the alarm clock began to blast, I felt annoyance bubble up in the pit of my stomach as I was brought back into reality. My arm, which felt as heavy as a block of led, tried to reach for the button before I could realize it. I slammed my fingers down, and heard an audible, tiny popping noise as my knuckles only felt the wooden night table. I let out a stream of curse words, my heavy eyelids barely opening to look at the damage …show more content…

My grip on her tightened. The other mothers knew. Somehow, they knew how young I was. They must have figured out that I was, what, 16 when I had my dear Dahlia? And they call her a mistake? Why would they do that? They didn’t know my situation, who I was, where I came from. And my child certainly didn’t deserve their nasty words either. “They’re cruel,” I didn’t realize how harsh my voice was until Dahlia’s sobs became louder, “b-but honey, you’re not a mistake. Momma would never regret you. Ever.” She looked up at me with big green eyes, “you promise?” and I nodded, kissing the top of her head. “Promise,” I stood up, swooping an arm under her legs to carry her to the car, “now wipe those tears, momma’s here to make you smile,” and I earned another watery giggle as her tiny fists reached up to rub away the tears. My mind tried to block out the thoughts of the cruel, middle-aged mothers happily scrutinizing my daughter for something that wasn’t her fault, wasn’t mine either. It wasn’t my fault because it wasn’t supposed to be a problem. I sighed, pushing aside the fury as I buckled my daughter into her seat. No more “sobbing because of gossiping mothers” time. It was time to man up and go to

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