“How can I make time go faster?” That was all I could think to myself. Although I was with my family, all I could only focus on was the clock on the wall and how loudly it was ticking. The sound of clinking champagne glasses and mindless chatter interrupted my focus as I snapped back into reality. I’m good at hiding my emotions, I thought. I put on a blank stare and cordial smile. It was supposed to be a festive celebration, and I didn’t want to ruin their fun.

I tried to force myself to laugh and be merry, but the secret inside me kept eating away at my consciousness. It was the worst pain I had ever felt in my life, knowing that something had to get out but couldn’t. I was pregnant. My family, who was merrily drinking and having a good time around me, had no idea. And I couldn’t tell them. It would ruin them.

I had to excuse myself. The emotional pain was unbearable. On my way out, I grabbed one of the cheap bottles of champagne that my uncle had brought over and stowed it away under my jacket. As I stumbled out into the parking lot, alone, I realized that I would have to live with this emotional turmoil for the rest of my life. I was only 17, and had my whole life ahead of me. Or did I? I considered my options. First, I could hide it and possibly die from the pain. Second, I could tell my family and everyone would suffer from the consequences. They had put up with my smoking and drinking, but I knew that this would be the straw that broke the camel’s back. Either route seemed full of pain and suffering. I needed a way out.

I took swigs of champagne until the entire bottle was gone. With each swig, I felt a sense of warmth and relaxation that calmed my nerves. Some of my worries melted away, and for the first time in a long while, I felt weightless. Before I knew it, I was behind the wheel of my car. The next memories were fragments. A turn. A tree. A crack. A loud noise. Blood.

“Is this heaven? Am I dead?” Those were the first thoughts that came to my mind. My vision was blurry for several minutes until my eyes were able to focus again. I saw a fan slowly rotating on the ceiling. I couldn’t move. It was as if I did not have a body. I turned my head and saw a sign that read, “St. Mary’s Hospital – No Smoking Please.”

A nurse wearing blue appeared next to me.

“Ms. Coad, do you know where you are? she asked.

I shook my head.

“You were in a car accident.”

The memory suddenly came back to me. Family. Pain. Champagne. What have I done?

A police officer stood next to the nurse. I wasn’t able to move because I was cuffed to the hospital bed.

“Ma’am, we suspect you were driving under the influence and have the right to remain silent. Anything you do or say can and will be used against you in a court of law,” muttered the officer.

How was it possible that to escape pain? I only ran into more pain.

It was a fast trial. I stood no chance in court against the mounds of evidence and testimony. Before I knew it, I was in a county correctional facility serving a five-year sentence. I had lost everything.

I was allowed one hour of visitation a month, and my love Eric would visit for the first few months. We couldn’t touch each other, but we could see each other through the glass and speak to each other through the phone. I had put the glass in between us. It was my fault.
Then the visits stopped. I thought he would be there to support me and to help me through this experience. He had moved on. Somehow, I always knew that he would. I was on my own, in this cage, with no one to help me or save me.

In my cell, I have a lot of time to my own, and I do a lot of reflecting. My decisions led me down this path. I had no one else to blame. I had built this life, intentional or not. And this was now my reality. My family lost all respect for me, my love lost his love for me, and I lost myself. All I see, day in and day out, are the stone walls of my cell.

“How can I make time go faster?”