My Mate or My Baby Momma? Sequel to MDOMM

Chapter 18

I've had quite a few rude messages about me not being able to post recently... I do not appreciate these types of comments. 

Writing is a hobby for me, not an obligation. I have a life, a child, house work, uni, family and so many other issues going on INCLUDING THE POSSIBILITY OF BECOMING HOMELESS, please do not try and make me feel guilty for things that are beyond my control. 

I love writing, and I love the positive comments I've received in regards to my stories; I even updated last year during my tonsillectomy recovery and while I was still in hospital. I have shown my dedication to my work. 

Please remember that. 

Anyway, past the nagging and nitpicking; I decided to update a bit sooner than intended. 

Anybody who feels the need to, I HAVE STARTED A NEW STORY CALLED 'FOREVER THINE', please take a look! :) 

Chapter 18

YOLO

Deacon POV

Daddy. Dad. Pap. Pops. Father. Old man.

I can’t take it in. It doesn’t make sense in my brain.

I ran because she didn’t know if I was the dad. I ran because I was being vindictive towards my brother because I was so hurt with this news. I ran because I couldn’t face admitting it. I couldn’t put my family through it. I couldn’t put myself through it.

And now, after all I went through- nearly dying, she knew! She never told me!

But I didn’t really give her much of a chance.

Oh fuck; I put my head in my hands and try to connect the dots. The non-existent, imaginary dots, trying to make everything right.

I am so damn confused that it hurts to think.

I nearly died because of all this! I risked my life because I had to get away.

I am so angry at Bethany for not being honest. About everything. I’m mad at her. I’m mad at my parents. I’m mad at Jack. I’m mad at myself. I’m just so fucking mad.

Why can’t I calm down?

My head spins with anger, fear of the future, and worry at telling Virginia; does she already know? Does she still want me?

Holy crap, I’m gonna be a dad.

I’ve produced an heir! With Bethany.

I’ve gathered that she knows now about who we are- more of what we are, and she is more accepting than I thought.

We haven’t spoken about anything yet, I removed myself from the situation before I blew up in her face. I needed to process my thoughts and then get back to her.

Sitting in my bedroom for, what I’m told is the first time in three weeks, I try to think; work out what happened, why it happened, and why it happened to me! But I know I can’t do that without answers.

But who is the right person to give me those much needed answers? Who can I talk to, and now want to blow up in their face?

I don’t even understand my own feelings towards anything that happened over the past month. I can’t begin to explain the trauma, the hurt, the untold damage I’ve been put through.

To tell you the truth, I want to curl up in a ball and cry. Yes, I know it makes me sound like a wimp, but you try going through all of this- then tell me you wouldn’t be overwhelmed!