Page 50 of Filthy Savage

“What! No. The test has to be wrong. I used a condom. I always use a condom.”

“Well, they don’t protect from pregnancy one hundred percent.”

“Oh God.” My face falls into my palms.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Emily curls her arms around me.

“We’ll leave you to it,” the doctor says. “Take your time. But I do suggest making an appointment with your gynecologist.”

“She will. Thanks, Doc.” Emily tightens her arms around me while tears fill my eyes.

I can’t have a baby. I’m not cut out to be a mother. I’ve never had one to show me what to do or how to be one. I took care of myself.

On top of that, if I keep this baby, I’ll have to move. How will I afford that?

But there’s no other option. I won’t raise my baby with my mother. I won’t allow her to grow up the way I did. That’s nonnegotiable.

She will have more.

AGE 8

“Mommy, I’m hungry.”

She laughs with her new boyfriend. He pours white powder on the table and sniffs it.

“Mommy!” I shout, my stomach growling again.

I had a few slices of bread yesterday and some cookies I found where she keeps her snacks.

“What?!” she shouts, grabbing her boyfriend by the back of the neck and kissing him. When she pulls away, she stares at me. “So go eat! What the fuck do you want from me?”

“We don’t have anything in the fridge.”

“So go make something! My God, do I have to do everything?”

You do nothing.

I don’t say that. I just walk back to the kitchen and figure out what to eat. Opening some cupboards, I find a box of ziti.

I’ve never made pasta before, but how hard can it be? She’s done it.

There are pots under the oven, so I grab one and fill it with some water, then pour the pasta into it. Carefully turning on the stove, I wait ten minutes like the box says, watching the water bubble.

If I can cook, maybe they’ll let me live by myself. What do I need her for?

When I hear them making noises, those kinds of noises, I rush to my room down the hall and grab my earplugs. At least they work.

When the food is done, I grab a fork and throw some pasta on a paper plate, eating on the floor in silence.

It would be nice to have a table. But Mom sold ours.

CHAPTER 12

AMARA

“Don’t be nervous.They’ll love you!” Emily grabs my hand as we head up the steps to this new waterfront Italian restaurant that opened up in Boston.

I really didn’t want to come, but she insisted I needed something to get my mind off this pregnancy. She arranged a girls’ night with her friends Lilith and Patricia, who she was dying for me to meet.

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