A stranger
1312 Words
ELEANOR
Slow, unsteady steps drag me through the revolving door and out of the hospital. The resounding effects of the doctor's words in my head make me halt.
"Congratulations, Eleanor. You're a month pregnant."
The thumping in my heart increases. I rub at my aching heart, bawling my eyes out.
How did it happen? Of all the misery that could befall me, why does it have to be something so disastrous?
It's not Jake's. It can't be, because we never had s*x. Then it has to be his. The strange man from that night.
The faceless and nameless man who took my virginity. His thrusts had marred me over and over, and now it's left an eternal stigma on my life.
For someone who's gonna be the father of my unborn child, the only thing I know of him is his voice. Deep, unearthly, and raspy voice that had continuously whispered into my ears that night.
What good will just his voice be to my unborn child? How do I explain to my unborn child that I don't know the father and I was just a victim of betrayal? What do I say each time the child requests a father? What lies can save me from that question for eternity?
How do I take care of the child? How do I become a mother? How do I tell Mrs. Theresa about this? I have no clue how to go about it.
She'll be disappointed. More than she was with Van when she found out what Van did to me.
A million questions take turns to torture me. But they also make me realize that having this child will ruin my life. And also the child's.
I can't keep it. I've never thought I would consider aborting a child. But no one warned me that my life would become so messy. A pathetic mess that needs to be cleaned up while I can.
With my resolve, I head back into the building and the doctor's office. She looks up and beams at me.
"Miss Eleanor. You came back."
"Yes," I sound shaky and unsure. Taking a seat, I rub my hands frantically, trying to muster up the courage to back up my reason for returning to her office.
"Is there a problem?" She asks in a serious tone.
I run my eyes over her table clustered with books, a stethoscope, and random more stuff.
Aligning the words in my head, I open my mouth, with hopes that they'll come out the way I want.
"This child," I place a hand on my belly, but even that stirs up a wave of tears. "I can't keep it."
She takes off her glasses, placing them on the table. She looks young. Maybe a few years older than me. For a second, I wonder if I would have turned out like her if I had the good stuff in life. Parents. Money. Opportunities.
"What's the matter, Miss Eleanor? Feel free to tell me anything."
"I can't keep this child," I sob, biting my quivering lips.
"And why can't you?"
"Because –" Horror sweeps through me as I struggle to say the words. "– because I don't know who the father is."
If she was shocked by my revelation, I wouldn't know. Because it wasn't obvious. She had absorbed my confession like it meant nothing.
So professionally done. But I can bet she's retching inside from disgust.
"So what?" She continues, intertwining her fingers and seeming intrigued.
"What do you mean? If I have this child, I'll spend my whole life trying to explain who the father is. And I don't even have the financial power to take care of it. Also, I'm gonna get ridiculed."
By Van. By Jake. They may have kept their distance after Mrs. Theresa warned them never to get close to me again. But I know they'll come for me once my stomach starts protruding.
"So you wanna abort the child to save yourself from a lot of messy situations, is that it?"
"Yes, that's it." I feel a pang of guilt, admitting to it. Still, I shake it off, fighting for some boldness. I can't falter now. The decision has been made.
"Alright. I understand." Her smile is lazy and unconvincing. "But Miss Eleanor, you don't seem like the type who's been loved and treated right all your life."
I don't know what she's driving at but her words crush my nerves. Van. Jake. It all flashes into my head, subjecting me to intense tears.
"You look lonely and you need all the love you can get. So why would you wanna kill the one thing that could guarantee this love? Does that make any sense?"
No. It doesn't. And with that answer comes more tears, dropping down my eyes.
"If you can't have the child here, then leave. Go someplace else. But do have that child. And someday, I hope you get the chance to thank me for this advice. Because then you'll realize how lucky you were to have listened to me."
I returned to Mrs. Theresa's beat-up apartment feeling drained from how much I cried. Still, the doctor's words fuel me into packing up my stuff and leaving a letter for Mrs. Theresa.
I didn't say much in the letter. I just told her that I wanna go live with Kate, a foster sister of mine who got adopted into Red Javes Pack. Her foster parents passed away already, but they left her a fortune.
She made Van and I swear to come visit her someday but we never went. This seems to be the right time to fulfill that promise.
I dont have her number but I have her address and it's more than enough. I'll just have to deal with the stress of locating her house when I get there.
I board the night bus that takes me away from the Pack and brings me into Red Javes Pack at dawn. Knackered and dizzy, I try to pull myself together and find my way around.
A couple of guys approach me. From their get-up, it's clear they are goons. Thugs. And they reek of smoke and alcohol.
"Hey, lady, do you need any help?" One of them asks in a dry, sickly voice.
"No, I'm good," I reply, tightening my grip on the straps of my bag and searching desperately for a route of escape.
"You should come with us."
"No. I —" The chilly feeling of the steel brushing my skin makes me pause. I slowly look down at the knife pointed to my arm.
"A nice s***h there would ruin your pretty skin. Don't you agree? So why don't you follow us nice and calmly, huh?"
Hot tears sting my eyes as I do another rescue search. The place is crowded but no one is paying attention.
I get dragged to a dark alley and they toss me against the wall.
Rugged hands fuss with my dress and painfully squeeze my butt, earning a scream from me.
"Shut the hell up. Here, lie down."
Trembling, I lower myself to the ground, while they ogle at me, all four of them loosening their belts.
"I'll go first. Hold her." One of them orders. My hands get seized above my head, while my legs are parted and the man settles between them.
"Try not to yell. Or I might hit your pretty face."
I nod frantically, zeroing into a blubbering mess. When he drags my panties down and his finger finds its way to my slick folds, I can't help but yell.
"I said not to!" With that hiss follows a brutal punch on my face. I cry out but it's low and my vision gets blurry.
I don't know what they're doing as I slowly embrace the darkness twirling in my eyes.
- Writer
