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I was only 17, dreaming of building a life far away from my suffocating town, away from my dishonest family. My mother lived off scams, and I refused to be part of it. But just before I turned 18, my world fell apart. I was pregnant! And not just by anyone, but by the richest, cruelest man to ever set foot in my small town. The worst part? We had never even met. Now, I have to fight for something I never had: a chance to rewrite my own fate.
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TOO YOUNG TO BE HIS 5
As if the space between us, or even the furniture in the room, could protect me from them, I positioned myself on the other side of the room, the panic growing inside me, the certainty that if my mother really wanted to inseminate that sperm into me, there was nothing I could do to stop her.“I wouldn’t be asking if there were another way. Look at our situation. A child from that man could change our lives forever. It could pay for a good college for you. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”“Mom, wake up! I’m not going to get pregnant by a man I don’t even know. I’m not going to be part of this.”“You won’t have to do anything,” my mother’s voice whispered, as if she were sharing a dark secret. She moved even closer, her eyes locked on mine, as if I were prey about to be consumed. “When your belly starts to grow, the school year will be over. You’ll lock yourself in the house and won’t leave until the baby is born.”The coldness in her words was overwhelming, each syllable sounding
Last Updated : 2025-02-23TOO YOUNG TO BE HIS 4
“You did what?!” my mother yelled, her eyes wide with anger as she slammed something onto the table.“I got it, okay? I found that bastard at the club,” Sandra replied, not hiding her defensive tone. “It was easy. He was with that woman... that blonde he’s always going out with. I approached them, flirted a bit, and it didn’t take long before we ended up in one of the rooms.”“And then? What happened?” my mother pressed, impatience growing in her voice.Sandra sighed. “Inside, I put the medication in his drink. It worked. He was completely out of it, didn’t know what was going on. We did what had to be done, but...”“But what, damn it?”“He insisted on using a condom,” Sandra said, almost spitting the words out. “Even while drugged, he wouldn’t give in. So all I got was his sperm... in the condom.”My mother snorted. “That’s not a problem! We’ve talked about this, Sandra. We have the syringe, we can do the insemination.”“I know, mom, I know! But the problem was after...” Sandra start
Last Updated : 2025-02-23TOO YOUNG TO BE HIS 3
The most common scam was when Sandra pretended to be a prostitute, luring these men to remote places where Daniel would show up armed and take whatever he could get from these idiots. It may not seem like it, but Daniel was very jealous, always showing up at the agreed location before any of the fools had time to lay a hand on Sandra. Sexual acts between her and her victims were strictly forbidden.Sometimes, they just drugged these men with prescription drugs my mother had access to through the friends she made when working at the local hospital. With the victims drugged, everything became easier for them.However, the town was small, and even though they acted in the surrounding municipalities, they were becoming well-known. Even the corrupt police officer, bribed to ignore the reports he received, could no longer control the situation due to the large exposure and attention the cases were getting. So, the option was to stop or at least take a break.But I didn’t believe they would
Last Updated : 2025-02-23TOO YOUNG TO BE HIS 2
For a moment, time seems to freeze.He lifts his head and looks around the room, his eyes scanning the space with almost predatory precision. My heart races, pounding so hard in my chest that I can feel the pulse echoing in my ears.It’s as if he knows. As if he can feel my presence, as if that piercing gaze could pierce through the wood of the door behind which I’m hiding.But he does nothing. He doesn’t approach, doesn’t say anything. He just looks away, almost indifferently, as if he’s decided that whatever is here – me – isn’t worth his attention.With firm steps, he walks to the bedroom door and exits without looking back. Only when I hear the soft click of the door closing does my body finally relax, and air flows back into my lungs. My legs are shaky, and my fingers still grip the towels as if they’re the last thing keeping me grounded in reality.But one thing is certain: as much as he didn’t see me – or chose to ignore me – the feeling that this man exudes danger, power, and
Last Updated : 2025-02-23TOO YOUNG TO BE HIS 1
Being 17 and working is not easy, but that’s my reality.I finish making the bed, carefully pressing the pillows against the mattress to align them perfectly. I step back and look at the scene, trying to find any imperfection. There is none. Everything here seems untouched.I wipe the sweat from my forehead with the sleeve of my shirt and take a deep breath. The room is huge, much larger than any room in my house. The shiny wooden floor reflects the soft light coming through the huge windows, covered by expensive fabric curtains. The walls are a neutral tone, but the finish is so perfect that even the shadows seem organized.Luxurious. Cold. Impeccable.It’s as if this room is more of a set than a space for someone to live in. Even the smell isn’t welcoming. Everything feels freshly cleaned, exhaling that artificial perfume of polished wood and flowers that probably cost more than an entire month’s worth of my wages.I don’t even know who owns this house.I only know that he is a very
Last Updated : 2025-02-23
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Being 17 and working is not easy, but that’s my reality.I finish making the bed, carefully pressing the pillows against the mattress to align them perfectly. I step back and look at the scene, trying to find any imperfection. There is none. Everything here seems untouched.I wipe the sweat from my forehead with the sleeve of my shirt and take a deep breath. The room is huge, much larger than any room in my house. The shiny wooden floor reflects the soft light coming through the huge windows, covered by expensive fabric curtains. The walls are a neutral tone, but the finish is so perfect that even the shadows seem organized.Luxurious. Cold. Impeccable.It’s as if this room is more of a set than a space for someone to live in. Even the smell isn’t welcoming. Everything feels freshly cleaned, exhaling that artificial perfume of polished wood and flowers that probably cost more than an entire month’s worth of my wages.I don’t even know who owns this house.I only know that he is a very...
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