Chapter 3: Holy Mary

Another one written about a year ago. Only did a quick readthrough and checked for basic spelling and grammar. Thanks for everyone reading :)

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"The prostitute is not, as feminists claim, the victim of men, but rather their conqueror, an outlaw, who controls the sexual channels between nature and culture."

- Camille Paglia

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"Rainy Forks, what a surprise." I was sitting on my bed, looking outside my window. Fog was creeping over the ground of our driveway while the rain pattered against the glass. It wasn't raining heavily this morning but more than what one would generally describe as a drizzle. In the tree lines that marked the beginning of the Forks forest I could hear birds chirping softly, greeting the morning sun that was beginning to show its face. The first shades of red and orange were floating over the tree lines. "Everything looks so peaceful at six am," I thought to myself, absentmindedly stroking my stomach.

Yeah, well that was a fucking surprise. Following my run for the toilet nearly a week ago, I was hit with a wave of nausea for the next couple of days in the wee hours of the morning. The toilet almost saw me more than my bed, which was saying something as I practically lived in it. Initially I blamed it on a stomach flu going around. But then my appetite came back and not in a normal way. I mean, pickles with Nutella…?! Not just that, I began craving meat again. Like a lot. I gave up meat when I was around 8 years old after I saw a documentary on TV concerning animal farming in the US. I cried for days and no coaxing or threats by Renee would change my opinion. No. More. Meat! But now, after more than 10 years of abstention its by-products (such as gelatin), I was hardcore craving a raw, bloody chunk of steak. Blue rare to be specific. Hot and crispy on the outside while cold and bloody on the inside. No other meat. It had to be beef and to have barely touched the hot pan, leaving the center cold and bloody. It was very 'Stone Age-y.' That was when my suspicion kicked in.

Everyone woman had a fear of unwanted pregnancy. Even when there had been no 'activities' in the previous weeks. 'Hopefully I am not the next Mary.' Jup, she was a virgin and got pregnant through the touch of the Holy Spirit and if it could happen once, it could again - right? Especially following that incident. A shudder ran down my spine whenever it popped back into my memory. As if the abandonment by my second family wasn't already breaking me emotionally and physically. No, IT had to break into my room just days after my beloved Alice. My worst nightmares came to life.

And there was nothing I could do about both. You think you have hit rock bottom with the out-of-the-blue abandonment by the Cullens but then add the violation of your very essence and safety. I barely coped already and now this. My nightmares took a turn to the more violent specter. It got so bad that the therapist prescribed me strong sleeping pills as I slipped into insomnia, fearing to fall asleep and having to relive the incident. But there was nothing I could do about it. I was in my own home, my room adjacent to my fathers who just so happened to be the Police Chief. It was evident the next morning that he didn't hear anything. The physical evidence was there. The inside of my thighs was covered in yellowish, purple marks with two straight scared lines on my left side. Aside from that, there was no other physical evidence of what happened. No broken window, no blood or other substances, no witnesses. Only haunting memories.

I got weary when I threw up the first time but attributed it to my weight loss. The same went for the break in my menstrual cycle. Heavy weight loss can lead to a stop in your regular 'Shark Week', right? Bundles of hair marred the floor of my bathroom and my pillow, another side-effect of my weight loss, which was making it easier to push any pregnancy thought to the back of my mind, albeit they never fully left. Once my cravings picked up I couldn't ignore my nagging fear and left my house after weeks of voluntary solitary confinement.

Charlie left for work at seven o'clock in the morning. Like the German philosopher Kant, you could almost adjust your watch to his departure, he was THAT timely. I have been lying in bed awake now for a couple of hours and closely listened for the starting of an engine and the crunching of tiers of the cruiser pulling out of our driveway. A couple of minutes ago, Charlie quietly opened my door and looked at my back for a couple of seconds. Not that I was caught off guard; our old staircase had a life of itself and made it nearly impossible to move between the different levels without squeaking. I heard a sigh behind me and my door was closed again.

My whole situation was very hard on my father. He had lost me once already and I could see the fear and hurt in his eyes whenever I catch his eyes. I know his heart ached alongside mine, pained by the deep depression and ghost-like state of my mind. And guilt. Although I never blamed him for me not growing up with him in Forks. That was squarely on the shoulders of my mother and those bastards of the so-called justice system of this lovely country. It took many years of legal battles and me reaching an age where adults finally began acknowledging my views for Charlie to be 'allowed' back into my life. It took another year and me reaching the age of sixteen to finally convince the court to let me make my own decisions and I promptly moved back to Forks. Despite the somewhat happy ending my father was still ridden with guilt for not having been able to live with him earlier. But I do not blame him. Never have, never will.

Once I could no longer hear the cruiser, I waited another five minutes just to be safe. That turned into three painstakingly slow minutes until I jumped out of bed and into the shower. I started the shower and undressed while the water was beginning to heat up. Looking down past my breasts I saw a small pouch. Normal for a woman but not when one could simultaneously count a number of my ribs. I looked into the mirror and turned sideways. And there it was. A small bump. Small enough to be easily hid behind a big t-shirt or sweater but there none the less.

Shaking my head at the implications of said bump, I got under the shower. Within ten minutes I was fully dressed and made my way down to the kitchen. Grabbing to slices of toast, I pulled out the peanut butter and smeared it on them. Then I sliced a banana onto the toast, concentrating fairly hard for the task at hand as I did not want to cut myself - again. Leaving the kitchen with my breakfast in hand I sat down on the couch. Taking small bites at a time I played through multiple scenarios in my head concerning the task ahead.

'Breath in. Breath out,' became my mental mantra for the day. 'In and out.'

I finished my breakfast much too fast for my taste as it meant I could no longer avoid today's task. Drive to the big mall in Seattle and buy a/multiple pregnancy tests, and praying that I would not run into anyone I knew. Following the clean-up, I grabbed my keys, a jacket and an umbrella. Locking the front door, I swiftly walked towards my truck, which I haven't driven for four months. One of father's officers drove it over from the Cullen mansion to our house and Charlie, fearing that I might hurt myself intentionally, immediately confiscated the car keys. Luckily - for me at least - he wasn't the most creative in hiding things and it took me only ten minutes to find them in the cookie jar. I started the car and went on my way.

Deep in thought I arrived at the mall in no time. Getting out of the car and walking towards the pharmacy was hard but nothing in comparison to picking up the pregnancy tests and buying them. Multiple emotions went through me: humiliation, fear, anger, pain, panic. I walked - no I paced throughout the pharmacy, trying to come up with a plan to limit my embarrassment. 'Why didn't they have a self-checkout registrar,' I thought to myself, feeling my sense of flight slowly creeping all over me. I shivered, trying to calm myself down again. 'Breath in, breath out.'

"May I help you ma'am?"

I jumped into the air, startled by the sudden voice behind me. Jumping forward and twisting around at the same time, I stabilized myself by holding onto the shelves to my left. As for my luck of recently, I had wandered into the 'feminine hygiene' aisle and I caused a three maxi pads' boxes to fall down to the floor.

In front of me was a black, middle-aged woman. Her hair was braided back and she wore glasses. Her hands were locked behind her back. She stood rather rigidly, with an almost perfectly straight back, and eyed me curiously. Her right eyebrow moved up her face a bit upon seeing my frazzled state of mind.

"I, uhm, I - I, well, I mean, uh." I stammered these words out of my mouth, still on the edge from being startled by her. Protectively I put my hand on my stomach and angled my body a bit away from her. I lightly shook my head, trying to formulate a response to the lady's question.

"My apologies ma'am. I did not intent to startle you. Again, I am very sorry," the sales lady spoke. I could see her gaze softening slightly and her eyes and voice conveyed the truthfulness of her words. It always intrigued me how much one could learn from body language itself, a talent I developed while still living with my mother and I had to anticipate her mood whenever I returned back from home.

"Oh no. Please do not worry. I was simply lost in thought and I didn't hear you approaching me." I said, my pulse was beginning to calm down. "Thank you but no, I think I know what I want."

Her eyes then fell onto my hand, which had rubbed small circles as a way to calm down the baby - that was the rational I came up with a couple of hours later to describe the action. My eyes widened with the realization that she realized what was going on and I abruptly stopped. 'Oh no, fuck me, no no no no no no,' I thought. I was on the verge of turning around and sprinting out of the pharmacy as fast as possible when her eyes all of the sudden softened and her stance noticeably relaxed.

"It's okay." Her eyes visibly softened and an inviting smile appeared on her face. Somehow, I intuitively felt that she meant no harm. It was one of those rare moments where a person feels intrinsically trustworthy. Despite the feeling I my stomach, I was still worried that she would criticize me. Maybe she misread my situation.

"They are in isle three, honey. Do you want me to come with you?" She spoke much softer now, looking at me with peacefulness and… Adoration? Really? I was confused and worried that my body was playing tricks on me. 'What am I supposed to do?' I thought. And why was she all of the sudden to nice to me?' I was running through potential plans of escaping the current situation.

"You do not need to be afraid of me or worried, honey." She flashed a warm smile at me, which is when I realized I never responded to her earlier question. A blush begun creeping up on my cheeks and I looked away from her. 'Damn, what is wrong with you? Now you have made an even bigger fool of yourself.' I looked up again when the lady spoke again.

"I have three children myself. My firstborn came completely out of the blue," she said and took a step closer to me. Her appearance just screamed kindness to me, which is when my mind conjured up an image of Esme. 'No, stop! Argh, I hate my mind.' I slightly shook my head. Upon realizing her puzzlement, it dawned upon me how my head-shaking must have appeared to her. Again, I looked away and I was sure my cheeks were taking on the color of a tomato.

"You do not need to be embarrassed. In fact, I would at random have giggle attacks." She again flashed the warm smile of her's and again the warmth basically radiated off of her. I was slowly relaxing and the tension was leaving me body.

"And I truly couldn't control them. The worst 'giggle attack' came when I was in a movie theatre with a group of friends." She took another step towards me while continuing with her story, "it was the recently released horror movie. The one where aliens invaded our bodies and used us as a 'breeding host'."

I snorted when a picture of a green Mars man came into my mind, attached to our bodies.

"Yeah, the idea was quite ridiculous." I sheepishly smiled at her, seeing as I interrupted her story. And that was rude. But it didn't appear to bother her the least and she moved closer to me.

"Well, in that one scene the alien 'broke through' the person's chest and I know it was supposed to be a key, scary moment for the movie but the look on the man's face just threw over the railing." She chuckled lightly, reminiscing the past situation. "His eyes were so big, he looked like a frog. And once my mind made that link I just could not for the life of me stop laughing."

My dad, bless his heart, was at first oblivious to the developments. Having his own bathroom down the hall, he was not aware of my frequent trips there in the morning hours. Following my first trip to the bathroom two months ago, my appetite began to show itself and from day to day my food intake increased, beginning with a slice of toasted bread and peanut butter. I remember him beaming at me with a smile from ear to ear when I ate at my own free will - the past weeks had been a daily struggle to get any form of nutrition into my body.

Besides my obvious loss of weight, my nutritional balance was mediocre at best. My doctor was very shocked and not only prescribed a handful of nutritional supplement tablets for me but insisted on having three IV sessions. Fuckingtastic, I must say. I hate needles and this was not your average fifteen seconds of blood-drawing but having the needle in your arm for a minimum of thirty minutes until the contents of the bag was in my system. I cringed just thinking back to these 'torture sessions' where I threw a tantrum that put other children' to shame. Besides Charlie the doctor had to call in two nurses and even the front desk receptionist to hold me down while they stabbed me with that torture device. We were in the 21st-century, I am sure we would have progressed beyond stabbing people for random reasons...

However, when I all of the sudden began eating meat and other random food combinations, even the man got suspicious. And that was one awkward discussion I never ever wanted to have in my life. Just thinking back to it made me cringe. I've known for two weeks prior to Charlie becoming suspicious and he brought home a pregnancy test (God knows how my introverted father obtained one without dying of embarrassment. He was outrightly petrified of anything feminine hygienic related, meaning the situation must have been ten times more awkward compared to my encounter). He even sat in front of the bathroom door and nothing I said could dissuade him from not having to take it. I submitted to the inevitable and brought back a positive test.

I handed it to him and without waiting for his response left through the backdoor and walked into the woods behind our house. Simply seeing his eyes bulge from the two lines on the applicator, which indicated it was positive, made my heart drop to my knees. 'What if he hates me? What if he throws me out of the house and calls me a whore? How on earth am I supposed to explain the situation to him?' Me being worried was an understatement; it was one of the scariest situations of my life. Our family wasn't downright religious but teenage pregnancy? His nonchalant reaction to my outing gave me some hope that things maybe could work out.

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"Let us consider that we are all insane. It will explain us to each other; it will unriddle many riddles."

- Mark Twain