“You’re a Monster, Mum! Kids arent for people like you!”
She kept studying, drowning in books to escape the chaos. One night, she went clubbing with friends and met Richarda handsome Londoner whose parents had gone abroad for work. She fell hard, moving in with him almost at once.
They lived large, funded by his parents cheques. Every night was either a party out or a rager in. At first, Eleanor loved it. But soon, debts and missed lectures piled up. She failed her winter exams, teetering on expulsion.
She swore to change, cramming for retakes. When Richards mates turned up, she locked herself in the loo. She scraped through but begged him to slow down. “Its our final year,” she pleaded.
“Dont be dull, Eleanor. YOLO, yeah? Youths fleeting. When else will we have fun?” he scoffed, swirling his lager.
She lied to her mum, claiming theyd wed properly once his parents returned. The shame of cohabiting gnawed at her.
Then, nausea hit during lectures. Dread coiled in her gut. The test strip confirmed itshe was pregnant.
Richard insisted on an abortion. They fought like never before. He vanished for two days, then staggered back with a drunken blonde clinging to him. Eleanor screamed, shoving the girl toward the door.
“Shes not leaving. You are, you mad cow!” he snarled, striking her cheek.
She fled to uni halls, mascara streaked, face throbbing. The porter took pity and let her in.
Richard came begging forgiveness, swearing itd never happen again. For the babys sake, she believed him.
She barely passed first year. Fear kept her from going homewhat would Mum say? But staying in London terrified her too. Richards parents were due back, and her swollen belly betrayed everything.
When they arrived, his father cornered her: “What kind of dad would he be, eh? All he cares about is piss-ups. And whos to say its even his? Take the money and go back to your village. Its for the best.”
Humiliated, she refusedthough shed regret it later. Richard stayed silent. She packed her bags and headed to Mums.
The moment Mum saw her belly on the doorstep, her lips curled. “Back alone, then? Not married, I see. Had your fun with the city boy, did you? He give you anything?”
“Mum, how can you? I dont want his money.”
“Then why come here? We barely fit as is. I thought youd landed a posh life. Now youre knocked up. Where dyou expect us to put a baby?”
“Us?” Eleanor whispered.
“Ive a bloke now. Younger. Raised you alonenever had a life. Now I do. He wont fancy sharing a flat with you.”
“Where do I go, Mum? The babys due soon.”
“Go back to the father. His problem.”
No warmth, no mercy. Just cold dismissal.
Eleanor slumped on a park bench, sobbing. Nowhere to go. Not even her own mother wanted her. The baby kickeda tiny plea.
“Eleanor?” A voice cut through the fog. Sophie, an old schoolmate, took her in.
“Stay with me. Mum and Dad wont be back till autumn.”
Two days later, Sophie returned buzzing: an elderly woman at the hospital needed a live-in carer.
“The daughter wont take her. Say yesits a roof.”
Eleanor hesitated but agreed.
The daughter, a haughty woman, offered no wages. “Grans pension covers expenses. But the house stays mine.”
So Eleanor moved in with Mrs. Whitmore, tending to her as her belly grew. When little Matilda arrived, the old woman even rocked her to sleep.
Time passed. Matilda took her first steps, but Mrs. Whitmore faded. At the funeral, the daughter hissed, “Out. Now.”
While packing, they found a willthe flat was Eleanors. The daughter raged, but neighbours vouched for Eleanors care.
With a home at last, she raised Matilda in peace. Years later, Mum reappeared, claiming illness, the flat sold for treatment. Pity made Eleanor take her in.
Until she overheard a call: “Shes not listening Skimming rent money Be there soon”
All lies. The flat was rented out to fund some blokes lifestyle.
“Mum! Youre a monster! Lying again!”
“Wait, its not what”
“Get out.”
Sophie soothed her: “Cant choose family. Shes still your mum.”
Eleanor relented, but Mum had already fled. Later, when illness truly came, Eleanor nursed her till the end.
Hate breeds hate. If a mother wont love her child, what love can she expect in return? But the mother
