Free The Birth (The Black Wing Book 1) by Miriam Yvette

stupid for not telling her about my pregnancy sooner. I told her she has to respect my privacy as much as I respect hers.
    “There should never be any privacy when it comes to someone abusing another. You’re pregnant for goodness sake. I have waited patiently for you tell me how you ended up with this dimwit. Now I must know.”
    “I’m not ready to bring the past.” I said. “It makes my palms sweat.”
    “Have you ever told anyone?”
    “No.”
    “Perfect, sweaty palms means you are ready.”
    “Wait, that doesn’t make any sense—”
    “Tell me.” she persisted.
    I shouldn’t be surprised Ms. Clarisse would eventually ask. She reached for my hand, nodding at me for support.
    “Lola, I’m going to share something with you. I knew you were a sad little creature when I first met you.” she stated. “I thought you were a weak little thing, a pessimist, where everything that’s good or bad made you sad. Now I see that it’s not sadness. You are trapped, enslaved by those you give power to control you. You find it hard to talk about it because you can’t even let yourself free. You have to start by sharing your pain to others. Stop holding it in.”
    I nodded, feeling my heart race, not realizing these symptoms would worsen.
    “After I left my mother’s house, he was the only friend who was willing to let me move in. The streets I grew up in are dangerous, even the homeless get killed. When I lived with his parents, I worked hard to help pay for any expenses, I didn’t want anyone to feel I was dependent. As our friendship grew, his parents convinced us to marry. They only introduced that idea because my in-law’s family and friends found it weird I was living with them and not be their son’s girlfriend. I thought I liked him in that way. I didn’t want to become like my mother who had a timeline of men in her life. I convinced myself I can be his wife, even after his addictions started, after he cheated, after the first slapped crossed my face. All that mattered to me was that I was wanted by someone.”
    I looked at Ms. Clarisse with embarrassment. I have never told anyone how I felt, how naïve my thoughts were about getting married, and putting up with abuse.
    “I’m sorry Ms. Clarisse. If you see me in a different light now, I don’t blame you for not wanting me to work for you. I won’t hold it against you—”
    “Child!” shouted Ms. Clarisse “Don’t insult me. Listen to yourself. Is this how you speak at home? Are you that quick to submission?”
    Unable to look at her, I looked down at my feet and gently nodded.
    “You have been exploited since birth, and that’s all you know, being exploited by others. You were taught to only think about fearing, and pleasing others. Tell me something, since you’re pregnancy, are things slightly different? I’m sure you feel something inside you, a strength you never had before.”
    Her words surprises me—it’s like she foresees this miraculous feeling bubbling up inside me. Why wouldn’t she? She was pregnant, not just once, but three times.
    “I’m often overwhelmed with joy. I get dreams of having a boy, then I get dreams of having a girl.” My throat began to tighten. “Why does he want to destroy that? I don’t want to destroy this feeling—I love this feeling!”
    I revealed to Ms. Clarisse that I have been staying at a woman’s shelter, and that my in-laws are trying to convince me stay with them. In the end, I know it will lead back to my husband. The staff at the women’s shelter looked convinced about me living with them. His family promised he will change, and if I return, I will be allowed to keep the baby.
    “I thought he didn’t want the child? If he’s going to force you to have an abortion—”
    “It’s not that!” I cried, suddenly covering my mouth. “I’m sorry.”
    I felt ashamed for raising my voice at her, but she told me to continue. Her strong character ignored her personal feelings, and focused on