by Amanda Adair
The weight that held me down disappears. It feels like I’m going to get a bruise on my back. I push myself up and kneel. I try to brush off the dirt on my sweater.
“So dirty,” Piper says.
“Hey,” Jason says and throws a bottle towards Piper. She doesn’t catch but makes a screeching sound. “Don’t break it.”
I get up and look in the direction of the cabins. At least I think the camp is in that direction. I’m not exactly sure what direction I’m facing right now.
“Don’t worry,” says Piper. She bends down and reaches for the bottle with dark brown liquor inside. It landed on the grass, so it didn’t break. “Rum, Samantha, have you ever had some?”
“Doesn’t Sammy look like an alcoholic?,” Jason says and laughs.
They’re right, I’ve never drunk any alcohol. How should I? I’m never invited to any parties, and it’s not legal to drink at our age. I have no one to drink alcohol with. I don’t even have anybody to drink a tea or just a glass of water with.
“You’re missing out on lots of fun,” Penelope says.
Piper walks towards me, with the bottle in her hand. “I feel sorry for you,” she says and opens the bottle. “How sad is it to be seventeen, and you don’t drink, never had sex probably.”
“Never kissed anyone,” Penelope adds and smiles maliciously.
I feel two hands on my shoulders.
“Let’s have a drink together.” Piper hands Axel the bottle, then he opens it and takes a sip. One hand is still on my shoulder, so I can’t move.
Piper comes closer. “Have you had sex, Samantha?” I feel her breathe on my skin, my lips, my nose. I breathe in what she breathes out.
“That’s none of your business,” I say quieter than intended. My voice is shaking. I’m afraid of them.
“So, you didn’t,” she whispers. “Do you want to know what it feels like having someone inside of you?”
“I bet she does it herself every night,” Penelope says and looks at me. “Did you do it at the camp?”
Piper reaches out for the bottle in Axel’s hands, and thereby brushes my cheek. When she pulls back her arm she hits my jawbone with the cold hard bottle. “Take a sip,” she says. It’s not a question, rather a command.
I shake my head.
“Axel steps forward, with one arm still behind my back, so I can’t run. He grabs the bottle and suddenly turns it around, holding it next to my mouth. The brown liquor streams into my mouth. What doesn’t make it into my mouth runs down my chin, my neck, underneath and onto my shirt. I want to say stop, but I can’t. I feel Penelope’s hand with her long fake nails under my chin. Again, I can’t move. Axel and Penelope make sure I have to swallow most of the rum. The second they stop and let go of me I bend forward and spit out the rest that’s inside my mouth. It is sweet but not very tasty. I cough as they laugh.
“Hilarious,” Piper says and claps her hands. “You’re lucky it’s rum and not vodka or tequila.”
“She couldn’t handle that,” Penelope adds.
I hate it when they’re talking about me as if I’m not even there.
Piper is whispering something into Penelope’s ears.
“What?,” Jason asks.
Piper walks towards Axel. The grass and leaves underneath her sneakers make a rustling sound. Now she’s whispering something into his ears. Axel nods. “Cool, let’s go.”
Axel and Piper exchange looks. It all happens so fast. They grab me before I can even think about running away.
“I’m not going with you,” I say, but it’s pointless. It’s four of them and I’m alone. It’s four against one. Me.
“Come on,” Piper says as we start walking in one direction. I don’t know where we’re heading. “We all know you have no friends. Why would you want to leave now, when you can hang out with us? Some of the others wish they could chill with us. You’re privileged.”
While being dragged through the woods in the dark I wonder what went wrong. I’ve been wondering a lot lately, basically all these months, years, since moving to Maywood. I wonder why they never liked me. I wonder why they’re being mean to me. I wonder what I’ve done to them. I wonder why they hate my looks, the way I talk, walk, breathe. I wonder what happened to the girl I was before. I wonder if I ever get her back.
We stop walking in front of the cabin where we found one of the envelopes.
“Do you think the water’s cold?,” Piper asks and starts unbuttoning her light blue miniskirt. She removes both the skirt and her crop top. Axel stares at her bra while undressing as well. With only underwear covering their skin they turn around and smile at me.
“Stop,” I shout at them angrily as soon as they start undressing me. This time Jason’s the one holding me back. Axel pulls up my shirt, Piper pulls down my jeans. I fall down when she starts pulling at the ends of my jeans, trying to remove all of the blue fabric from my legs. I only start screaming when they bend down, removing my bra and slip. I scream as loud as I can.
“Shut up,” Piper says and slaps me. She starts giggling.
Completely undressed I sit up and wrap my arms around my legs. I feel dizzy and the faces in front of me become blurred.
“Let’s go swimming,” Piper says, and both her and Axel drag me to the water. She grabs my right arm, he grabs the other one. I try to stop them, I push myself onto the ground and back, away from the lake. “You’re heavy,” she complaints and continues dragging me further. I can hear Penelope and Jason whisper behind me.
Right in front of the water they lift me, just to push me into the water afterwards. I slip on the wet mud on the shore and fall back. With a loud splash I land inside the cold water. As I flail and try to get back up I hear them all laugh. Why doesn’t any of the teacher look for us? Why can’t they make sure everybody’s back at the camp? Why did I even come here?
I see a flash and hear a clicking sound. I remember this type of lighting. I remember the night something similar happened. Just back then it was just my boob that was visible, now it’s my whole body. I turn around and put my hands onto my breasts. I start crying. I can’t hold back the tears anymore.
“Even better,” Penelope shouts. Click. Click. A light appears. It’s silent for a few seconds, then she says, “here.”
I hear the sound of feet walking though the water, and I turn around. Before I can even see what’s going on or think about finally running away, escaping their torture, I feel two hands on my back, nails that drill into my shirt, into my skin, and fall down. Someone pushed me. The last thing I remember is that awful pain on my head.
I black out.
44
6 months later
The Adina Bonham Girls’ and Maternity Home in New Hampshire is some merger of a youth center, mother house and hospital that looks like a convent. There are actual nuns in here but they’re not responsible for our treatment, just for birth assistance. Most girls here are religious but I’m not. Dad sent me here because they’re experienced with young pregnant girls and rape victims. He isn’t. He’s overwhelmed with everything that’s going on. I don’t blame him. I still love him with all of my heart. I don’t want to burden him. At first no one believed me when I said I must have been raped, not just Dad. I’ve never had sex with anyone. Well, according to the growing baby bump I’ve had sex. But not willingly. I couldn’t tell who raped me. I couldn’t remember any details. No one believed me. Even though Dad says he trusts me, I don’t think he believes me when I say I didn’t have sex. Why should he? His seventeen-year-old daughter went on a trip with her classmates, girls and boys. He probably thinks I did some naughty things and I don’t want to admit it. He asked me why I didn’t tell the teachers about the rape. I looked into his eyes, my Dad’s eyes, and I didn’t want him to get to know what the others did to me. I just told him the other’s don’t like me very much and I’m glad I don’t need to see them anymore. I don’t want him to know that they’ve been calling me names, that they’ve pissed onto my sheets, all those little
things that add up. He has enough traumas to process.
It must have happened during that night at the camp when I blacked out. That night I woke up in the woods. I was naked but I thought that was because they forced me to undress myself, so, of course, I was naked. Nobody was around, and when I arrived at the cabin they were all sleeping. I decided to just shower and go to bed. I cried silently, so the other girls in the cabin wouldn’t hear me suffering. I already told Ms. Downing what they’re doing. I couldn’t do it again. She wouldn’t do anything. She didn’t care. That’s why I just forgot that night. It was the last night at this place anyway. About six weeks later I was slowly getting more concerned because I didn’t get my period. I couldn’t tell Dad, so I googled the gynecologist in Maywood. Google told me that was Dr. Efron. I couldn’t go there. Axel Efron. Dr. Efron. It was Axel’s Dad. He had the same blonde hair, and Axel and his Dad share many facial features. I could see the resemblance.. Going there wasn’t an option, so I waited a few more days that turned into weeks. Eventally I bought a pregnancy test. Online, of course, because I didn’t want anyone to see me. The cashier of the small drug store in Maywood would probably tell my Dad. A seventeen-year-old girl couldn’t just go buy a pregnancy test. Since I didn’t have sex I thought it would be negative. It wasn’t. I sat in the bathroom when I realized I was pregnant. I ordered another one, just to be sure, which also turned out positive. I waited so long to tell my Dad that an abortion was not an option anymore. He wasn’t mad. He was furious. He didn’t believe me when I told him I didn’t have sex. I didn’t even want to say sex in front of him. I know he loves me and he didn’t want to send me away, but he didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t handle a pregnant teenage daughter who claimed that she’s never had sex (that she knew of). He did the right thing to send me away because I wouldn’t be able to handle the outrage.
I don’t even want to know what the people of Maywood would do to a pregnant teen. They’re all sympathetic and friendly at first, but deep down they’re judging you and spreading rumors about you. They would guess who the father is. They would come up with their own truth. They’re contemptuous. That’s why we didn’t tell anybody. I’ve heard stories of gay couples and Asian immigrants who moved away because they were treated like shit. The Chois moved to Maywood five years ago. They opened up a pharmacy but nobody ever bought anything there, so they moved to the city, where they live a happy life surrounded by people who accept them as they are. I’m not saying that a small town life is always miserable and that those living there are always exclusionary but when it comes to Maywood, Pennsylvania, that is true. They hate the Chois only because they were different.
Dad send me to this maternity home, so I could bear the child, give it away for adoption and get my high school diploma via distance learning. From one day to the next I dissappeared from Maywood. I disappeared from Pennsylvania. New Hampshire treats me well. I just miss my Dad, and Mom, of course. The memory of her begins to fade away. I try to hold on to every single image of her or moment with her that I remember but they keep waning. Dad moved to Philadelphia and commutes to work two days a week. The other three days he works from home. He is allergic to gossip, so it’s no surprise he fled, too. He visits me every weekend. I have a feeling that he’s meeting someone. It’s nothing serious. I’m not afraid that he’ll date and marry someone else. Mom was is soulmate, his one and only. Nobody can replace her. He could never find someone that can keep up with Mom and he doesn’t want to. Maybe he just needs somebody to talk to, to have sex with, to just chill with and distract himself from all the misery that’s been happening in the last years. He doesn’t talk to me about her. I think it’s a woman – a young woman – he met at the bar underneath his appartment. I don’t mind. I just want him to be happy. I’m not, that’s a fact.
I am six months pregnant now and my belly’s huge already. I can’t imagine what I’ll look like right before the baby’s born. I’ll look like an exercise ball. The first four months I was depressed, then I went to therapy and I learned to pretend I’m alright. I am a seventeen-year-old teenager with a baby growing inside of me. I don’t even know who the father is or how he raped me. Maybe I’ll never find out who the father of the baby this is. I want to know who did this to me. During the last two months I’ve come to the conclusion that I am about to give birth to the devil. I don’t know how other woman who have been raped manage to give birth to something like that. It feels like there’s an alien inside of me. It wasn’t sex, it was an invasion of my body.
Every Tuesday I go to group therapy with lots of other girls, most of them are pregnant, some have been raped, some have been abused, some were just too dumb to use condoms, and some are orphans. As I’ve said this institution is some weird combination of many types of accommodation. I attend the group sessions in addition to the one-on-one therapy sessions with Ms. Berry. That’s where I pretend like I’m fine. I was searching for help all those years and now there’s actually someone to treat me. The thing is nothing the therapist, any therapist, does could ever fill the emptiness inside of me, the hole that’s left. Nobody and nothing could stop the pain. I’m in pain because of others, not because of myself. I could fix myself if I was the problem. I am not. The problem is inside of me, the baby. It’s those people who treated me like a worthless piece of crap at school. It’s Ms. Downing and all the other teachers who didn’t help me and thereby made it possible for someone to rape me. And it’s Francine in Piper’s Toyota Prius who killed Mom. There is no way a therapy could fix this. I know other people have overcome worse problems. I know that. It’s just that it’s over. I honestly don’t think I have a future. My future is ruined. I can give the child away for adoption, I can get my high school diploma and leave this place, but then what? I’ll always be hurting. Look what I’ve become. I’m full of anger, rage, hatred and desperateness.
“Hello girls,” Ms. Alderton greets us as we enter the room.
I’m the last one, as always. I’m constantly late these days. I just don’t feel like going anywhere. I sit down next to Hannah. We share a room, and I’d say she’s my friend, or rather my partner in crime. She’s as sassy as I am but she knows how to cheer me up. Hannah’s been raped by a stranger on her way home. It wasn’t even late. It was half past six when she was raped. It happened in winter though, so it was quite dark.
“Hey girl,” I whisper to Hannah.
“I have some donuts,” she says and opens the white paper box on her lap. Lots of pink, white and brown donuts appear.
“Thanks,” I say and grab a pink one with sprinkles.
“Let’s start with our state of mind,” Ms. Alderton says. I hate this part. It means every girl in the circle has to say a few sentences about her feelings, her past week and her plans for the next. “Georgina, would you start?”
Georgina nods. “I’m okay, it was a good week. My ex-boyfriend came here.”
Georgina got pregnant by accident. But at least she knows who she had sex with. Her boyfriend Tyler looks like Axel but acts like Jason. I hate myself for thinking about them. But sometimes I wonder what they were thinking when I didn’t come to school anymore. Maybe they thought I couldn’t cope with my Mom’s death. I didn’t, I know that, but that wasn’t the reason for my impulsive escape. I deleted my Instagram account, so nobody can find out where I am. I avoid social media nowadays.
“How does Tyler currently feel about your situation?”
Does Ms. Alderton really think someone like Tyler would share his feelings with his girlfriend? They broke up and he’ll probably soon put his sperm into some other stupid girl.
“He’s caring. He helps me with everything, and I think we’ll be great parents.”
Hannah and I exchange glances. Having been raped and growing a child inside of your body makes you sassy. I’m not as nice as I’ve been before. That’s the downside of going through multiple traumas.
“Great,” Ms. Alderton says, as she always does, whatever we say. Great you’ve stopped cuttin
g yourself. Great you’ve accepted your pregnancy. Great you haven’t cried in five minutes now. Great.
Allison’s next, then Jennifer and Charlie. When it’s Hannah’s turn she sighs.
“My week’s been okay,” she says.
“Okay,” Ms. Alderton repeats.
“Yes, I mean I am okay with being pregnant,” she says. She’s seven months pregnant now. Hannah realizes that she’s too honest. Ms. Alderton doesn’t appreciate it if we are too straightforward. She doesn’t want us to pollute the atmosphere and infect the others with our bad mood. “And I hope next week I can focus on my health, the baby’s health, of course, and my diploma.”
Hannah also studies for her high school exams, so she’s my study buddy. It’s fun talking to her. I know she doesn’t want the baby. Just like me she thinks it’s evil. How could you ever want or love a baby that was made during a criminal act? The baby carries the psycho’s DNA. But Hannah had to tell Ms. Alderton that she cares about the baby’s health. She doesn’t want to kill it or abuse it. None of us two would do any harm, but she also doesn’t want it to be existing. I understand her. It’s not our fault that we’re pregnant. I just want everything to be normal again. I want to be just a girl that goes to school, has friends and family, her Mom, and just a simple happy life. I was a nice girl before moving to Pennsylvania, but I’ve accepted my fate. I know I cannot go back. There is no way I could ever undo anything. I miss my old self but she’s long gone. I don’t like the new me. I’m still alive but I’m empty as hell. Maybe the part of me that died with the death of my mother was the last glimmer of hope inside of me. I’m glad Mom doesn’t see me like that. But I regret that I never told her how I really felt. Maybe if I told them everything we had moved away. Mom would still be alive. Dad wouldn’t be suffering. I wouldn’t be pregnant. But does it matter? I know Dad would do anything for me. I just want to be with him, go to school, have some normal teenage years. The thing is I can’t.