Lindsey pov
I walked into my room with tears dripping from my face down to the shirt I was wearing. I could feel the wetness of it because I had been crying so much. I started crying from Mom's presence, and even while in the taxi, I cried till he dropped me off at home.
My whole world and what I am is crumbling before my eyes every day. I can't find the smile that I grew with on my face anymore because of sorrow. I barely have the time to think straight because many decisions have been forced and made on my behalf recently.
"Your brother must not die. You have to do everything you have to do to save him," Mom's words went from pleasing to force. She threw away her pretence to make me feel like she was pleading into a command.
I questioned her decision, and I told her that I couldn't do it. She shed a few tears before my eyes while pointing at the dying Andrew, reminding me of how they took me from the orphanage to take care of me. She reminded me of every good thing they've done for me and left the days they made me cry without consoling me behind.
It didn't stop there; she went ahead to remind me of how much Andrew meant to them and even showed to my face that I didn't have a choice but to do whatever they said. It's like I owe them a lot for taking me away from the orphans to comfort themselves.
She forgot that I was the reason why they had a smile of joy on their lips after keeping sadness in them for five years without a child in their marriage. I came and made everything seem worth living again. She even got pregnant with Andrew after I became a part of their lives.
While she was pregnant with Andrew, I was there to listen to all she had to say. I was there to massage her toes, even at my little age, and I would sing lullabies for her to fall asleep. All of those were things I did to show how much I loved my parents and the baby that was yet to join us. I was curiously waiting to have a sibling.
Andrew won't die; I don't wish for him to but is it worth ruining and risking my life just for him? I'm their child, too, and I've not been able to talk myself out of believing that. They were the reason why I started believing it.
"They will be coming over tomorrow, and I will inform them that you've agreed to do it for us," I screamed to her face, and I yelled the shout of pain and unbearable torture that I couldn't touch with my bare hands.
"Please don't do this to me, Mom," I pleaded with tears rolling down my eyes. I can't do it. She needs to go back on her decision to do this to me. I need to look for Dad wherever he is and remind him that I am too young to go through childbearing pain. I can't be forced into doing this with a stranger.
"Do this for us, Lindsey. Do this for your only brother," her tone was manipulative, and even the tears in her eyes screamed manipulation to my face. I bit on my trembling lips and blurry eyes that were filled with tears.
I'm getting forced to be a surrogate mom at a young age. For someone who hates me and stole everything that ever belonged to me away from me. He came into my life and made it unbearable. I'm being forced to save his life while ruining mine.
I don't know which of them hurts the most. Was it the pain of my parents sacrificing my future and life for their biological child (What if I die from childbirth pain?)?
Was it the pain of saving someone who has always hurt me since he found out that I'm not his biological sister? Was it the pain of being forced to do this with a stranger? It's the pain of everything.
Every single part of my body cried on behalf of the pain that my heart was feeling, and the more I yelled when I crashed into my room, the more I felt my whole self getting lost in unbearable pain.
Maybe I need to sleep. Sleep and wake up to see that it's all a terrible dream and none of this is happening. I probably got so engrossed with Mom caressing my head that I had a nightmare because the devil was jealous of the love she was showing to me.
Nothing about this should be true. None of it is happening. I probably overslept and overthought in my dream. I need to wake up and face reality now. The reality is that I'm going to a university and not carrying a stranger's baby.
*
I woke up hours later because of the constant bang on the door. My eyes forced themselves to open weakly, and my hands and body tried curling up from the ground that I passed the night on.
A quick rush of adrenaline went down my body and made me sensitive to my reality again. Everything that happened yesterday filled my head, and I sneezed out the remaining mucus because of the so many blockages from my nose.
I tried standing because whoever was knocking didn't have the patience to wait for me to appear. My head banged hard and I fell back to the ground. The dizziness and the strong headache reminded me of how many tears I let out before falling asleep in the pool of my tears.
Pity. I felt pity for myself as I struggled to get up with the help of the wall before I started walking slowly out of the room. My right hand held my head in place and I shut my eyes against the feeling that was going through my head.
All this pain for only me, and yet, things don't seem like they'll get better. I finally made it to the door, and when I opened it, a set of eyes I had not seen before stared into mine.
I know I looked miserable right now, and anyone can barely recognise or guess what I've been through, but the stares weren't necessary. I would have yelled at them for it if I was in the right state of mind.
They were three boys, obviously younger than me by their appearance. The one at the back stepped forward and I noticed the rude look on his face before he said to me, "We're here to see Andrew," he stated without offering me greetings.
I let go of my head and faced them properly, wondering if I should let out my pain on them or bear the insult once again. "He isn't home," it was a simple reply but it seemed not to sit right with them.
"He hasn't been coming to school," another one said. He is short and he has a dyed hair. His appearance looks like a burnt powder.
"Because he has not been around," My weak voice snapped at them and I held on to the door firmly. It won't be long before I'll shut it on their face.
"Is that why he's not been picking up?" The first boy spoke like I was some sort of a question-answer robot. I didn't reply. I glared at him very hard and he returned the gesture.
Just when I was about to bang the door to their face because their presence and mannerless attitude irritated me and reminded me of Andrew, the one that hadn't said anything yelled, "We'll come back to check on him,"
I closed the door on their faces after hearing. If I knew it was them who was by the door I would not have bothered waking up from the sleep that was helping me manage the pain that I was feeling. Andrew seems to have friends that match his attitude. Very rude and mannerless. If only they knew what he's presently going through.
It feels like I am the villain in my own story. I'm getting treated badly and I'm taking up all the pain like it's meant to nourish me instead of causing me heart aches and shattering me.
I didn't bother to go back to my room. I sat on the couch and allowed tears to start falling from my eyes as the remembrance of the problem that was waiting for me tomorrow hit my thoughts.
It doesn't seem like help will come from anywhere. Dad always listens to Mom; talking to him won't fix anything. They've planned it between themselves before I was told about it. Even my permission is not what they seek; mom only told me so I won't be surprised to find myself before people I haven't met before, and the next thing is me going back home with a seed that's yet to grow in me.
They are ruining the plans I have for my future before my eyes and I can't do anything about it. I don't want Andrew to die and I can't kill myself to escape from everything. I can't run away because I don't know what danger is out there waiting to lure me in.
Becoming a young mother when I was still growing up was a nightmare I never thought about. What happened to the thoughts of keeping myself till marriage and building a good family with my husband? What happened to willing deciding that I'm ready to start having kids? What happened to me making the decision I want for myself? What happened to them thinking about what's best for me, for once?
I'm in so much pain and consolation isn't coming from anywhere. Even the write-ups on the frame in the parlour say, "GO FOR WHAT YOU FEARED THE MOST," is it indirectly supporting my parents, or am I overthinking what isn't possible?
*
An older woman that I'd never met before stood before my eyes in the ward where Andrew was laid for our eyes to see his condition and finalise whatever deal my parents had forced me here to agree to.
"You're Lindsey?" The woman asked like she wasn't told about it. Her red lips parted and curved into a smile as she reached to touch my hair, but I stepped away from her touch.
"Lindsey," Mom's warning voice called out to me, but I didn't stop moving away from the strange woman's reach. She finally stopped trying to touch me when she was tired and I sighed.
Everyone present in this room, including myself, is here to destroy my life, and I'm watching it take place. My womb is about to be used as collateral to save someone who hurts me deeply.
"Didn't you say she's twenty-two years of age, Mabel? She looks older than that," The woman told to the lady that she came with before my eyes. Mom and Dad had already told them everything about me.
"It makes it easy for her to bear the heirs," The second woman said with excitement in her voice. I twitched my mouth in distaste. By their clothes and appearance, I know they are very wealthy. Wealthy enough to pay for Andrew's surgery bills without demanding anything, but no, the devil sent them to destroy my life for me, and they were happily doing it.
"Have you started seeing your period?" The first woman asked. I rolled my eyes, but it laid on Mom's pleading eyes for me to say yes. I gulped down the heavy breath down my throat and I nodded my head as an answer to the question I was asked.
"At what age did you start seeing your period?" She asked another question. Being in her presence was a force, but I declined to answer some questions because I knew Mom wouldn't want to embrace herself by screaming in their presence. I didn't reply. I'd rather set my eyes on the reason why I am going through all these right now. Andrew.
"Age 16," Mom answered them. I snapped my eyes to her face but she wasn't looking at me. I appreciated the fact that she felt ashamed of herself, too. Her body language didn't hide it from my eyes.
"Is she a careful girl? Not too clumsy or wayward?" The first woman seemed to be the one who was more interested in digging deeply into my life. I hate her for what she's doing to destroy my life even if her face looks beautiful to my eyes, she's doing wrong in my eyes with her actions.
"She's very careful. I trained her, and I can assure you of that," Mom boasted about me, but I know it's not to appreciate me. She was setting a trap for me and making it look beautiful in my eyes.
The women didn't fail at frustrating me with many more questions until I felt they didn't have anything else to ask about again. Mom did the answering of most of the questions. All I did was glare and roll my eyes as much as I could.
The final decision that was made was for me to prepare myself for the surrogate appointment, and I should make myself available after I am called upon.
My eyes filled with tears, but I wouldn't let out a single tear in their presence. Not when my pillows are waiting for me to be back home and let it out on them.