(Approximately seven weeks prior)

It's been a week. One week. Seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours. Ten thousand and eighty minutes. Six hundred and four thousand, eight hundred seconds. One week since I lost my baby. I wonder about the use of that word "lost" when referring to an ill-fated pregnancy. Like I'd somehow misplaced my child; that he could be found laughing & smiling someplace else if all of us just started looking. Like he's a set of keys somebody can't find right when they're about to leave the house. Like he was nothing but an inanimate object. Lifeless, devoid of any capacity to feel, dream, aspire, breathe. Well, he wasn't. He was obviously too young to do any of those things but he had all the promise to do great things. Who am I kidding? Of course he didn't. He'd forever be a child of rape, originating from an impoverished teenage punching bag & a gambling, alcoholic rapist. My baby would have had no chance.

Perhaps Manny would have thrown me out for being pregnant. Perhaps even my mother. Maybe I would have miscarried. Maybe I would have been oblivious to the pregnancy until I went into labour over my bathroom floor like those poor women on I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant. Maybe I would have had to drop out of school & volleyball. Maybe I would have given him up for adoption. Maybe he would have wound up doing okay.

His story, my story, could have each gone a thousand different ways but Manny exists & now I don't have a child anymore.

∞

I haven't seen nor spoken to Sandra (my mother) or Manny since the abortion. I've gone to school by exiting through my bedroom window. My door has been dead-bolted ever since Monday. I got a locksmith to come through and secure my room as best as possible.

I have an en-suite bathroom in here as well as some money saved for groceries & other expenses. I've been scavenging for coupons and food stamps as well as eating whatever I can get from my acquaintances. It's like I'm living on my own, minus the electricity & water bills. Manny comes banging up here fairly often but I ignore him. It'll be impossible for him to penetrate my fortress.

∞

I arrive home from school in my newly-adopted stealth-mode. I creep around the back of the house & wait for about fifteen minutes. I listen intently for signs of life before creeping to my window. There is a particular way one is required to shimmy the window & knock the frame before being able to open the window. I do this as quietly as possible while keeping one eye over my shoulder. When I prise the window open I slide my schoolbag in first before hoisting myself through. I land softly on the balls of my feet & perform a quick scan of my bedroom to see if anything has recently been tampered with. Once I am satisfied that my room has been left undisturbed I silently shut the window. Time to breathe.

I find some comfortable clothes and proceed to my shower. The hot water cascading down my skin still stings the carvings Manny made into my skin over a whole month ago. Those has better as fuck not become infected at any point. After the hallway & volleyball grime has been cleansed from my skin I settle at my desk to begin my homework. This has become a rather peaceful routine for me. After working for about twenty minutes I realise I am ravenous. I scrounge around the room for some snacks & am delighted to discover an apple, a cold chicken pie & some almonds. I'll ration these between now & dinner & go grocery shopping tomorrow. I am somewhat concerned about my money running out after just buying food & I know that this setup cannot last. This self-marooning of my bedroom may be working for me now but won't when my elders begin to question & debate my actions. Manny has surely not finished sexually assaulting me; that would be too good a thing to hope for. They'll probably haul me back into their lives soon enough or force me to leave permanently. Again, the latter is too good a proposition to hope for.

After finishing the apple & a few of the nuts I begin hunting through the insurmountable mountains of clothing in my bedroom for my iPod. Once I locate it I connect my headphones & lose my fears to the luscious indie insrumentals of Andrew Belle & Bravestation.

When the afternoon & stack of homework ceases I curl into my blankets with my usual choice of novel - a psychological thriller. I drift to sleep with dreams of far-removed insidious deceits & murder.

∞

I awaken to my trademark alarm song - Robbers by The 1975. Waking to quality music & not an amorous drunkard in my ear has become enough of a relief to render me a sunny, optimistic morning person; someone I typically despise.

I dress in a lilac bodysuit that probably doesn't belong to me, my regular running shoes & my everyday pocketknife stowed away safely. I pack up the essential supplies of phone, charger, money, stationery & books before cautiously traipsing off to school.

∞

After school I skirt around the corner of the house across from ours. I see Manny in front of our house, strolling towards the garage. I'll wait until he's out of sight to sneak into my room. Yet he doesn't drive out to an unknown destination as I had anticipated, instead he parks the car directly in line with our front door, facing south. This isn't something I'm accustomed to seeing so I remain in my hiding spot, observing. Manny exits the vehicle & pockets the keys. If only I could hotwire the car so that I could take it & sell it for food money. Or perhaps my own place.

It's entirely possible that he's just parking the car out front for easy access as he could be transporting some large or heavy objects or whatever. Somehow my gut doesn't believe this. Something is certainly up. I want to investigate but I know that these are dangerous waters I'm on the periphery of. I want to bolt to the nearest police station but what would I say? My abusive stepfather who just so happens to be the breadwinner of the house that I'm currently residing in has parked his car in a peculiar manner in front of our house. Please help. Obviously that would be a fruitless endeavor. My instincts warn me against the house today but my sweaty body sends out stronger signals - I need a steamy shower, right now. Whatever Manny's up to will be revealed whenever it needs to be. With that, I increase the circumference I walk around our street to reach the side of the house. I keep my eyes and ears trained, my footfalls light. I reach the window and swiftly maneuver myself onto my stained carpets. I close the window after me & sigh, relieved to have made it. Or so I had believed.

I heard the window being manipulated behind me just as I routinely do so. I whip around & reach for my pocketknife when I discover that it is none other than my model-citizen of a stepfather attempting to squeeze his cumbersome, unfit body through my window.

"Get lost!" I yell as I lunge at him, trying to shove him back through the window. I suddenly stab his forearm with my knife & am surprised to learn that slicing a blade through the flesh of the enemy is almost as pleasurable as the slashes I'd make on my hips. With the same knife.

He roared as I extracted my scalpel, just as precisely as in the biology lab. He was nothing but my worthless rat, ready for dissection. Maybe by slicing him up I can ascertain just why he thinks it's appropriate to assault me & my mother.

He twists my wrist as I move to strike him once again. I kick him in the chest to prevent him from snapping it. He yowls & advances towards me once more. I dodge his fists & feet easily, his bleeding arm certainly slowing him down. He appears lucid which could either be a good or bad thing for me. He abruptly charges at me, shouting too many profanities to count. I sidestep at the very last second to his injured arm's side. I rapidly hop onto my bed & land on the other side, knife poised & eyes crazed. I am more than ready for what he thinks he can do to me.

He leaps over my bed & crash-lands right on top of me. One hand slithers down to immobilise my knife-wielding arm, his other curls itself around my neck, fingers prodding for my trachea. I lift my right leg to wrap it around his waist. I use this new angle of our bodies' connection to align his loins with mine. The scent of his breath & the sensation of him pressing sensually up against me is enough to make me nauseous. I inhale deeply & press his newfound arousal against me even harder. His dark eyes are perplexed & his grip around my arm & neck decrease fractionally. I moan as I would expect an amorous woman to whilst bringing my other leg around his middle. It takes everything in me not to retch & fight him off me. I know this isn't a game anymore, I play at the horny mistress for any longer & he'll begin to rape me.

While he's preoccupied with my sex signals I slowly writhe my arm out from his distracted hold. I cautiously bring forth the knife with a trembling hand. By now he's kissing & biting me. Nothing about his kiss is worth screaming home about, it's all chapped alcoholic lips, stained, chipped teeth & foul breath. Furthermore he makes awful slurping & gnawing noises. During the oral assault I open my right eye a sliver & position the knife at the general location of where I assume his carotid artery would be. He shifts his head to the left to begin kissing & chewing on my jaw. I take my moment & slash him a bleeding river. Blood immediately bubbles at the haggard surface before gushing out onto the two of us.

"What is this? You bitch! You fucking cow, I'll kill you!" He rages as he holds his neck whilst simultaneously grappling for a hold on mine. I punch him as best as I know how & scramble away from him. He begins to haemorrhage all over my Aegean carpeting yet that doesn't prevent him from shakily standing, slaughter eyes rising to meet me. I wield my blade at arm's length as I step over to my desk to retrieve my bedroom door keys.

Scarlet neck staggers before me, dripping hands reveal a quake, streaked chest heaves. Manny reaches me as he's about to black out. I stare unmoving at the tears lining the pockmarked peaks & valleys of my tormentor's face. Lifeblood leaches through his fidgeting fingers as he attempts to hold his vulnerability together. I hesitantly reach for his oversized hand with my own pale & scarred one. I want to let his wound be laid bare. Let his life drain out of my doing. Let him die here. Allow me peace. He does not, however, grant me this. I graze my nails against his forefinger when he unites his ringed right fist with my left eye. I collapse in scorn & amazement. He plunges to his knees & softly encases my face in his warm, wet hands. I fell as though he's about to slam my head into the wall so I wrench myself out of his grasp.

The bleeding is steady & his eyes grow hazy. I protect my throbbing face with my left hand & force the window outwards with my right. He scuttles along the floor & clasps my ankle with ailing fingers. I immediately stamp on his hand with my other foot. He wails in anguish & I allow myself a moment of triumph as bones & ligaments fracture & tear beneath me. I slam the window on my way out instead of shutting it softly. To hell with creeping about my own home. I stagger onwards to an indeterminate location. I find myself nearing a white vehicle on the road. Just as I am about to signal to the driver for help I feel a sharp & debilitating sting in my neck. I whip my arm around to kill the supposed insect but all I feel is a thin, fairly long stick with something furry on its end. I briskly yank it out of my flesh to examine it. A tranquiliser dart. Who is trying to bring me down? Manny's blood is too far gone so who then?

I get my answer once I've crouched in the shrubs next to me.

"I heard him screaming, you know. You really hurt him. He could die. Our moneymaker could die. All because of an ungrateful teenage hussy. You'll be paying for this. One way or another you will. You should be feeling drowsy right about now, I'm going to take you to the car. I've already called an ambulance for your father. You should use the time you have left being conscious to think about what you just did."

She says it all in a deceptively quiescent tone of voice. She. My traitorous mother. She must have stumbled across Manny's cries & seen me striding across the expanse of grassland between our house and the street. Why hadn't I known about the tranquiliser gun? Why is she planning on taking me to the car? I had no time to consider any hypotheses as I was once again unconscious contrary to my desires.

∞

Blurry eyes awaken to a familiar begrimed room. A stiff neck shifts a hammering head from side to painful side. An aching wrist allows trembling fingers to come into contact with an intravenous drip inserted in the crook of the arm. Tired eyes follow the line of the IV to a sack slowly filling with a viscous mahogany substance. Tired eyes close.

∞

I discover when I arrive home that Manny is in the ICU of the nearest public hospital. They're not known for asking questions there about how a patient obtained their grievance.

My carpets grow sangria-coloured. My knife goes missing. The left side of my face transforms from red to blue to black. The crook of my right arm bruises. I become paler by the minute. My head spins on my shoulders & I haven't even the energy to walk to the pharmacy to buy some iron supplements. This has all occurred in a matter of hours. The sun is now hiding beneath the horizon, the sky awash in peach & blush tones.

I should shower & sleep. I refuse to be absent from school. I remain rooted in place, however, before drifting off.

∞

I am awoken from deep slumber by The 1975. Except this time I'm hardly shimmering with optimism. I rise, gingerly shower, dress in whatever's closest to me & stalk off to school.

∞

Numerous people stop to ask me what happened to cause my face to become so bruised. I conjure up multiple plausible excuses before shying away from further social interaction. Several teachers' eyes linger on me for too long but I don't blame them. I'm so pale, my eyes so hollow, my hair so dark & bedraggled I am reminiscent of a clichéd, teenage-sensationalised vampire. I am naught but the outer casing of a girl & even that's getting smashed.

My saving grace of an awkward day is volleyball practice after school. I change into my skirt, sneakers & sweatshirt before eagerly trotting out onto the court. Most of my teammates have already seen my battered face so nobody pays me any mind. Once the game has begun I forget about my horrendous domestic circumstances & concentrate only on scoring as many points for my side as possible. My twisted wrist aches but that is usually the price of a sport like this. About halfway through the game I begin to feel more tired than a regular volleyball player should at this time. My movements become progressively more sluggish & the coach calls me out on it numerous times. We take a water break which I use to lie down.

"Adrienne, what's going on today?" My closest-to-what-can-be-called-a-friend Sapphire asks.

"Saph, no idea. I suppose I just haven't been sleeping well lately." The ultimate lie.

"Want something to eat?" She inquires as she offers me a granola bar which I eagerly take.

"Thanks, girl," I say, already mid-bite.

"You sure you've been eating properly these days?"

"I have, no need to worry about me," I reassure her with a grin.

"Do you think we'll make in the finals?" Our school's JV team had slayed in the semi-finals a few weeks ago & we were all gearing up to compete in the finals in our district.

"Definitely. We have several strong servers and effective communication between everybody in the team. We need some polishing I suppose but we're a solid team. What do you think?"

"I agree. We even have a shot at winning. If you have enough energy to handle one game," she teases as she nudges my arm. I hope I'll be in peak physical & mental form when the time comes for us to compete. I can't have Manny & my mom fucking this up for me & my team.

"Hey, I'll try to be!"

Sapphire begins to respond but is cut off by coach announcing it's time to resume the game. We all get back into position & Sapphire begins with a strong serve, sending the ball right in the middle of the opposing players' side. Somebody from their side slams the ball back in slow motion. Wait, that can't be right. But that's what it looks like. Unless it's me... My world turns black before I see if their team scored a point or not.

∞

ECG bleeps rouse me from a pleasant fog. I open my eyes to indistinct white sterility & crinkly sheets. But it's the overwhelming aroma of disinfectant that renders me fully alert. I'm in hospital. God, it's been years since I was last in a legitimate one of these. The last time was when I was nine years old & suffering from acute appendicitis. My dad hurried me to the hospital & held my hand until he couldn't go any further as only patients & medical personnel are allowed in theatre. He was there when I came around again. He helped me to sit up & consoled me when the pain was too much to bear. He bought me books to read & he snuck in some chocolate for me in the days following the procedure. He would go off to desk-work in the early mornings & return to me in the evenings. He'd spend the night next to my bed, propped haphazardly in a creaky chair. The nurses would complain that he was violating visiting hours regulations but he would buy them flowers & tell them all how pretty they were & what an excellent job they were doing taking care of me. They were all too charmed by my father to mind him staying quietly by my bedside after that.

I wonder where my dad is now. I'm in the hospital so surely he'd be here. Right? Ah, no, wrong. He's dead. I'm alone in an antiseptic-infested room with a pounding head & arid mouth. Somehow the knowledge of my long-gone father not being able to hold my hand while I lie here hurts more than any of my physical ailments.

∞

"Hi there, you gave your team quite a scare there," a young male doctor with coal-black hair flashes me an easy grin as he strolls into my room.

"Excuse me?"

"Do you know what happened to you, Adrienne?"

"Not particularly."

"Well, I'm told that you were playing a game of volleyball when you passed out in the middle of the court."

"I passed out? During volleyball?" Did I really now? Oh wait. Fuzzy recollections of the gym & feeling exhausted are appearing. "Ah I recall now, yes, that is what happened."

"There may be other extenuating circumstances but the most obvious conclusion that we've all come to is that you're anaemic. Severely so. Do you ever take iron supplements?"

"No. I suppose I should though."

"You should indeed," he says as he gives me a stern look.

"I also found something else." He lifts my sheet slightly to reveal my right arm.

"What happened here?" He asks as he points to the bruising & partially visible needle-mark from my recent blood theft.

"Uhh, I guess I was stung by something," I answer lamely.

"Hmm," his furrowed brow lets me know he doesn't believe me.

"We hooked you up with a blood transfusion though, so you should experience a decline in your symptoms. I assume you do experience other hallmark symptoms of anaemia."

"Yes, I have. This blood transfusion I just had, was it obtained from unsavory sources?" I ask with a grimace.

"Unsavory sources?" He asks incredulously.

"Like, from blood farming."

He lets out a guffaw. "Oh no, only legal, certified blood & organs here at Woodbrook."

Woodbrook? "Woodbrook's a private hospital! I can't afford that!"

"Don't worry, your family should easily be able to settle the bill. Is there anyone you'd like me to call for you?"

At no other point in my life had I ever been made surer of how alone I was in the world until the doctor - whose name I still hadn't received - uttered that question.

I stammered, "I, uh, yes. No... Wait. No, there's nobody," I say with a clamped jaw & gritted teeth.

"Really? Not even a parent or sibling?" I shake my head. "A guardian?"

"Look, I appreciate your concern but there's no-one you should bother calling. I'll be fine on my own & I'll pay for the treatment. I'll figure something out."

He looked like he wanted to protest but gave up before any words could leave his mouth. He then gave me a final pointed look before exiting the room.