by Linda Batey

Created on: August 19, 2010

(This is a portion of a novel in which the main character is a young girl of 14 and has been repeatedly raped by her Uncle who she was forced to live with. Uncle killed the first baby at birth, and although she tried to hide the second pregnancy he recognized her growing belly. She has given birth while Uncle is away from the cabin. The setting is very rural Maine in about 1910).

I made my baby a bed in the corner of my corner, behind some crates. I spent the entire day planning how to get my baby and I away, but my head just spun in circles. I was sure that if I took Belle while Uncle was sleeping and went into town, Belle would be recognized and Uncle alerted, and I had no idea what was in the other direction.  I was as frightened and confused as ever. I couldn’t remember a nearby town when we’d come here so long ago, but I knew which direction Uncle left in.  If I ever got to leave, I would go in the opposite direction and take my chances.

Uncle didn’t come home that night, but I kept my baby in his hidey-hole just in case. Whenever he would whimper I would pick him up and hold him to my breast to give him his food. I fell asleep with my baby to my chest, waking at first light. I was ashamed that I had fallen asleep like that—what if Uncle had come home and found us? I scolded myself and determined I’d do better at keeping him hidden.

My nightdress was cold and wet from the baby’s pee so I quickly changed into my day clothes, leaving the wet dress in the middle of the floor. I would wash it later, along with my blood-stained bloomers. I nursed the baby and then wrapped him in cloth and put him in his little hidden bed. I stuffed some sheep’s wool between his legs to help keep him dry. I went to the kitchen and wolfed down two biscuits and two glasses of milk. I was cleaning up when Uncle came in.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat at the table, looking at my stomach which was considerably smaller.

“What happened to the bastard?” he growled. His breath almost knocked me over even though I was several feet away from him. His face was the tell-tale red of moonshine.

“It died. I threw it away. You said bastard babies weren’t no good.” I said.

“I’m going back to town. Any eggs to take?” He stood up, scratched his butt and farted.

“No, the hens haven’t been laying much. Maybe next time.” I said. Keeping my voice normal was extremely hard,

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