All my life I have wanted to be loved. To find that person that would hold me, caress me, kiss me and love me. I never dreamt in my wildest dreams that I would finally find that person. At 19 I was raped by a crazy drunk. The smell of whisky still haunts me, the coldness of his fingers as he tried desperately to stimulate my mind and my body. The way he gripped my arms tightly within his hands as he held me to the ground, grinding his body into me. In that instant I froze, my body would not give into his caresses nor would it find the energy to fight back. I became pregnant.
My father told me I was dirty, a whore, that my child would be dirty too. He ordered me to get rid of it, but nothing within my body would let me. I tried to call up the abortion centre, but still I just couldn't pick up the courage to go through with it. The sickness, the headaches, the constant stomach cramps, these I learned to love and with it, I fell in love with my child.
At 24 weeks I went for my first scan. I sat alone. Surrounding me was couples, snuggling, canoodling. I felt hatred for the man that did this to me, that made me unable to love another man. The appearance of the hospital burned in my mind, and the smell made me retch. I could think of nothing worse than to go through the birth of my child alone. Insanity reached me at that instant. I wanted to harm myself and my child!
"Sarah George," the name entered my thoughts. That was me, my baby, and I was going to be checked up. As I entered the office, I couldn't help but notice an attractive young man, with dark messy hair fallen scruffily over his face. He had bright blue penetrating eyes, although they were not staring at me, I could feel the look that would be given off by them, knowing they would make my legs melt. As my eyes moved further down his body, I noticed how tanned he was. He was wearing a smart suit. With the jacket buttoned up, a big loose knot on the tie, all worn with tidy black trousers. His shoes were brown and suede, a sense of style I thought to myself.
As I brought my face back to look at him, I noticed he was looking back at me, smiling smugly. I instantly blushed, feeling the red blotchiness crawling up my skin, finding my cheek bones. "Great," I thought, "I look like a bloody cherry tomato; I've shown I'm a single parent and all in front of a gorgeous bloke. Brilliant." I smiled at him slightly, before moving into a room where my nurse was waiting.
Everything was fine with my baby, what a relief. No foreseen problems, how could it possibly be a devil child? As I left the room, again I entered the office, purposefully not looking around and exited quickly. As I got to the door I felt a hand on my arm, I felt the coldness, the harshness of the grip. I smelt the whisky; I was back on the floor being raped by a dead weight that I could not seem to shift. I screamed and I lashed out, never again was I going to be raped. I was held more tightly, more hands on my body, forcing me to be still. This time tears came, through my panic I knew if I was raped, I would probably lose the baby. Defeated, I stopped fighting, I cried to myself and felt the hands soften and someone was holding me close to them. Stroking my hair, telling me things were going to be ok.
When I finally opened my eyes, the smart man was holding me tight. There was no roughness about him, everything he did was gentle, and he smelt good. The smell of whiskey vanished. This helped my fear disappear slightly. He moved back, careful not to let go of me. I looked around; my nurse was stood beside me holding my hand bag.
