Logan {district seven}CBD

It's funny, what pregnancy does to a teenage girl. To finally realize that no matter how grown up you think you might have been, tall as trees with your branches reaching toward the heavens, you as small. You are weak. You are a fucking child and you'll still cry to your mother and beg her not to tell your father. You'll still feel lost and scared when they throw you out of their home with three dollars to your name and nowhere to go.

"Go talk to the father. You're his problem now." 

(But I couldn't remember his name.) 

And I had grown up with silver spoons tucked under my mattress, with coins falling from beneath warm woolen sleeves. And the only thing more spoiled than myself was the attitude I had acquired. Entitled, bitchy, selfish. There wasn't one good thing about me and so I was empty. I was so empty that I got drunk every night and woke up in a different bed every morning. I was an idiot. I was a child.  

When she was born, it was better. She was small and sweet, named after the Aspen  sat outside the shitty log cabin I had bought with low cut pants and a pouty smile. I grew up for her, did everything I could to make thinks good in a house with windows glued shut and a lock that didn't work. 

I should have fixed the damn lock. 

And I should have fixed the damn lock.

It's funny, what burying your own baby does to a teenage girl.