It was an accident. Why anyone would think I'd want to have a kid on purpose is beyond me. I was a Junior, for God's sake. It all happened at a party I went to, to kick off the beginning or Junior year. The coolers in the kitchen were iced and filled with beer, and my favorite kind, too. Pretty much all of us were underage, but we all drank anyway. After about 3 or 4 drinks, my head started getting foggy, and I couldn't see straight. Knowing I was tipsy, I went to find Brandon, my boyfriend, to drive me home, but he was under as well. He took my arm and led me into the guest bedroom, locking the door behind him. He push me up against the wall, and pressed his lips to mine. What happened after that is dark and fuzzy, because I was too drunk.
I do remember the next day quite clearly. I remember the hangover, and taking a lot of aspirin. I remember Brandon's mother on the phone, urging me to come as fast as I could. I remember racing to his bedside, seeing his body torn and mangled by the front of a Semi. I remember the way his eyes dully lit up when he saw me. I remember telling him to hold on, to stay with us. I remember seeing the light slowly leave his eyes as he closed them one last time. I remember being escorted out, and sitting in my car for the next two hours, staring at my steering wheel. I remember the hurt. I remember.
