I Was Literally Dragged From My Barista Job To Witness My Secret Child’s Birth. The Mother Targeted Me While I Was Blackout Drunk Because Her Boyfriend Is Infertile. How Is This Legal?

“I want a paternity test done right now,”

she laughed weakly.

“There’s no need Paul’s infertile I went to that party specifically looking for a father.”

I froze.

“What?”

“I only told you now because I’m going to need child support,”

she said

holding the crying baby.

“Congratulations Daddy.”

I looked around.

“Not happening,”

and started walking out.

Her dad blocked me.

His chest was inches from mine and I could smell coffee on his breath mixed with hospital antiseptic.

Lana’s mom tightened her grip on my other arm her fingers digging into the bruises she’d already made dragging me here.

I looked between them trying to figure out if I could shove past without getting hurt worse than I already was.

The dad was bigger than me by at least 50 lbs and he had that look people get right before they hit someone.

My brain was doing math on how much trouble I’d be in if I fought my way out versus how much danger I was in if I stayed.

Behind them Lana was saying something to the nurses but I couldn’t hear over the blood rushing in my ears.

The baby was still crying that newborn cry that sounds like a car alarm.

I tried to step sideways toward the window but the mom moved with me blocking that path too.

They had me cornered and they knew it.

Paul moved between me and the doorway and his face changed from that angry look to something else I couldn’t read.

He put his hand on Lana’s dad’s shoulder and pushed him back a step.

“Let him go,”

Paul said

and everyone in the room went quiet except the baby.

Lana’s dad turned to look at him like he’d grown a second head.

“This needs to be handled through lawyers.”

“Not like this,”

Paul continued

and his voice was steady even though his hands were shaking.

“You can’t keep him here against his will That’s kidnapping or something.”

Lana’s mom let go of my arm looking confused.

“But he needs to take responsibility,”

she said

and her voice cracked.

Paul shook his head.

“He will or he won’t But you can’t force him Not like this.”

I didn’t wait to hear more.

The second her fingers left my arm I bolted for the door.

I ran past Paul and the dad who tried to grab me but missed.

Out into the hallway where other hospital rooms had their doors open and people stared as I sprinted past.

The elevator was too slow so I hit the stairs taking them two at a time and nearly falling twice.

My work shoes weren’t made for running and they slapped loud against the concrete steps.

I burst through the ground floor exit door and kept running across the parking lot.

Cars honked as I ran between them not looking.

My jaw was throbbing where Paul had punched me and every breath hurt in my chest.

I didn’t look back to see if anyone was following.

I just ran past the hospital past the cafe where I’d been working an hour ago when my life was normal past three blocks of shops and restaurants past people on sidewalks who turned to stare at the crazy guy running like someone was chasing him.

I finally stopped in a convenience store parking lot six blocks away and bent over trying to breathe.

My whole body was shaking so hard I thought I might throw up.

My arm ached where Lana’s mom had grabbed me and I could see red marks forming that would definitely bruise.

I pulled out my phone and my hands were shaking so bad it took three tries to unlock it.

I scrolled to mom in my contacts and pressed call.

It rang twice before she answered.

“Hey sweetie what’s up?”

Her normal voice made something break inside me and I started crying right there in the parking lot.

“Mom something really bad just happened,”

I said

and the words came out all shaky and wrong.

I tried to explain about the woman dragging me from work and the hospital and Lana and the baby and Paul punching me but it all came out jumbled.

She kept saying

“Slow down Breathe.”

But I couldn’t slow down.

“She said she got pregnant on purpose,”

I finally managed to say.

“She said she went to that party looking for someone to be the father because her boyfriend can’t have kids.”

“Mom I don’t even remember her I was so drunk that night I blacked out.”

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds.

“Where are you right now?”

she asked

and her voice had changed to that mom voice she uses when things are serious.

“Some parking lot I don’t know A convenience store on Fourth Street I think.”

“Stay exactly where you are,”

she said

“I’m getting in my car right now We’re going to fix this together because what she did isn’t okay Do you hear me This isn’t your fault.”

A Hidden Agenda Revealed

I sat down on the curb still holding my phone after we hung up.

My mom lives two hours away so I had time to kill.

I opened the browser on my phone and typed someone pregnant while blackout drunk into the search bar.

The results that came up made my stomach hurt.

Article after article about consent and whether drunk people can consent to sex.

I clicked on one from a legal website.

Then I searched reproductive coercion because I’d seen that phrase in one of the articles.

A whole page of results came up.

Apparently there’s actual legal words for what happened to me.

The articles talked about consent and bodily autonomy and reproductive rights.

One article said that intentionally getting pregnant without the other person’s knowledge or agreement is a form of assault in some places.

Another one talked about how men can be victims too even though people don’t usually think about it that way.

I sat there reading on my phone while people went in and out of the convenience store giving me weird looks.

This wasn’t just some crazy situation.

This was potentially a crime against me.

My mom’s car pulled into the parking lot an hour and 45 minutes later.

She must have been speeding the whole way.

She got out and hugged me so tight I could barely breathe and I started crying again.

“Let me see your face,”

she said

pulling back to look at my jaw where Paul had hit me.

It was already swelling up and probably turning purple.

She looked at my arm next where the finger marks were dark red against my skin.

“We’re going to the emergency room right now,”

she said

“We need to document this.”

I started to argue that I was fine but she gave me that look that means don’t even try.

We got in her car and drove back to the hospital.

I’d just run away from a different entrance this time the actual ER.

We checked in at the desk and I had to explain to the nurse what happened.

She took pictures of my jaw and my arm with a camera.

Then a doctor came in to examine me.

He was older maybe 50 with gray hair and glasses.

He asked me careful questions about what happened who hit me who grabbed me whether I’d agreed to go to the hospital.

“So you were physically forced against your will?”

he asked

writing notes.

I nodded.

“You should file a police report,”

he said