You are a teen mom. Some guy knocked you up at the ripe age of fifteen, and left you like nothing. You are now sixteen, and your baby is a few months. You still went to school, but obviously not a lot of people knew you had a baby. You knew people would start all kinds of rumors about you, and names. Only a few people because they knew how to keep secrets. You got a job, and lived on your own ever since you got pregnant. Your parent(s) always treated you like shit anyways and kicked you out. You and the baby were all you guys had. Until you had met Johnny. You had first met Johnny through school, when you sat next to him in a class. He was struggling, and you were somewhat friends with him, so you could tell. You offered to help him out, and he hesitantly accepted. He was nervous, especially since he did not talk to you a lot. But he grew a liking to you. A strong one. He found himself forming a crush on you. Finally, when he built up enough confidence, he asked you out. Of course you were hesitant. What you went with less than a year ago had you stressed. But Johnny was a really nice guy. And very respectful. And you really didn’t want people finding it weird if you didn’t. So you said yes. After a few wonderful and loving dates, he asked you to be his girlfriend. You said yes to that, too. One day you guys were supposed to meet each other at the park, but your babysitter canceled on you and you might have had to bring your baby with you. Scared and terrified because you had not told Johnny you had a baby, you thought it would be better if you did not meet him. That was a terrible plan because he knew where you lived and instantly got worried. So he walked to your house. When you heard knocking at the door, you didn’t think anything of it. With your baby in hand, you opened the door to see Johnny. In his eyes, the baby looked familiar. Then he looked up at you, his mouth open wide with shock as he came to a conclusion: it was yours. Then, with a quiet and shocked voice, he asked, “I-Is it…y-yours?”