The shock was overwhelming: he found out I was pregnant and left me like a coward!
My name is Emily Smith, I’m 20 years old, and I live in Windermere, where the grey skies of Cumbria blend with the shadows of the forests and lakes. I hesitated for a long time about whether to write to you, but after reading other girls’ confessions, I decided to pour out my pain. My story is a wound that won’t heal, a shadow that haunts me, poisoning every day of my youth.
It all started when I was 15. I fell for a guy, Ethan—he was so handsome, he seemed straight out of a dream. His eyes, his smile—all the girls at school secretly swooned over him. I couldn’t believe my luck when my friend whispered that he wanted to meet me. “Are you serious?” I asked again, my heart racing like a bird trapped in a cage. I agreed without hesitation. At our first meeting, he gave me a red rose—I’ve kept it, dried, between the pages of an old book. That evening was like a fairy tale: his voice, his warmth—I was lost in it, not realizing I was falling into a chasm.
I gave myself to him—and that was my fatal mistake. Soon, I found out I was pregnant. My world collapsed. My parents, upon learning, looked at me as if I was a stranger: my dad was silent, his fists clenched, while my mum cried as if I had died. I was terrified, trapped, with no way out I could see. And he, Ethan, my charming prince, abandoned me like a coward. Upon hearing about the baby, he turned pale, mumbled something unintelligible, and vanished—as if he had never existed. I was left alone, with this fear, this shame, this burden that crushed my youth.
A deafening silence settled at home—more fearful than shouting. My parents turned away, choking on their resentment, and I didn’t know where to run. Eventually, with my mum’s consent, I had an abortion. It was hell: pain, tears, emptiness. Afterwards, I withdrew into myself, like in a coffin. The shock was so profound that I couldn’t look a boy in the eye for years. I’ve had no one since—no dates, not even a hint of feelings. Love became poison to me, and sex a nightmare from which I wake in a cold sweat. I’m terrified of getting pregnant again, scared that if it happens, I’d have to give birth, and this fear freezes me to the core.
I’ve lost myself. My soul is like a broken violin, playing only melancholy melodies, echoing my grief. I live in solitude, in eternal sadness, where there’s no room for joy. The sun has set for me, smiles have become foreign, and my shadow is like a ghost watching every step I take. I’ve forgotten how to talk to boys, how to meet their eyes without trembling. My voice shakes when someone speaks to me, and my heart tightens with dread. I’ve become an icy statue—cold, fragile, unable to feel warmth.
Sometimes I look in the mirror and don’t recognize myself. Where’s the girl who laughed, dreamed, believed in love? Ethan stole her away, crushed her, leaving me only with pain and fear. I walk the streets of Windermere, see couples in love, and inside, everything screams: why not me? Why is my life darkness? I want to love, I want to live, but every time I think about it, his face looms before me—handsome, deceitful, cowardly. He left me at the worst moment, and that shock still echoes in my heart.
I don’t know how to escape this hell. Fear binds me in chains: afraid to trust, to open up again, to relive that nightmare. My youth should be filled with light, yet I drown in despair. Friends invite me out, but I hide at home, in my room, where only the walls know my pain. My parents forgave long ago, but I can’t forgive myself—for my naivety, for my weakness, for believing him. My rose in the book is a reminder of the day I lost everything.
Please, tell me, how do I go on living? How do I melt the ice that encases my heart? I want to be free of the past, but it holds onto me with a death grip. I’m only 20, yet I feel like an old lady, my life over before it even began. Ethan’s gone, but he left me this burden—fear, loneliness, emptiness. How do I find the strength to believe again in love, in people, in myself? I’m tired of crying into my pillow, tired of being afraid. I want sunlight in my soul, but I don’t know where to find it. Help me, please, I’m drowning in this darkness and can’t see the light.
