For the first few weeks, Rachel stayed pretty much to herself, keeping clean, bathing daily, the bathtub a luxury she never had back home. She always came late to meal time and sat alone, eating her toast and hot tea, or whatever was being served, by herself. The nuns tried to get her to socialize with the other girls, but she stayed aloof. The only other girl she'd ever really known besides her mother was Sadie, and Sadie was dead.
The first sign that she was pregnant was her missed period, two weeks after she came to stay at the Sisters, but she'd missed it before due to poor nutrition. The only good thing about her home had been the huge library her father had, which she had been able to use, and all the medical reference texts her father bought. He'd home schooled her, so she'd never had friends, and he was trained in veterinary technology, so she never saw a doctor. When she'd been cut or sick, he doctored her as best he could. He sometimes used homeopathic remedies, which she thought were just hokum, as her grandfather called it.
Not that her grandfather was any sort of advocate for her. He was old and sick, widowed years earlier, and he only came to visit occasionally.
So, she missed her period, and while she had before, this time was different. This time, her breasts hurt, and she felt sick every morning. She spent time on the shelter's computer, searching the internet for information on pregnancy and the various signs used to tell. If she'd had any money, she would have gone to the drug store and bought a pregnancy test. She knew about those, because her father had tested her before when she'd missed her period. Most of the time, the men who abused her used condoms, but sometimes, her father didn't. She figured the baby was his. That meant she was giving birth to her own brother or sister.
Rachel read up on babies born of incest, worried that there would be something wrong with it due to inbreeding, but the chance was pretty small.
She knew she was too young to have a baby, as her mother was before her, but this time, Rachel was determined not to let what happened to her and Sadie happen to this baby. Her mother had gone right back into the frying pan from the fire, moving in with her father, but Rachel wouldn't ever become dependent on some man. She was going to get a job and raise this baby right. She'd stay single the rest of her life or she'd find a good man who wouldn't abuse her and her child.
One day, when her morning sickness had been especially bad and she slept in, running to the bathroom to dry-heave, she had to finally tell Sister Jean that she was probably pregnant.
"Oh, dear," Sister Jean said and hugged Rachel. Rachel didn't cringe at the woman's touch. Over the past few weeks, she had grown used to all the nuns and their penchant for touching. Besides, she needed a hug when she realized she was pregnant. She wanted to cry, but she'd do that when she was alone. "A baby? We haven't had a baby around here for a while. Not since Heather. You need prenatal vitamins. I'll call Dr. Alvi to come and check you.
"Thank you," Rachel said.
"That's what we're here for, sweetheart," Sister Jean said, stroking Rachel's face. "We're here to help you find your way."
Rachel was grateful. She was glad the one thing of use her mother had told her was about Sisters of Mercy Shelter in Seattle. Where her mother lived when she was a girl. Where Rachel's baby would be born. But there, the curse on women in her family would end. Rachel would see to it.
She'd do everything in her power to never submit to a man again, and to see her children safe. No matter what.
Dr. Alvi was from somewhere in the Middle East. She was really nice, fine boned and beautiful in her dark skin.
"Are you Muslim?" Rachel asked, surprised that the Sisters hired a Muslim doctor to care for the girls.
"No, I'm Catholic, born in Islamabad, Pakistan, and I worked for Sister Theresa's charity in New Delhi. I trained in London, England. Now, I'm here."
Rachel smiled, amazed that she was so young.
"You've been to so many places. I've only ever been to Seattle," Rachel said in awe.
"Sister Jean said you were from Montana," Dr. Alvi said softly.
"I mean Montana and Seattle," Rachel said quickly.
"You have your entire life ahead of you," Dr. Alvi said. "Travel when you can. It's a big world."
"I will," Rachel said, dreaming of traveling to Scotland where Harry Potter took place. She'd survived the ordeal of her life by losing herself in books, imagining having magical powers and magical tools so she could become invisible, so she could stop bad men from doing their bad things to her and Sadie.
Dr. Alvi made her undress completely and put on a gown, and Rachel balked.
"Do I have to?" she asked in a whispered voice, not wanting anyone to see her scars.
"I need to examine you, make sure you're healthy," Dr. Alvi replied with a smile.
Rachel reluctantly complied, lying on the examination table in the medical treatment room. She held her breath when Dr. Alvi pulled aside the gown and saw the scars -- tiny stab wounds on her breasts and stomach that were still healing.
"Oh, my dear girl," Dr. Alvi said in a hushed voice. "Who did this to you?"
She stared into Rachel's eyes, taking her hand.
Immediately, Rachel's eyes filled with tears and she let Dr. Alvi continue to hold her hand.
"A man," she said, sobbing out loud, not wanting to admit it was her father.
"What man?"
"Just a man," Rachel replied, refusing to say who.
"You poor thing," Dr. Alvi said and stroked Rachel's hand. "Did he stitch you up as well? A few of these are infected and will need to be cleaned. Maybe redone."
Rachel nodded, and lay still, her eyes squeezed shut while Dr. Alvi examined her from head to foot, clicking her tongue whenever she found some new bruise or old cut.
She gasped when she saw the scars from the handcuffs and ankle cuffs.
"You poor child," Dr. Alvi said while she rubbed Rachel's ankles and wrists. "You simply must tell the Sisters who did this to you, so they don't do this to anyone else."
"One day, I will," Rachel said, wiping her eyes. "Not yet. Not until I'm safe."
Dr. Alvi shook her head in disapproval. "When will that be? When will you be safe? Not until the person or persons who did this to you are behind bars."
"Not yet. One day, I will. I promise."
Dr. Alvi exhaled in frustration but continued her exam. The pelvic exam was the most uncomfortable, but Dr. Alvi was gentle.
When she was finished, Dr. Alvi also took some vials of blood from a vein in Rachel's arm and made Rachel pee into a cup.
"We'll check your blood and urine, make sure everything's okay. I'll be by once a month to do a pre-natal check. When the time comes, I'll deliver your baby, if you're still here."
"I'm not leaving," Rachel said and finished dressing. "I like it here."
"It's a good place," Dr. Alvi said and ran her hand over Rachel's hair. "The nuns will take very good care of you, body and soul."
"They do." Rachel smiled at Dr. Alvi.
Rachel went back to her room and lay on the bed, not wanting to face anyone after the examination. She switched off the light and turned to face the wall, her eyes tightly closed. She was probably eight weeks pregnant and would deliver a baby in thirty-two weeks, based on the date of her last period.
There was only one man who could be the father. There was only one man who did not use a condom.
She would be a mother to her own half-sister or brother.
She would not cry.
She wouldn't.
Sister Jean knocked at her door a while later and popped her head inside the darkened room.
"Are you all right, sweetheart?"
Rachel inhaled, debating whether to tell the truth or lie.
"I'll be okay," she said finally. "Just upset is all."
Sister Jean came inside and sat on the chair beside the bed. She took Rachel's hand and stroked it. "I don't want you to worry about anything. We'll take care of you. This is what we do best. We'll make sure you get the best food. We'll make sure you get good medical care. When your child is born, we'll work with authorities to find you a good home to live in, so you can go to school and your child will be provided for."
Rachel pulled her hand out of Sister Jean's and sat up. She felt bad but she did not want to go and live with another family. "Can't I stay here? I don't want to go live with a foster family."
"You can stay here as long as you want. I just thought you'd like to live in a home, with a family who can help you raise your child."
"I should give it up for adoption," Rachel said quietly. "Maybe it will have a better chance at life than I ever did."
"If you want," Sister Jean said, but Rachel could swear she heard a note of disapproval in the nun's voice. "Or you could keep the child and raise it the way you know it should be raised -- the way you should have been raised."
Rachel shook her head. "I don't know what that even means. How should I have been raised? I never went to school. I never had friends except..."
She shut up at that, not wanting to mention Sadie. That would raise all kinds of issues and could lead Sister Jean to finding out who Rachel really was.
Above all else, Rachel did not want that.
"Except who?" Sister Jean asked, her eyebrows raised. "Don't you have one friend in the world?"
"I did have one, but she died."
Sister Jean's face fell. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Was she a street kid, too?"
"No, she's just dead."
"You must feel very lonely," Sister Jean said. "Isn't there someone in your family we can contact? An aunt? A cousin? Surely, someone must be missing you and want to know you're all right and especially now that you're having a baby."
"No. There's no one." Rachel sighed, her breath shaking with emotion.
No one could know who she really was, or contact her family, because that would mean her death. If her father found her, he'd kill her.
He promised to if she ever tried to run away or tell anyone what went on in the Family.
He had guns. Lots of them. And knives. He knew people everywhere. People who would bring her back to him.
He promised her that.
Once, when she had tried to run, he held her down, one hand around her throat, and the other pointing a finger at her, poking it against her forehead over and over like it was a gun.
"No one even knows you exist. Do you realize that? There are no records of your birth. I delivered you and Sadie so there are no birth certificates in your name. If you ever run away, if you ever tell anyone anything about me, I'll kill you. Like I killed Sadie. And your mother."
She had been a slave, and that was that. When she left, she knew she had to leave for good. She had to escape completely, take on a new life somewhere else where he couldn't find her.
Somewhere new.