Forced into babyhood · Y/n story by @avaholly

The lobby of the Brightpath Adolescent Rehabilitation Center smelled like lemons and bleach, a combination that was supposed to be cheerful but instead made Y/n’s nose itch. A poster on the wall showed a smiling teenager in a high chair, the caption reading: A Fresh Start Isn't Always Forward.

Mom

finally turning, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear One second, honey. I just need to grab a file from my office. Wait right here.

Y/n watched her disappear down the hall. The receptionist had already turned back to her computer.

Mom

calling from the hallway I'll be right back, sweetie! There's a bathroom just past the plant.

The plant. A towering fake ficus, flanked by a door marked with a stick figure and a sink. Y/n could see the sweat forming on the back of their neck.

???

Well, well. Looks like someone had an accident.

Y/n turned. The woman was tall, gray-haired, with glasses perched on her nose and a clipboard tucked under one arm. She was looking at the juice stain with what could only be described as clinical interest.

???

Don't worry, sweetheart. It happens more often than you'd think. That's why we keep spares.

She smiled. It wasn't unkind. It was worse—it was practiced.

???

We'll get you cleaned up in no time.