Fallen

Summary: After a drunken night, seventeen year old Ebony Dillon becomes pregnant. Dealing with the pressures of school, her dysfunctional family and her life she has no idea who the father is and it’s harder to find him when you go to a boys' school. Then there’s the pesky Adam Hartford and Tristan Moore who are trying their hardest to get her kicked out of school...

Revised edition of ‘Fall From Grace’

Prologue

My father’s booming voice echoed through the house shaking my surroundings. “You slut! Whore! You can’t even keep your legs crossed for two minutes! Get out of my house!”

I came from an affluent family, attended private school, was reasonably bright and had a promising future in front of me, but the day that my father discovered that I was pregnant still remains in my memory as one of the worst days of my life. I was cast out onto the streets, evicted like a terrible tenant who never paid the rent on time. Furious, my father screamed obscenities at me and called me every name under the sun. I was ashamed; seventeen years old, in my last year of school and all without any knowledge about the identity of the child’s father. Of course, I knew I had been foolish. But no one plans on getting pregnant after a night out.

Today we’re going to visit my father. It’s been a while since I last saw him – I’ve been putting it off lately but it only gets harder with time. I’m fiddling with the flowers because I’m not even sure that I want to go, but I think it’s time that I face him.

Paton is downstairs with my son helping my brother pack away his toys. I make my way down the stairs and into the kitchen. I need something, anything, to keep me preoccupied. The sink is empty, no dirty dishes. I know because I’ve checked twice in the last twenty minutes. Ditto the dishwasher.

I’ve never been afraid of my father. Not in life so I can’t seem to shake the guilt, the feeling that somehow I’m a hypocrite because I feel that perhaps I might owe him something – even if he is dead and six feet under. “Thomas Dillon, the bastard,” my mind yells at me. But what does my heart say? I only wish I knew.

The late Thomas Dillon was a prominent businessman, known to many and remembered by his colleagues and admirers by his great qualities and eagerness for life. At least that was what they said in his obituary. To his family, he had all those attributes; Thomas Dillon was a good man – that is when he wasn’t drunk.

My father made his money the old fashioned way – through inheritance. The day that he discovered that I was pregnant, I was written out of any inheritance I was to gain upon his death. I had disgraced the family name beyond any means and I had brought shame upon my father. Once the tabloids exposed my pregnancy to the world, my supposed “fall from grace” was revealed and stripped naked.

I didn’t bother contesting the will, but my stepmother did. A young, socialite type of woman, quite a few years my father’s junior, she had always been the silently intelligent one. A shrewd lawyer, my father’s friends, “old money” I called them were always joking that one day she was going to write my father out of his own pre-nup agreement.

The guilt continues to eat away at me. I stand here today a successful businesswoman in my own right, but I started my empire upon his. I’m not ungrateful, it’s one of the things I’m very appreciative of, but I was never able to fully mend my relationship with him after so many years of being on the other end of the cold shoulder.

I don’t know how long I’ve been standing here looking out the window, but it must have been long enough. Paton taps me on the shoulder and asks if I’m ok. I take a deep breath and I feel myself nodding in response. I can’t feel my fingers, but that might be because they’re plastered to my kitchen bench, knuckles turning white.

“Mummy?”

I snap out of it and I manage a smile for my son. He extends his arms towards me, his gesture for “pick me up”. I acquiesce and I settle him on my hip.

“Hi baby,” I say as I plant a kiss on his forehead and smooth his hair.

“I’m not a baby! I’m three now!”

“Yeah, but you’ll always be my baby,” I reply as he settles down.

It’s time to go. Picking up Alex’s carry bag, I scan the room noticing that my eldest is missing. I’m nervous even though logic tells me that he’s probably just wandering around the house.

Today, I stand before the grave of my father. My stepmother stands on my left, her face full of anguish, though in her heart, joy and relief. My son stands confidently on my right, at the same age as I, when I fell pregnant with him. He stands tall and proud unaffected by the fact that the grave we stand at today, is that of his grandfather, the man who wanted no part in his own grandson’s life. It is for this reason that Sebastian did not ever meet or develop any relationship with my father. A part of me is sad because of that very reason, but my heart rejoices in the safety of my son, for which would have never been maintained under the roof of my father.

This is my story.

A/N: Where have I been for the last two years you ask? Well that’s a long story involving illness, graduation from high school, the commencement of university, having my hard-drive wiped three times and a general loss of interest in the story. Quite frankly, I was embarrassed by the quality of my Year 9 writing. I hope this revised edition has more substance to offer.

I also want to thank all my loyal readers who have stuck by me and the story, and now that I’m back I have decided to (and actually started) editing the story. Please note for old readers, that Gavin is no longer Gavin... All will be revealed in time. Also, I have supersized all of the chapters so expect a 2500 word minimum instead of my weak chapters. As always, please review and tell me what you think!