But she showed no affection for the unborn baby either.
Every day, I watched my daughter standing on the balcony
with a bottle of beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
“Emily, you’re expecting a baby! How can you behave like this?”
She wouldn’t even turn around.
“Mom, I never asked to become a mother. Just because something happened to my body doesn’t mean I have to love what was done to me.”
Her words broke my heart.
One night, my daughter came home at four in the morning. Her shoes were covered in mud, her hands were trembling, and there were red stains on her white
shirt.
I was terrified.
“Where have you been?”
“Don’t ask.”
Over the following week, she disappeared three more times. Each time, she returned completely exhausted, but there was a strange determination in her eyes.
Meanwhile, I noticed that the baby clothes I’d bought for my future grandchild had disappeared from her bedroom.
