Beautiful Strangers

I was 19. At the time we were broken up, but living in the same apartment in different rooms as roommates. He was upset when I started moving on. One evening he offered me a drink. I got really tired and went to bed. I woke up in the middle of it.

I saw his shirt. I couldn’t stay awake. The next morning I asked him if he had been in my room. He was wearing the same shirt. He said no. Maybe it was a nightmare? I put a lock on my door. A few weeks later he started asking me if I got my period yet. He kept asking and asking so I told him yes, even though I hadn’t. That night he got physical. His plan didn’t work. I couldn’t lock the door in time.

He’s stronger than me. He tried to snap my neck so I went to the police, and he moved out. When I saw the positive test, my life was over. I’m 19, I’m not ready to be a mom. I can’t bare this child that came from getting drugged. I can’t raise this child of rape. I can’t love this child that came from evil. I looked in the yellow pages under “Abortion.” Why is this happening to me? I made my appointment. They were so kind. I consulted with the doctor. She made me feel safe. She assured me it wasn’t my fault. I was terrified. The day of my appointment, these nurses, this doctor, they held me up. They carried me through it all with love. Beautiful strangers. It was painful. Not as painful as bearing that child would have been. Not as painful as explaining to a child why their father isn’t present. Not as painful as it would have been to look in their eyes every day, and see their father. Not as painful as being forced to carry and birth a product of rape. Not as painful as being forced to be a mother.