Page 61 of SnowBound

My heart sunk in my chest. “I am not. You can’t force me to get married. This is so wrong. It’s not nineteen-thirty anymore. Doesn’t my happiness mean more than your morals or values?”

My father looked at me as if I was the biggest mistake he ever encountered in his life. “You are a child of our god, Abigail. And we’re not going to disrespect him because you were reckless for a night and let your desire rule your better judgment. You should know yielding to the temptation of flesh is a sin.” They exchanged a glance. “We’ll give you a choice. Here and now. Either you do it our way—like God intended you to live your life—or you’re not welcome in this house anymore, and we’re cutting all ties with you. Our god will deny you as one of his children, and we won’t be accomplices in your depravation and lack of respect for the core values we taught you all your life. I can’t preach his values if my own daughter can’t keep her legs crossed. What would your mother and I look like? It will discredit us in the face of everyone. We would appear weak. The citizens of this town, this state, and this country look up to us. And if our own daughter can’t set an example for the youngsters out there, it leaves us with no choice. You and that bastard won’t ruin the political career I’ve worked so hard to achieve.”

I stuttered when I asked, “W-what?” Not sure I heard him right. In what era did my parents think we were?

“If you marry or give the baby away for adoption, we’ll help you through this. If you don’t, then you’re on your own. And you’re no longer part of this family.”

“Wait, you would disavow me because you’re ashamed I got knocked up by a decent guy?”

My mother gasped. “Language. You’re not knocked up but with child.”

Chills traversed my entire body. This was certainly worse than any scenario I had come up with in my mind every time I thought about how this episode of my life would go down.

My mother pressed the back of her hand against her forehead like she was about to faint. “I still can’t believe this is happening. We’re being punished. All of us. For your indiscretion. How could you betray us like this?”

“No decent man would ever turn away from his responsibilities.”

This was a prank. It had to be.

“You should find him if you’re so sure he’s deserving of you. Perhaps he’ll do the right thing by you and this child.”

“I can’t. I tried.” Shame grew in me as I admitted the ugly truth. “I don’t know his last name. I have no way of contacting him. I’ve been looking for him, but this country has over three hundred million people.”

“Abigail, I can’t believe you let a man trick you and steal your virginity. There’s a special place in hell for such men.”

“I’m not—I wasn’t—”

My mother lifted her hand to silence my protests. “Stop. We heard enough. What will it be, Abigail?”

“I’m…I’m not giving up my baby. Forget it. And I’m not exiling myself to Europe either.”

Her stare turned glacial. “Then you know what to do. You must be gone by Wednesday night.”

“How? Where? Can I at least get some time to find a place to live? And a job?”

“Sorry, you made your choice. We won’t encourage your poor actions for another minute. We shouldn’t be punished for your wrongdoings. And the sooner you leave this house, the lesser the risk of someone finding out.”

“What about college? Since I can’t attend next semester, they revoked my grant. I can’t continue without funding…”

“Right now, you’re choosing to go on with the consequences of your acts, which means, we’re no longer supporting you or your education and will not pay for your tuition fees. We disagreed with the grand idea of college from the beginning, and you just proved us right. Once again.”

“They corrupted your soul, young lady.”

I blinked, my heart lodged in my throat. “You serious?”

“Yes. We are. As your mother said, we won’t be accomplices in your sinful life.”

As if I never mattered in their lives, my parents cast another disappointed glance at me before my father left the room to go to his study to read and my mother cleared the table. The same way they did every night.

I neared her by the stove. “Mother. Can we talk about this?”

She remained mute.

Tears streamed down my cheeks. “Mother. Please. I’m your daughter. It must count for something.”

No words. Only an icy silence wrapped around us.

I tugged at her sleeve, hoping for a reaction. Something. Anything. “Please.” My voice was a breathless plea. “I need you. How am I supposed to do this all on my own?”