Her phone dings for her email and she looks at it, curious if it is another promotion for free books or something from one of her favorite online stores. The email is from an unknown email and she clicks it open, thinking it is a job offer or spam. As she reads, she almost faints from shock.
“Hello. I have a twelve year old little girl who is desperately wanting to meet her mother and her grandparents. I was hoping that, if you aren’t her, that you could help us get in touch with her. ?Here is the phone number to get in touch with me and I sincerely hope to hear from you soon. Thank you!”
She reads again and again, tears streaming down her face. She leans her head back, thinking, still in shock, and thinks back to the conception and birth of her daughter, those twelve years ago, and thinks back further on how it began- the terror, the abuse.
Eight Years Before The Birth.
She was a happy child, contentedly playing with her dolls one night. At three years old, there wasn’t much else that she liked to do, other than play with her plushies and read her story books.
He was watching her and then got her attention to come and play with him. She did, oblivious of what was about to happen.
When he began touching her, she struggled and tried to scream. He hit her in the face, which made her taste blood. She whimpered, and he told her, “They will never believe you. They will hate you.”
He made her touch him and he touched her and she didn’t like it.
For six years, until she was nine, this continued. This disgusting touching, the beatings when she struggled, the terrible words that destroyed any self esteem that could have developed and killed her soul slowly- ?all left made her die inside each time, more and more.
And then things got even worse.
Two Years Before The Birth.
He drug her into his domain one night, and she struggled, still, but she knew it was pointless.
He then began to beat her and that is when the rapes started. Nonstop, every night, rapes, beatings, and she was left curled into a ball, tossed aside as some trash, and worthless.
She was still a child.
They got worse as she got older until she finally gave birth to a little girl. But the horror didn’t end until she gave birth..
Two Nights Before The Birth- Twelve Years Earlier.
The little girl laid in bed, in the darkness that she so feared and prayed that he wouldn’t come into her room tonight. The beatings and rapes had gotten worse and she could not handle much more.
Daily, she prayed for death, even tried to make it so a few weeks earlier, but she had made the mistake of telling a friend, who freaked out and told their teacher.
Her family ignored why she did it and instead punished her for her cry of help.
She shifted heavily, feeling an unnatural weight in her tummy. She didn’t understand but was afraid that she did know- but who could she tell? Would they even believe her? Her abuser said they wouldn’t, said that they would hate her and send her away. He also told her that it was her fault and that she was fat, ugly, and stupid. Maybe he was right.
Her door began to creep open and she closed her eyes, hoping that if she acted asleep he would leave her alone.
That doesn’t work.
He crept into her room and grabbed her shoulder, trying to make her roll over. She refused to do so, and he began hitting her, calling her names, berating her, taking his rage out on her body and the soft childlike flesh. She closed her eyes, begging God to let her be beaten to death so that, maybe, they’d know the truth and she wouldn’t be blamed..
Present Day.
She controls her breathing and shakes her head, curbing the trigger before it even begins. She rises, holding her cell phone, and paces, considering.
She wants to get in touch with her daughter, but she is so afraid to. Would she still be safe if she did? The questions tear her mind and she drifts back to the day of her daughter’s birth, still thinking and reflecting..
Birth Day- Twelve Years Earlier.
4:00 am
It was about 4 am and she is awakened with an intense pain. She looked around, fearfully, wondering if he was back and beating her again.
She soon recognized her room at her dad’s house and relaxed. She was always safe here. He never bothered her in her dad’s house and she could have some peace. She frowned, though, feeling that sharp pain again. What was it?
She glanced in the kitchen and her dad was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee. She got up and her dad smiled warmly at her. “Good morning, babydoll. You’re up early.” She nodded and said, “I’m hurting. I think my period is about to start but this is a really bad pain.” Her dad, a nurse, frowned and got up, getting her some medicine and hot chocolate. She took the medicine and drank the hot chocolate, shoving the nausea down. Her dad watched her, worried.
“Maybe we need to take you to the doctor.”
She shook her head, adjusting the long nightgown with cats on it. “No, no. I will be okay. I think I am going to go lay down.” He nodded and watched her, before going and waking her mother up.
7:00 am
She couldn’t get any more sleep and was now in the bathroom, feeling like she had to pee very badly. She frowned and then screamed at a sharp pain as something erupted and clear liquid was every where. Her eyes widened in horror as she sees a baby’s head coming out of her, and she began to scream for her mom…
Soon, the baby has arrived, and so has an ambulance.
They are at the hospital and telling her to push, that they have to get the placenta out. She gave a final scream and fainted from the pain and blood loss- her last coherent thought was that she needed to keep her daughter safe.
Present Day.
She remembers that thought, remembers all the prayers, remembers all of the hopes, the pain, the silent tears that no one else could see, and she glances one more time at the phone and then makes the call that will change her life forever- the call to finally meet her daughter, and see the type of young lady she has grown up to be, and to develop a relationship with her little girl.
