Chapter 5: Gone, Baby, Gone

There's more pain and suffering ahead for Erika. Trigger warnings apply.

Please leave a review if you want to even if it's to tell me how I can improve or what you want to see happen.

I've been confined to bed rest because of my 'condition'. Lyle comes in when he can to keep me company, play cards and chat. He thinks I'm ill again and there's no way I can tell him the truth. He still thinks I'm his sweet and innocent little sister and I just can't. Anyway, Mom forbids it and Dad would kill me if I did.

The next day, Dad will fly back home and I'm dreading his return. That evening, I hear the sound of raised voices coming from downstairs. Mom and Dad arguing about me. I know what it's about even if I can't hear the words clearly.

Then Dad's racing up the stairs. 'Open up!' He's banging furiously on the door.

I reluctantly get out of bed and unlock it. Before I can even stumble back out of his reach, he grabs me and forces me down on the bed. He grips me by my shoulders and screams in my face. 'Whore!'

'Dad…Stop…Lyle's here.' I try tentatively to calm him down.

That got him. 'I'll deal with you later.' He hisses at me as I quail from him. Tears are running down my cheeks. 'But first, I'm going to have words with your boyfriend's (he spits out the word with venom as if he can hardly bear to say it) parents.'

I sit up. 'No, Daddy, No!'

'What did you just say to me?' He grabs me by the throat and pins me down. Straddles me. He's not choking me just yet but I panic with him on top of me.

'Slut.' He squeezes my throat so I can't breathe. 'I know it's not mine because of the dates. Lennox has confirmed it. When I was away working all that time, making money for this family, you were on your back…opening your legs like a common whore!' His rage is so deadly I'm afraid he's going to kill me and my unborn child.

I flail my arms and struggle. Eventually he lets go.

'Please, Dad.' I gasp breathlessly. And even though it's agony to speak the words, I can't bear the thought of Troy being punished and humiliated because of me.

'Can't I just get an abortion like usual?' I manage to pant out once I got my breath back even though the suggestion twists like a knife in my gut and the guilt is unbearable.

He gives me a final cold glance of contempt and snorts before he turns on his heel and leaves, slamming the door behind him.

I turn over on my side and weep, holding my stomach. 'It's OK.' I whisper to it. 'I'm so sorry I said that but I thought he was going to kill us.' I don't forget to add, 'I love you.'

The next day, my brother comes in early to say goodbye. He's leaving our parents early to go on ski-Ing in the Alps with Stacey's family.

Who could blame him for getting out of that house with all its bad energy and even worse memories?

I know I shouldn't do it but I cling onto his arm.

'Please don't go.'

He sits back down on my bed and takes me in his arms. I can feel the comforting slow beat of his heartbeat and I want to hear it forever.

'It's OK.' He rubs my arm slowly. 'You just need to rest and get your health back. Why are you always getting sick, huh? You need to eat more.'

'Don't go and leave me with them. Please, Lyle.'

'Aw. It'll be OK. I told Dad to relax and not put pressure on you to do well in your exams.'

Although I'm grateful, inwardly I roll my eyes because exam pressure from Dad was the least of my worries.

'I love you.' I tell him like we always do.

'I love you, too.' He pecks my lips and hugs me closer.

I try not to cry, I do! I don't want him to be sad when he leaves me.

I barely manage to hold it together after he releases me and promises to call and waves a final goodbye.

I watch him go with a heavy heart, feeling jealous of Stacey even though I really like her and cursing that I was only 14 and still under my parents' control. Dad uses my age as an excuse to keep me under his roof as much as possible.

I rush out of bed and go to the window when I hear Lyle's smart red sports car rev up.

I sob as I watch him drive away. He doesn't even look up at my window and for some reason that really hurts me.

I sob for myself and my baby if my parents – especially my dad- are allowed to raise him or her with me.

I can't trust my father around a child.

Then I start weeping for myself, full of dread at what punishment Dad was going to mete out to me.

He couldn't go too far in my condition, right?

How wrong I was.

That afternoon, as soon as possible after Lyle's departure when he's presumably finished his paperwork in his study, Dad storms into my room.

'Get up.' He yanks me up by the arm. 'Get dressed.'

'What…Where are we going?' I ask in shock.

He doesn't answer.

Then he's rifling through my wardrobe.

'Dad!'

He ignores me and selects a white frilly dress I wore and angrily tosses it onto my bed. 'Wear this. That's if you can still fit into it.' He barks at me coldly.

I'm not even showing yet plus I'm skinny.

'Wear some nice white shoes too.'

I'm shaking as I obey him and select some plain looking ones with small bows.

'These?'

He wrinkles his nose. 'They'll do.'

I look at him as if to ask is he really going to stay there and watch while I get dressed?

He huffs but goes out.

It seems like mere seconds later; he's banging on my door. 'Erika! Are you ready?'

'No. 5 more minutes.' I rush around in a panic.

He disregards my answer and bursts in anyway.

I stand there in my bra and underwear and automatically shield myself from his prying eyes.

They crawl all over me, lingering on my developing curves.

They're to blame for enticing him!

Then again they couldn't be. I didn't have any curves or breasts when I was 10.

Dad seems to be considering something with a calculating look and glances at his watch.

Please, don't. No! I scream in my head.

He shakes his head to my relief.

'Come here.' He pushes my hands away and picks up the dress from the bed. 'We don't have much time', he says regretfully.

'Where are we going?' I repeat the question.

'Did I give you permission to speak, whore?'

I fall silent and don't dare resist his hands slithering all over me under the pretence of helping me dress.

He zips me up with an almost regretful sigh. Then pushes me down on the chair in front of my dressing table and vanity mirror.

Then he starts to comb my hair gently before brushing it before he plays with it, trying different styles like scooping up my thick dark hair in a ponytail, sighs and tries bunches instead. Finally, he settles on plaiting it into 2 pigtails. He rustles around and finds 2 white ribbons in the dressing table drawer and ties bows around the ends.

I look at myself. Feeling ridiculous. I look like 10 rather than 14. What was he playing at?

Was it another one of his sick fetishes? Maybe the sick fuck was fantasising I was his little Lolita? And not his real blood- daughter?

Probably.

He points at my make-up box. 'Put some on. Make yourself presentable and don't forget to use blusher.'

I dare to look at him like he's crazy.

He raises his hand but after reconsidering, lowers it.

When I'm made-up and received his nod of approval, he drags me down the stairs by my arm without a word and marches me out the door onto the drive. Mom follows but doesn't say anything. Just watches.

Does she know where we're going?

He shoves me in the back.

'Drive. You know where.' He orders the man at the wheel.

I stare out of the window as the bare trees swish by. Spring will come soon, sooner here in California than at home, back East.

I hate the winter which meant being cooped up more inside the house with Mom and Dad. And the winter holiday. Tense, fraught Thanksgivings and Christmas with all the show of one happy family.

A celebration was another potential excuse for Dad to give into all his darkest, most sadistic fantasies.

Worst of all, getting closer to Spring meant Lyle was going to leave soon too.

I still had no idea how far Dad would go to punish me for sex with someone other than him. I couldn't have dreamt it up even after everything he'd already done to me.

We continue to drive a short distance and I start to recognise the route. True, I've only been there once or twice when Troy's family weren't there but I recognise the large house (still a third the size of our mansion) in a less exclusive neighbourhood.

The Jenssens are still a wealthy family but dirt poor compared to us.

'Dad…'

'Shut up.'

He opens the car door and helps me out before he leads me up to the door.

As soon as Troy's parents open it, Dad's haranguing them.

I look for my boyfriend standing behind them but he's not there. Jose must have been wondering the same thing.

'Your son raped my daughter!' He's so furious and out of control, yelling in public.

'No, he wouldn't. He's a good boy…' I doubt they've even noticed me blushing red in shame and trying to hide behind my father.

Troy's parents are in their early 40's but look younger. It's clear he gets his good looks and slim build from his mother while his dad is a typical white American, probably of Scandinavian stock like me and my brother were. Partly.

They're clearly embarrassed and try to get us to come in.

But Dad's too angry and besides, he despises them. I can tell by the disparaging way he's eyeing up their house behind them with the white picket fence, no privacy or long drive like ours with indifferent scorn written all over his face.

Nouveau riche, I can almost hear him say in his head.

Like we were old money?

Well, we weren't, not here in America at least.

My thoughts come sharply back to the present. At the pitiful way Troy's father Joe is trying to pacify and pull Dad across their threshold and away from prying neighbours' eyes. His slender mom Delia in her elegant black dress and gold jewellery is standing there with her hand over her mouth, eyes darting side to side, aghast.

I think they made this arrangement to meet. They seem to have been expecting him and dreading our arrival.

'Please come in. Let's not do this outside.' They beg Dad.

But he's relentless, his rage fuelling him as he yells. 'She's 14 years old!'

'So is he!' Delia retorts.

'Is he in there?' Now Dad wants go inside as he rudely pushes past them. I watch Delia close the door with a small sense of relief behind us as he rushes into the living room.

'Where is the little pervert? Just let me get my hands on him!'

'Please…' Joe does his best to try and calm him down. 'He's not here. We told him to go to the mall.'

'Smart.' Dad nods. 'Because if I ever get my hands on the little perverted…'

'Stop calling him that!' Troy's mother's eyes – the same mild brown as her son's- flash with anger. Clearly, despite appearances, she was no pushover. Then she turns to me.

I cower away in embarrassment and shrink closer to my father. Right then, I just want the ground to open up and swallow me whole. And I don't know how to feel about the fact that Troy isn't here. Disappointment or relief? I'd missed him so much but I couldn't even call him. Mom had taken away my phone from my room and basically kept me under house arrest since she found out.

They all look at me as if noticing I existed for the first time.

'Well?' Delia 'Did my son force himself on you?'

I look at Dad. He glares at me, ordering me silently what to say.

But I refuse. I can't allow that piece of shit who was guilty of the crime they were accusing my boyfriend of to tarnish the reputation of the boy I love.

I straighten up. 'No. He never made me do anything.'

Joe nodded as he and his wife looked relieved. 'I'll ask you again. Did my son rape you?'

Dad's lips tighten as he glares at me hatefully. I deliberately don't look at him.

'No. I wanted to.'

I look over at Dad who's quivering with rage, fists clenched at his side. But he can't do anything to his pregnant, teenage daughter here. It would blow his cover because we're not in front of family and close friends who he held in his thrall and would keep silent for him.

Jose shrugs and turns to them. 'It doesn't matter. He must have manipulated or pressured her into it. It would be easy for him to take advantage.'

They shake their head in disbelief. 'We didn't bring him up like that…'

Dad waves his hand and cuts them off.

'You don't know but my daughter has been diagnosed with severe mental illness.' Thankfully, he doesn't go into details and I know how difficult it is for him to admit what a basket case I am to other people. If they only knew that he was to blame! I also knew he wouldn't be doing it unless he felt backed into a corner.

I feared what his plan was.

I feared for Troy.

I feared for his parents.

They were nothing and no-one compared to the colossus my father was. He would swallow them all whole.

And spit them out again.

Both Troy's parents stare at each other.

'Get in the car.' Dad orders me.

Looking at the two of them, I try to stand my ground. Plead with my eyes at them to not believe him.

'Now!' He barks at me.

They exchange nervous little looks again. I see there's no saving me and run out the door.

'Now…' I hear Dad already starting to negotiate or probably threaten them as I left. 'I have a proposition…'

…

I sit in the car and cry silently in the back.

The driver who isn't George and doesn't know about the terrible night on Dad's last birthday ignores me or pretends he doesn't see.

That's OK. He's young and probably just wants to do his job. Besides, I don't want to talk anyway.

When I get home, Dad orders me back up to my room. 'I'll deal with you in a minute after I've talked to your mother.'

I hear them shouting. Mostly it's Dad, of course. Then the shatter of a glass breaking.

I think Mom threw it but I'm not sure. Anyway, it's going to be whatever Dad decides. It's not like she often has an opinion and anyway even if she did, he would just override it.

I lay on the bed and shiver while I protectively cradle my stomach.

'It's OK.' I whisper to my baby. 'I won't let him hurt you. I promise.'

Then Dad storms up the stairs.

I gasp.

'Why did you lie? He must have raped you because I know you wouldn't cheat on me.'

Cheat?

For a moment, I don't understand what he means.

'He didn't! I love him!' Despite my familiar terror of him, the world's biggest hypocrite accusing Troy of that feeds my anger enough to answer back to him. Something I did only rarely.

His eyes flashed in shock and disbelief as he slapped me! Hard.

'Love him? He just used you like all the other boys.' He scoffs.

'There were no others! Just you!' I scream back.

'I told you; you were to have no boyfriends that would interfere with your studies or your tennis.'

He starts taking off his belt.

'Please Dad, you can't! I'm…'

'Pregnant?' He sneers. 'Strip.'

'N…No.'

Even then I misunderstand his intentions.

He grabs me and tears off my dress, ripping it.

'Strip.'

He means my underwear meanwhile I try to protect my very slightly rounded belly.

'Now!'

I dare to hesitate.

'What's wrong? You said he didn't force you. So, take them off like you did for him, no doubt.'

My hands tremble as I struggle to obey. I can't unclip my bra.

'Come here.' He growls at me and roughly does it, yanking it off.

'Please, don't. I'm sorry, Dad.'

'And your panties.'

I step out of them and still pathetically try to cover my nakedness.

What was the point when he had seen it all before? Why was I still so shy in front of my father?

I start to cry, big fat tears rolling down my face.

'Whore. You liked it, did you then? He didn't have to force you?'

I don't even bother to answer. Just brace myself for what he was going to do.

He folds over the belt in half and starts advancing on me. I try to run for the space between my desk and my bed that makes it difficult for him to get to me.

I'm too late.

'This is for defying me.' Crack. I scream as the belt flicks over my shoulder.

'This is for lying.' Crack. Over my bare arm. Scream.

'For embarrassing me in front of those people.' Crack. Now he's aim directly for my stomach.

I scream every time and try to put my hands in front of it but he pushes them away.

'For cheating on me.' Crack.

'Stop! My baby!' I'm screaming and covered in blood now. But he doesn't stop.

Instead, it seems to make him angrier if possible and he really puts all his efforts into lashing me harder.

'Think I'll bring up some bastard's baby? They're family are scum. Poor. Not good enough for the Menendez's.'

'Please.' Another lash across my body.

'You will marry into a family equal to ours.'

Crack.

'One with a good bloodline that I can be proud of.'

Crack.

I lose count until he wears himself out.

Finally, he tosses the belt away and glares down at me like I'm dirt from his shoe.

I'm curled up in foetal position then I feel it.

I'm wet underneath and on the bed coverlet, there's a scarlet stain spreading.

Cramps begin to paralyse my stomach.

I clutch it and groan.

But I'm unable to speak. I check down there and show him my hand with the blood.

It's the closest thing to a silent accusation I can get.

He says nothing and his face is devoid of expression as he walks over towards the door and opens it. 'Kitty!' He yells down to my mother. 'Get up here.'

While we're waiting for her, he comes over and grabs my face roughly in one hand. 'You tell no-one. Not Mom, not Lyle. No-one. You just had a miscarriage, got it?'

Tears run down my face but I find my head is nodding silently.

How can he control my body like that?

When my mind is screaming 'NO'!'

Dad gets my nightdress and gently puts my head through the top and pulls it down. He gives my hair a quick brush with his hand and it seems like he's finally spent all his anger on me.

I should be relieved but I only feel sick knowing I'm losing my baby.

A bit of Troy.

Mom comes in walking casually. 'What is it? What's the little slut down now?'

'She's bleeding.' Jose puts one arm around me. I guess he means to be comforting but I can't stand his touch. However, I know showing my discomfort will cause trouble.

Meanwhile, all my cuts from the belt lashes are stinging and throbbing but they're nothing compared to the agonising cramps becoming more intense and faster by the minute which eclipse them. I sob as my baby leaves my body.

I wanted him or her so much.

How I would keep them safe from my sick parents was another problem I was going to consider.

But now my choice had been taken away from me.

Mom comes over and lifts up my nightdress. Dad has the good grace to turn away.

'Yes. She's having a miscarriage.' She says coldly and matter-of-factly like my baby dying was just an inconvenience. Let's call David and see if he's available.'

I shudder. She means Dr 'Creepy' Lennox, of course.

'No, please not him.' My face contorts with another painful cramp. Dad strokes my sweaty hair back off my face while Mom glares at us.

'It's OK, Erika.' He turns to Mom. 'Go call him. I'll take care of her.'

Mom sighs and rolls her eyes. 'Well, at least we'll save the money on an abortion.'

I sense even Dad is a little taken aback but he doesn't comment. Ironic since I am 99% sure that the evil bastard has caused my miscarriage.

I stare at her back as she leaves with narrowed eyes, thinking I hate you; I hate you!

Dad's stroking my back now and I badly want to recoil from his touch. Especially when he goes too low and rubs on one of cuts from the belt.

'Ouch!' But I don't dare to tell him to 'Get off me'. That would be suicide.

He doesn't say 'Sorry' but goes back to stroking my hair.

Like any concerned father.

Mom comes back with some bowls of hot water and towels to soak up my blood and Dad leaves. She doesn't say a thing to me, just tends to me with an air of resentment all the while.

Lennox arrives. Both my parents are there.

Mom looks bored as she nurses her constant glass of wine in both hands.

'I need to examine her properly. Under her clothes.'

'No!' Dad and I shout at exactly the same time then stare at each other.

Mom says nothing. She doesn't care. Maybe she was just out of it on her wine and pills, if I was being generous.

'Fine. But if there's some external cause of her miscarriage, I won't be able to find out.'

'Don' t worry.' Dad laughs it off nervously. 'We won't sue you.'

Lennox sets his lips in a grim line.

He examines me there with a torch and forceps.

'She's going to need a D to make sure.'

'You can do that here, right?' Dad asks.

Creepy Doc pauses. 'We take her to hospital. Or at least a private gynaecological clinic where they're properly equipped to deal with this and any complications that could arise.'

Dad shakes his head. 'Absolutely not.'

'But…'

'Do it here!' Dad roars.

Even Mom flinches.

Lennox is intimidated, I can tell.

Dad softens his tone after his initial angry outburst. 'Can you do it here?'

Lennox sighs. 'No. I can't. I don't have the equipment and I wouldn't be comfortable doing the procedure in a non-sterile environment like here. However, there is a drug I can give her instead. She's pretty early along so it's safe.'

'What is it?'

'Misoprostol with strong pain killers.'

'OK. Do that then.'

I must have dozed off then because Dr. Creepy is tapping my shoulder and urging me to take the pill with a small beaker of water.

'You want some painkillers too?'

I nod. My cuts are stinging all over.

Mom leaves without a word.

I'm dozing off but I can vaguely hear Dad asking Lennox about the recovery period.

'She may bleed heavily over the next 3 -4 days and she should stay in bed for at least 1 week.'

I can imagine the bastard's cogs turning in his head. He's thinking about how long it will be before he can fuck me again.

I shiver.

Over the next few days, my father shakes me awake and forces me use my mouth and hand on him.

As soon as I stop bleeding after 4 days just like the doctor predicted, he forces himself on me again.

I try to protest. 'Dad…Lennox said wait at least a week. It still hurts!'

'Shut up.' He growls in my ear and twists my hair painfully in his tight grip as he moans in my ear.

Disgustingly, he ejaculates inside me.

I pray I won't become pregnant from him again. I assume the bastard is calculating the dates from my miscarriage.

Meanwhile, my cuts from the whipping heal in time. But I'm in a great deal of pain after he forces sex on me far too early in my recovery period.

He does it again and again despite me screaming in pain. When I do that, he just shoves my scarf into my mouth as a makeshift gag.

I also pray that there won't be any permanent damage or internal scarring.

I try to warn him about this but he's so full of lust for me, oral or a hand job won't satisfy him.

'You're mine.' He sucks and bites on my neck painfully, leaving hickies on there. 'This should remind you who you belong to. I'll make you hurt worse than this if I find out you've let anyone else between your legs other than me in future.' He pants out and gasps as he violates me.

I'm thinking, I don't let you. I never let you, you sick fuck!

Thank heaven he's called away on business to Cuba for a few weeks otherwise I don't think I would have ever survived or had time to heal up.

But it's 3 weeks before Lennox pronounces that I'm fit to leave my bed. Mom's there when he does the final internal exam before I'm released from my bed rest.

'There's internal scarring.' He says.

Then he addresses me right in front of her!

'Have you had sexual intercourse in the last 3 weeks?'

I open my mouth to speak but honestly, I'm not sure I'd be able to. I'm screwed if I deny it and dead if I tell the truth. Would they even believe me, anyway?

It doesn't matter, Mom answers for me. 'How could she? She's been stuck in bed in this room the whole time.' But then she looks towards my window and back at me with naked distaste.

'Unless you sneaked out at night, you little slut.'

'Mom!'

'Did you go to any parties where there were boys? School or frat parties, maybe? Or meet a boy in secret?' She narrows her eyes with scorn at me. 'Did you get a message to this Troy, somehow?'

'No, course not! Anyway, you took away my phone!'

Lennox intervenes. 'Leave her, Kitty. She still needs to take it easy.'

Mom snorts in derision before she flounces out of my room.

'Now, now.' The creepy doctor sits on my bed. 'Tell me the truth.'

'I told you, I never! I was in too much pain…and anyway, how can I contact anyone?'

'Right.' He clearly doesn't believe me but seeing me getting worked up, decides to leave it.

After he leaves and I hear him discussing what to do with me with my mother, I fall on my side and sob. Wishing above anything else that Lyle was here.

And wanting my boyfriend.

The next day, I walk shakily out of the house to post a letter to him and pray for a reply.

I make every excuse to catch the postman before my parents.

And sneak out a letter to post to him every day when I can on my 'health walks'.

But there is no reply.

As if not losing our baby isn't bad enough, it looks like I've lost the love of my life and their father too.

But what did I expect?

One day, I get permission from Mom to go out with my friends (all girls) and I beg one of them to ask their older brother to drive me around Troy's house instead of going to the mall where I'm supposed to be. It's the last week of the winter vacation and I can't wait to see him at school.

Seeing my tears and how distraught I am, I go right up to his door. They offered to go with me but I refused.

To my shock and horror, there's no answer and I could just sense the emptiness inside the building.

Then I spy the 'SOLD' sign in the front yard.

How could I have missed it?

I'd been so focused on building up the courage to knock on his door and maybe face his parents who no doubt wouldn't be happy to see me, I hadn't seen it.

I let out a agonised scream and clutch myself as I fall down on my knees and sob.

My girl friends hear me and rush to get out of the car and comfort me while the brother watches me. I can tell they want to say something to make me feel better but they don't know what.

There is nothing to say because I know my father is behind it and I will never see Troy ever again.

My mother tells him that I have refused to eat anything the last 5 days when he comes home despite her cooking all my favourites like Salmon Wellington and French Onion Soup with toasted baguette and cheese.

He grabs me by the arm and throws me on the bed. He says nothing in greeting or even asks me why I'm on a hunger strike.

I try not to look at him accusingly as he forces me to strip and kneel and massage him with my mouth.

He doesn't want full sex from me though this time which is a relief.

'You will eat.' He tells me simply and leaves.

Even though there is food in my stomach, I go to puke him back up mixed with a load of bile.

A couple of hours later, Mom brings food into my room. A piece of burnt homemade quiche, salad, new potatoes, a string of green beans and chocolate cake for dessert.

'Eat.' She tells me. 'Your father's back home now and he wants to see a clean plate.'

I nod in resignation and obey, eating slowly.

I take a full 2 hours to consume everything on the 2 plates and drink the pint of orange juice. It's true that I have developed mouth ulcers and bleeding gums and my skin doesn't look so hot either. My face is gaunter than usual and grey.

I've lost even more weight.

Moms had the doctor give me vitamin injections and an IV though, forcing me down to do it while I scream and struggle. They also ram Valium and Xanax down my throat.

I'm thinking that isn't it against medical ethics for the doctor to force drugs on me? Then again, I am a minor in my parents' care – if you can call them 'parents' – so maybe this wasn't against the law?