She still regrets it to this very day, but she still had her reasons for doing it, reasons not many in the world can understand. Abortion isn't something anyone takes lightly, and most have come to the conclusion that it is wrong, and shouldn't be committed, almost like murder. But at the time that she did it, it seemed the only thing to do, it wasn't a crime or a sin, just something she felt pressurised into. She hadn't wanted to kill the tiny baby growing inside her, what if it had been hurt? What if just at the time it was killed it wondered what its mummy was doing? She has known all along that she had been hysterical, it wouldn't have thought anything, and if it had suffered pain no one knew to do anything about it. No one had been listening to her, no one had had to sit with her night after night and hear her constant tears of confused anguish. Maybe if someone had taken the time to listen to her, to find out what she wanted then she might not be the person she is now, constantly hiding away her emotions.

She had known that she risked never having children again, but it was a risk she was willing to take just to be fifteen again, just for things to be normal. All the way through it she had kept up a constant façade, pretended to everyone but herself that she was strong, that it wasn't hurting her to do it. Of course it hurt her, to be put in a situation where there was no way out, apart from a way that made things worse. No one thinks that abortion is right, but once she had done it nothing could reverse it, nothing could take back the guilt and pain she felt inside, and no one could save her from herself.

She had spent so many nights crying, so many nights regretting her decision, until she realised that it wasn't really her decision, but everyone else's. She shouldn't have listened to them and she knows it, but it seemed the easy way out, it seemed the way to have it all over and done with, to have it all swept under the carpet. No one could ever sweep under the carpet the feeling she is feeling now, the feeling of regret and remorse, the question of, what if? What if she hadn't cracked under the pressure of her parent's demands? What if she had gone off and done her own thing and brought up the child? Would she have been someone else, would she have a different life? She knows that things would have, most indefinitely, been different; she would have had another person to bring up all these years.

She can remember sitting in her room all those years ago and pulling out a shoebox that had been lying under her bed resting peacefully. Inside the box she had pulled out a row of paper dolls that she had made one day. She had sat remembering that very day, running freely around her garden with them in her hands pretending that they were angels, that they could fly. She had believed that they would look after her and watch over her for all of her life, the innocent thoughts of a five year old. And at the time of most confusion in her life she pulled them out and stared at them, just a piece of paper. She tore them up into shreds of coloured paper and held them in her hand, so much for believing.

The pain that she had felt that day, knowing that nothing could save her from the fate that she had tried to avoid. She hadn't wanted the abortion, not in any moment of her life and yet everyone was so convinced that it was for the best that she just went along with it, hoping that they were right. But they weren't right, how could they have ever been right, when it meant killing something, killing another human. As plainly as she can put it, she's a murderer of a small innocent baby who, at 5 months could hear, could feel pain. She had left it as late as she could to be able to think it through, in desperate attempt to change their mind and because she had the baby had a heart, had a brain, could see, hear. feel.

She can remember taking the scraps of paper dolls and taking them into the garden throwing them into the wind and watching them until they were just fluttering dots on the darkening horizon. She had sat and cried that night for hours, just knowing that in the morning she would be killing her baby. Her family tried to convince her it was 'for the best' right up until it happened, and after, it didn't matter to them anymore, it was forgotten. Forgotten by everyone but her, there is no way that she could ever forget committing such a thing.

As time grew on the pain got less and less, but she got wiser, more aware of her surroundings and understood more the mistake she had made. It was a mistake, and she truly does still regret it but she feels she's been given another chance, one chance to make it right. When he came into her life she was afraid of falling in love with him just incase it came to children, one thing she felt she couldn't give because of what she had done. But now she knows that it will be different, 'mend my heart' is what she had asked of him, and he really had done that, he had allowed her to believe again that things would be okay, and allowed her to be able to live her life. He had mended her heart more than he will ever know, and for that she is grateful, but she is also grateful for the gift he has given her, life of another. It won't be like last time, it won't be full of tears and someone telling her what to do, it will be the product of love, the product she is blessed to have. She knows that her angels really did look after her, when she threw them into the sky that day she allowed them to take flight at last and look after her.

"Anita, make it right this time" she whispers as she takes the last piece of the angels that she still has and slips it beneath one of her books.