The young teen had been rich and carefree, until it happened. Her popular, athletic boyfriend of several months had taken her out on a supposedly simple date that night as usual for the beginning of the weekend. Everything was going fine until he became a little too rough and demanding of her. He desperately wanted her tonight—all of her—and he was going to get what he wanted, no matter what happened. In the balcony of the double feature movie theater, it was a break between two romantic comedies and he was looking to score with her again. They had been going out together for a while now, and time and made it well past home plate, so to speak. The All-American High School jock started to fondle her breasts and soon her genitals. However, she remained cold to him, so he became more forceful. As he dragged her into a more acceptable position, he peeled off her clothing and undergarments. She reluctantly allowed him to continue. She knew where he was going, and certainly, she wanted to go there, but neither had remembered to bring any protection. So the teen started to fight back. But it was useless as he forcefully penetrated her young sexuality. Though she didn't want to, she found herself inexplicably enjoying herself as he built up momentum and came inside her. After each had finished getting redressed, she wanted him to reaffirm his love for her, as he usually did after a bout of passion. He, however, had other ideas.
When she asked if he still loved her, he replied, "I'm sorry baby. I hate to tell you this, but I think it's time we started seeing other people."
"Is that all I was ever good for—a quick fuck?" She screamed and he laughed. Sobbing and angry over their abrupt break-up, she fled the theater and ran all the way home. She did not know then that she had become pregnant by this act.
Eventually, she made her way home, appearing disheveled and untidy. She sank into a deep depression and tried to commit suicide twice by an overdose of painkillers. The first time she threw most of the over-the-counter medicine up after ingesting them. The second time, however, she nearly accomplished her "appointed" task of suicide by overdose. She would have died if her caring mother had not entered her bedroom, worried about her daughter, found her laying in bed and unconscious, and had the wherewithal to dial 911. Thanks to the intervention of the hospital staff her life—along with her unborn child's life—was saved. It was at this time that the emotionally withdrawn teen was found to be pregnant. Seeing as this was not the first time she had attempted to commit suicide, although she tried to hide her first attempt, her parents and the doctors committed her to the psychiatric ward for physical and emotional care and treatment. As per practice, she was also put on suicide watch.
As the months passed, it was becoming clearer that she was with child. She was showing, and her depression had not lifted an ounce. Psychiatrists tried to get her to talk about what happened to her usual, happy-go-lucky self and who got her in this situation, but she refused to speak a word. As her due date approached, she started having violent nightmares. She went mad, so to speak. For her safety, as well as the other patients and stuff, she was physically restrained for much of the time. But sometimes that did not even help, so she was sedated for long periods despite her delicate condition.
A couple of weeks before her baby was to be delivered, she came down with a slight fever. She had an infection, but where? The doctors could not figure it out, so they agreed to give her the usual run of antibiotics. Her fever cleared and her body was ready to deliver the child.
Marie was young and single, and she had no ties to anyone until that miraculous night. She was preparing dinner for herself—a lowly bowl of soup—when her doorbell started ringing insistently. So she answered the door, but found no one there. Looking down, she was surprised to see a bundle of cloth with a note pinned on the blanket inside a small basket. Curiosity took the wheel as she brought the gift inside. With the better light, she immediately recognized the blanket from her childhood. It was a blanket given to her "sister" from her adoptive parents for Christmas one year. After moving out and graduating from college, she has had no contact with adoptive family. As she unwrapped the blanket, a distressing sight was unveiled.
"Oh, you poor child, no wonder they didn't want you," Marie whispered, eliciting a coo from the unnamed child. Though her "parents" adopted her officially, they never loved her like their own children. In fact, it had often felt like she was a burden to them. She was an orphan, but distantly related through marriage or something like that. She was very young when the accident happened that took her parents' lives and very nearly her own. She will always remember the sounds of the accident—the screaming tires, the glass shattering, and the crunching metal—as well as the pain of that night and the image of the drunk driver walking away of his own volition with nary a scratch upon his exposed skin. A piece of broken glass had become lodged diagonally across her throat, barely missing her major blood vessels and broke her right clavicle. She survived, but with a large scar that stretched from her jaw line to her breast.
However she might have looked, the poor unnamed baby was much, much worse than she could ever be. Small and long limbed, he would be hideous to most. He looked emaciated and was so pale and thin-skinned that one could see the veins and bones clearly. His head was no better. In the light of the lamp, he appeared to be eyeless for his eyes were set deep in their sockets and not a ray of light gleamed back from their depths. It was as if he possessed miniature black holes, absorbing the surrounding light yet giving none back. His cheekbones and brow were all the more prominent, giving him an oddly statuesque figure. His lips were thin, almost transparent, in fact. And the poor thing had no nose to speak of! Just a gaping black hole where one might be, and almost bisected by an exposed shard of nasal bone.
Growing more confident by the second, she knew that she would probably be the only chance to be the one to give him a chance at a normal life if possible. "You're going to need to have a strong name for a person like you, you know. I'll call you 'Erik'. It is a strong name and means 'king' or 'ruler'. Fitting for you, I think, for you shall be great one day, little Erik Valiard, my new son," she proclaimed. And thus was an unwanted child named and given love.