I was born to a very wealthy family and always got whatever I wanted. Years passed and I turned into a rather spoilt and moody teenager. I fell in love with a boy with blond hair and deep sapphire eyes. He was the cool guy and I was his cool girlfriend.

I still remember that evening when our whole group and my boyfriend Johnny walked out of the pub. It was getting dark and I was aware that ma and pa were expecting me home. But I was still quite giddy from the drink we had. Suddenly, it started pouring and we ran back into the building for shelter. Before I knew it Johnny had pulled me into a spare room and we were all alone. I don't remember exactly what happened but I somehow managed to get out of the building unharmed, or so I thought...

I ran home crying, still scared of the consequences. My stomach still churns at my memories after this incident. It made me rush to the bathroom vomiting, it made me unwell and uncomfortable. 2 months later it was confirmed, I was pregnant.

I couldn't tell my family as I would become a shamed disgrace so I managed to get away to stay with a friend from the countryside during my pregnancy. I then came back to London where I gave birth in the inn room I was staying at. It was long and excruciating and I did it all alone. No midwife, no experience.

I gave birth to a beautiful daughter but I knew I couldn't keep her. I left her wrapped in a bundle on the church steps with a locket around her neck bearing a lock of my hair
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