One

The young woman touched her belly as an unfamiliar sensation moved like a bubble floating to the top of a flute. She was aware of the intruder that was making its presence known, but would rather discount the movement to a touch of gas finding its way through her digestive tract. After all, she did not ask to become a fetal-carrier like some animal in the woods. She did not ask to be mounted like a breeding mare with her private parts spread for the taking. The woman, barely so at seventeen, was unprepared for the harrowing experience of an unjust, unloving act that left her womb inhabited with a life she could not acknowledge.

Her mind was racing like a bullet train riding the rails to its next destination determined to stop only long enough to allow its occupants a hastened exit. What should she do? Where should she go to hide the cumbersome entanglement? She knew the final deed must be completed with closure, absent of drugs and little aftercare. It must be done quickly, leaving any establishment as if she were never a resident but only leaving a piece of baggage by the door. Her childlike mind was firm; she would travel to a faraway land inhabited only by monks or nuns. She would ask for entrance with tearful begging, unveiling her belly to secure the pact. After the task had been completed, she would smile in gratitude and be on her way.

For several months, a flurry of internal questions unrelentingly haunted her days. Will there be remorse for her actions? Will she weaken her stance and change her plans? Will there be a moment when she might be tempted to touch the cheek of the interloper to submit the truth of her plight? Realizing there was no time for retreat, or to dally with the thoughts jetting through her mind, she chose to continue her subversion and travel the distance alone.

The Tele, firmly mounted on the wall to assure its safety from thieves, blared its alarm, “A Teen Runaway!” Her finger touched a button to silence the obtrusive bloke. She rolled over on her side just far enough to accomplish a position of comfort without the acknowledgement of her belly’s obstruction. The bland room had been her refuge for the last few months as she sequestered herself to allow the intruder its gestation. The corner deli provided her needs for nourishment, the Tele her entertainment. She was well aware of the time sequence involved; she had marked an “x” on the calendar tucked in her pocketbook. Her hibernation must end in two weeks; and then, she will hitch to the manor discovered in a mixture of crazy panic and intellectual calm.

The young woman was an avid theorist who wrote in journals to capture her thoughts before they flew from her mind like a drove of honey bees. Glancing at an entry several pages hence, her eyes spied two words: “Why me?” Then she addressed herself aloud, “Why not me?” Rethinking her question written so blatantly it could not be mistaken for another, she began to pen her thoughts: