It is appropriate, she supposes,
that the metal table under her back is shockingly cold. It mirrors the coldness running through her
veins at the thought of what the doctor is about to do. Everyone says that this is her choice, but
really, what choice does she have? Her
one true love, the one she thought would be by her side forever, is long
gone. She has little education, few job
skills, and no means of supporting herself, much less another person. She can’t ask the members of her church for
help; they would surely ostracize her if they knew, looking at her with raised
eyebrows, scorn and judgment.
The straps around her feet feel as
heavy as chains, shackling her to this table, enslaving her to this terrible
moment. The child inside her will never
be an orphan; he will never even take a breath.
This
desperate girl
and her
unborn child
need to be
rescued.
