"We will make a better world for our child," Melchior had been obsessing over those words for the week it had taken him to make his way back to his hometown. Wendla was pregnant. He still could hardly believe it. In just nine short months, Melchior would have a family again. And a real one this time, not one that would kick him out for telling the truth and expressing his love.

He had already written to Ilse to make sure Wendla was at the cemetery the next night. He didn't know if Ilse still considered him a friend. After Moritz's suicide, she had lashed out at people. She had rightfully placed a part of the blame on Melchior. He wasn't a religious man by any stretch, but Melchior had prayed that Ilse would bring Wendla, for the sake of the friendship they once had shared.

So now, Melchior found himself back at the cemetery where he had spent so many nights as a child, thinking and writing. But now, he was just waiting for Wendla to show up. He had someone gotten there ridiculously early, and had a few hours to wait and cleat his thoughts. What would he say to her? Melchior had always dreamed of having children, but this wasn't the best circumstance. He had never regretted what he and Wendla did, but this was a consequence he hadn't considered. He thought their creation was beautiful, but not many others would agree.

Wendla might have even been kicked out of her home already. Melchior didn't know much about her family, but she had sad her mother was very traditional. She had probably been shamed by them already. And Melchior knew that his parents would never take them in. they were still angry about the essay and Melchior getting expelled.

As he waited for Wendla, he wondered just what the hell he was going to do

Melchior is coming back, Ilse said. The two had become very close in the months since Moritz's death and Melchior's banishment. She had been the only one would hadn't made her feel ashamed for the things she'd done. And when she'd told Ilse about the baby, she was the only one who stood by her. Even Wendla's own mother had shunned her. She had committed a sin she knew, but she had hardly known what would result from it. Wendla's mother had left her in the dark, and she was surely partly to blame for Wendla's condition

Wendla had told herself that many times before, but the truth was that she didn't know if that knowledge would have changed her decision. She had known she was about to do something sacred with Melchior, something that should not have been done, but she did it anyways and she felt no remorse. She didn't feel anything but love and devotion until her mother had found out about the baby.

Many times, Wendla had caught her mother writing strange letters that she would not let Wendla see. Every day, he mother looked her in the eyes less. Wendla was sure it had been out of shame. Her mother was ashamed of her. She would probably be kicked out like Ilse had been.

It was in one of these fits of despair that her mother had taken Wendla out late at night. She was confused but happy her mother was showing interest in her again, so she hadn't protested. Until the man had started to forcefully pull her inside. It was then that she could sense deep in her stomach that something was terribly wrong.

"Mama!" she called, "Don't leave me, Mama."

But no matter how much she screamed, her mother did not return. It was then that Wendla began to sense what was going to happen. Since her pregnancy began, Wendla began to read some of the things that Melchior had. She never again wanted to be caught the way she was, with no knowledge of what was happening to her. She read and she learned dangerous and horrifying things. How some men forced themselves on women, how the women were blamed for it. She learned that some women destroyed their children before they were born. She realized with horror that that was what was happening to her now. Her child was going to be stolen from her, and there was nothing Wendla could do stop it.

But she had to try. She screamed and kicked and fought. Her baby needed her, and she'd be damned if she wouldn't protect the child growing inside of her.

"No!" she screamed, as the man grabbed her arms and tried to still her, "You can't have him!" but she was only a small girl against a large man. She could tell it was only a matter of time before she was over powered.

She saw the cloth the man had and knew it was soaked with chloroform. If she breathed it in, she and her child were done for. She wished the Melchior were here. He had helped create this child, and now Wendla needed him to protect it.

"Mama!" she screamed, "Melchior! Someone help."

The man's arms came around and squeezed her tightly. She struggled, but his grip was so tight. She felt the cloth be shoved against her mouth and nose. She continued to fight until the last second for her child, but she could not stop the floor from rushing up to meet her.

It might have been minutes, it might have been days before she awoke. But wake up she did, and when she had regained her senses, she felt empty and hallow. She touched her stomach gently and knew that her baby was gone.

The one thing that had made her feel alive was gone. Murdered against her will. She wept. She wept for her child, and for Melchior, and her mother who was so ashamed she sent her grandchild to die. She wept for her friend Ilse, whose struggles she knew of. She wept for Moritz, who also fell victim to his parents' wishes.

She wept for herself and how the tiny life inside of her had been extinguished. She couldn't have walked even if she'd wanted to. She felt weak and even sitting made her dizzy.

When the doctor came back in to check on her, she could barely understand the words he was saying to her. He called her mother in and Wendla was able to pick up bits of the conversation.

"She lost more blood than she should have, Fraulein," the Doctor, "There is a very real chance she could die.

"You told me this was safe!"

"I told you it was safe on full grown women. But on one so young. She's barely 15, Fraulein Bergman."

"So my child will die?"

"I truly do not know"

She spent the next few days in the hospital for "anemia". She couldn't tell if the doctor's knew of her true condition, but they all seemed to think she would perish from the trauma. But she did begin to physically heal. Her mother seemed ecstatic. Wendla was going to live and she wouldn't be responsible for the death of her child. But Wendla still could not be drawn from her stupor.

Even when her head was clear and her mother led her back home, she didn't speak. She only cried. Wendla couldn't even look at her mother. Having a child out of wedlock was sinful, but it couldn't be worse than destroying a gift from God. All children were placed on this planet for a purpose, and her mother had thrown that way.

She didn't speak for weeks. She was both unable and unwilling. Her parents nurtured her and threatened to get her to speak, but words would never come. She couldn't move from her bed except to do the very basics of human activities. When school started the next term she couldn't bring herself to go. No one spoke of her and some even began to wonder if she had died.

It was a normal day when Ilse had come to see her. She didn't know the specifics of what was happening to Wendla, but she knew it must have something to do with the baby. If Wendla or the baby were in danger, Melchior had to be told.

"Wendla" she said gently as she came in. she was only met with a listless stare. It appeared as if her Wendla was dead, and a doll had been put in her place, "Wendla, please, tell me what has happened."

Wendla looked at Ilse, really looked at her. Ilse was someone who understood what true hardship was like. She would never mistreat Wendla like her parents had, "My baby," she gasped her voice horse from disuse, "My baby is gone." She sobbed.

Ilse embraced her and allowed Wendla to cry into her neck, "You miscarried?" she asked.

Wendla shook her head.

"They took my baby," she said, "I tried to stop them, but-"

"I know, Wendla," Ilse said comfortingly as she stroked her hair, "I know."

"What do I do, Ilse?" she said, "I told Melchior about the child."

"That is actually why I came over" Ilse said, "He's coming home, Wendla"

"I can't see him," she said, "I can't ever see him."

"He'll find out, Wendla," Ilse said, "Your absence from school caused so big of a stir even I heard about it. He'll be worried."

"Let him worry," Wendla said, "He can't know that I lost the child."

"I suppose you'll want me to go tell him you're not coming, then?" she asked,

"Oh please, Ilse. Please." She said, tears streaming down her face.

"I will try, Wendla," she said, "But I can't promise that he won't figure it out. He's a smart boy and he's known me too long to be able to lie easily.

"Please, Ilse you much try."

"I will," she agreed, "Then I will come back here. I see you need me."

Wendla gave her one more quick embrace, "Thank you, Ilse"