The Baby - Chapter One

"Well you can't keep it, can you!", my Mother shouts at me.
"Why not!", I shout even louder.
"Because...", she starts laughing hysterically, almost screaming,"Why do you want to keep it!"

This question stops me in my tracks. Why do I want to keep it?
I look down at the slight but definite curve protruding from my belly. I can't think of anything to say.
I feel a tear trickle it's way down the contours of my face. I collapse into the corner of the cream coloured room. I feel like a heap of crippling depression curled into a tiny ball and swept to the edge of the house.

My Mothers fiery anger deteriorates into a pitying
look. She walks over to me slowly and arches her body over me, protecting me from anything.

She kisses my forehead.
"I'm sorry", she whispers, "I know your traumatised from the disgusting things you have had to experience, and pregnancy sends all sorts of hormones crashing through your body. But you're so young, how will you cope?"

That's the other thing. I'm only 15 years old. My name is Crystelle François. Being an underage parent is hard enough. But harder than that is the fact that I never wanted to be a parent. The most horrifying thing about this baby.

It was conceived through rape.