January 17th

It was Friday, January 17th, 1997. I was a freshman in high school, having just turned 15 on December 28th. I was waiting for my mother to pick me up from rehearsal (I had been cast in the school's yearly musical, this year, Damn Yankees). I sat at the entrance to the auditorium with a girl named Sarah who was working on the technical side of the show. We chatted as we both watched out the glass doors for our parents. I remember enjoying talking with her and wondering if I had a new friend in the drama department. We seemed very much alike.


Except for one little detail.


I was about 3 or 4 months pregnant.


It is my best guess, as the morning sickness had just begun to subside (although for me it was more like 24/7 sickness) and I was beginning to feel like I might actually live through the ordeal.

Life in the occult always set me apart from other girls my age, but the pregnancy had made me feel more isolated than ever. I would start showing soon (when you barely weigh 100 pounds, it happens fast) and had no idea what people were going to say. I still had received no instructions about what I was to say, although I had assured the Brothers that I could tell everyone I had slept with a boyfriend. They had said that might be possible, but I now know that those comments were made to stop the hysterics that had come when the word 'terminate' had been uttered. This time, even their threats and a few slaps across my face weren't enough to silence my tears and begging. Finally, His Highest, whom I now know was my grandfather had conceded that maybe people would believe that I had slipped up and gotten pregnant with a teen aged boy and not one of them, a man in his 30's-60's. I remember being grateful and obedient ever since.


Sarah and I discussed the rehearsals, drama, boyfriends and parents. I remember saying mine were divorced and I had to pack as soon as I got home because I was going over to my dad's. Just like every Friday night.



And then something went horribly wrong.




My father's car pulled into the circle drive in front of the auditorium and stopped.


I could see my sister in the back seat and him behind the wheel, both waiting for me to come out and get into the car. I knew instantly; it would end tonight.



The color must have drained from my face suddenly, as Sarah asked me what was wrong.


A million thoughts flashed through my mind in an instant. How stupid had I been to believe for a second that once they saw how much an abortion would kill me that they wouldn't do it? I had been weak to show them my desires; it was just ammo in their hands and I knew by now their cruelty knew no limits. He was taking me now.

And my little sister, only 10, was coming too.


"That's my father. He's not supposed to be here," I answered Sarah in a whisper.


"Well, don't go get in the car. Go hide or something."

For a brief second, it seemed so simple. What could he do if I ran now? I could hide in the bathroom. Or just go out another exit on the other side of the building. Run until I couldn't stand.


And then in the next second, it was clear that running was impossible. My sister sat in the backseat. She would pay for their plan falling through, or even being delayed. And they would find me eventually. And take my daughter from me. And punish my sister for my sin in front of me. And lastly, punish me. Or if they found me too late, she would be born and killed, ripped to shreds in front of me. Or drowned while I watched. No, I had to go. Had to let it happen.

Like lambs to the slaughter.


"No," I said, a little stronger. "It's ok. See you Monday."


I didn't look back. I got into the front seat where the bag Mom had packed for me sat. My sister didn't say hi. She had already been warned.


I saw the needle too, but I pretended not to. I turned my head to the right, acting like I was looking out of the window and answered my father's small talk until I felt the burn in my left arm. Then I closed my eyes and left.



I awoke exactly when they wanted me to. Once I was already on the table at the clinic, prepped and strapped down, but not before anything had started.

My father and one doctor were in the room. Dad surveyed me from the corner, the doctor in his sparkling white lab coat bustled about, making preparations. I had no idea how they were going to do this, just that when I left this room, I wouldn't be pregnant anymore.

I stared at the bright light above me until it got too bright, then looked at the door and blinked. Everything seemed dim after staring at it so long. This continued until the doctor looked at father and said simply, "OK."

Though there were straps across my legs and upper abdomen, father came and laid across my chest. A familiar position for the two of us to be in, but it always amazed me at how scary it is not to be able to breath. His only words of instruction to me were, "Stay awake."

I felt the hospital gown being lifted off of my stomach and was cold. Then fire entered my body through a tiny spot on my lower right abdomen, spreading like wildfire, causing me to scream. I couldn't help it. I had never known pain like this. And I had known pain. Being vaginally penetrated for the first time at age 7 hurts. But not like this.

To my amazement, there was no punishment for crying out, nor even any attempts to quiet me. I just screamed until my throat hurt while all of the saline went in. When finally it was over and father got up off of me, I thrashed against the restraints. The pin prick pain where the needle had been still hurt some, but the fire was even worse now, continuing to spread everywhere. I continued to fight and scream and gasp as the doctor disposed of the needle and washed his hands and father just looked at me. I began to wonder why screaming was allowed this time. My last scream stopped short as I realized... my sister was probably nearby. Listening. Being warned by hearing my punishment. I silenced myself and simply gagged on the screams that wanted to come out as the sedative worked its way out of my system, the saline kicked in and I began to understand the severity of my situation.

They had injected me. If they had made me swallow something, I could have thrown it back up. If they had beaten me, I could have made sure they got my head as well as my abdomen to make sure I died with my child. But there was nothing I could do now but lie and wait for her to die. Which is, of course, exactly why they had done it this way.

It didn't take long. I watched the clock on the wall. The first contraction took my breath away. The second made me find my voice again. On the third, the strap across my chest was released and now I had my hands free. I wondered at this as I felt myself being sat up. Father held me in a sitting position as the doctor released my legs and put them in the stirrups. He sat between them as the pain continued. I vomited on myself twice. The doctor looked up and nodded. I felt my daddy's breath on my ear as he whispered, "Push, bitch."

I understood now. I had to help. No lying there strapped down, a victim. I had to sit up, to participate. To help kill her.

I bit my lip as another contraction came. I wanted her. I knew she was there. I could feel her. I couldn't let her go.

"Push, whore. Kill her. You deserve to."

For the first time in my life, I told my father "No"

It only brought cruel laughter from the doctor. "Oh, she will."

"I won't!" I retorted, then gasped. Another contraction. My body wanted to obey him. Something needed to come out. I NEEDED to push. But I couldn't let her.

I felt as though hands were tearing at her, trying to pry her from me. I fought. I clenched. I tried.

And then, the hands won.

I felt her die. I felt her leave me, be torn from my womb. Once she let go, I pushed.

My only satisfaction from the whole ordeal was that the doctor wasn't prepared. He was soon splattered with our blood, mine and my daughter's. I pushed a few times, feeling my first child sputter from me. I began to cry as it finished. Father laid me back down, needing no restraints. I had never been more exhausted and empty. He joined the doctor between my legs and commented that there could be no complications, the bleeding had to stop now. I would be going back to my mother tomorrow and we couldn't risk a trip to the emergency room.

"Oh there won't be one," the stranger looked me in the eyes." If she continues to bleed, she'll be quiet about it and die in her sleep. It's what she deserves, killing her own child."

I moaned and closed my eyes. The doctor chuckled. I felt another sting on my arm. Pain killers. I had to be normal this evening.

As they kicked in and the doctor tended to me, roughly at that, I remember catching a glimpse of my father, with my head at an angle where he couldn't tell I was looking at him. He was scrutinizing me. I remember thinking that he looked sorry. But surely, I was wrong.

When the doctor left the room, father started to follow him, then stopped and turned to me.

"You can have 5 minutes." And he closed the door behind him.