When my mother became pregnant with her fifth child, all her relatives tried to talk her out of it. But she never got an abortion. And so I came into the world...
By the time I was three years old, my father had left us for another woman. Mom started working all the time, and my older brothers and sister wanted nothing to do with me.
When my oldest brother came back from the army, he started drinking heavily, constantly getting into fights. He would smash our window in the middle of the night just because we were too scared to open the door for him. Once, he nearly strangled my sister right in front of me.
I woke up in fear, fell asleep in fear, and lived in fear. I even had thoughts of killing my brother while he slept, just so no one else would have to suffer because of him.
This went on until I was 11 years old.
Then, one fine day, my aunt came to visit. She took one look at my condition and decided to take me back with her to the city. That's when my new life began. Slowly, I started to transform from a timid, frightened child into a pretty, confident young woman.
When I was 16, I met a guy. His name was Nick. He was a year older than me. Because of my traumatic childhood, I measured every guy against my brother and instinctively chose someone who was nothing like him. Nick fit the bill perfectly. He was kind, sweet, didn't drink, and at 17, he was already working part-time to help his mom. They lived together, just the two of them. He had an older brother, but he lived far away with his own family. Their father had died when Nick was little.
We dated for six months. My aunt knew about our relationship and constantly reminded me to "keep my head on my shoulders," meaning I shouldn't sleep with him. And I had no intention of doing so. After six months, we started spending more time alone. Nick knew I was a virgin and never pressured me. We were both afraid of the responsibility. We were just kids.
I went to a school where we had to have a check-up with a gynecologist every year. What I feared most was that if I did sleep with him, the doctor would find out and tell my aunt, who would then send me straight back to the hell she had rescued me from.
That summer, my mom called and asked me to come help with some renovations. She was hurt that I, her own daughter, hadn't visited her in years. By then, all my older siblings had moved away. That brother had gotten married. He still drank, of course, but he had a job and had calmed down a bit. I decided to go for just a week—a week that would turn out to be the most fateful of my life.
Our village was in the middle of absolute nowhere, incredibly hard to get to. It was practically falling apart. Abandoned houses were everywhere, and there were no streetlights at all. The population consisted of pensioners and kids who were still in school. There were hardly any guys in the village, but plenty of girls. Guys would come over from neighboring villages. Every night, they'd cruise around like hunters, looking for a new "victim."
Apparently, I became that victim when some local girls, my old classmates, dragged me to a disco. I was wearing tight jeans and a light top. Among the locals, I felt like a "white crow" in the most literal sense—white. The village was on a riverbank. In the summer, everyone had a deep, dark tan. And me, a child of civilization, had pale skin and blonde hair. We were a real curiosity to them.
That evening, after we left the club, a few guys joined us girls for a walk. We went down this street that was incredibly long and deserted for such a small village. Suddenly, all the girls who were with me paired off with these guys, as if they had planned it all in advance. They left me with the cockiest and most arrogant one, saying he would walk me home. But walking to my house felt like it would take an eternity.
He was much older than me, and he clearly had no intention of taking me straight home. I got absolutely terrified when we passed by some old ruins. There was a forest behind us, and for dozens of meters on either side, there wasn't a single house in sight. He was making some kind of smooth talk, telling me how sexy and beautiful I was. I didn't like it. He had brought up such an intimate topic way too fast. When he tried to take my hand, I bolted, running towards the woods, hoping to hide in the bushes. I was driven by pure fear and childish naivety. But he caught up with me almost instantly. "Where are you running off to? I'm not going to hurt you. Don't be scared!" he said.
I was crying, and he just put his jacket over my shoulders and walked me home, almost in complete silence. I was so mad at myself then. "You stupid girl, making things up in your head, humiliating yourself for nothing," I thought. If he'd had bad intentions, he would have done something right then and there, not tried to comfort me and see me home.
A few days later, the girls convinced me to come out and sit by the yard. They swore we'd be alone. Foolish me, I listened, I believed them, and I went out. We weren't exactly by the house, but about 300 meters away, where there was a comfortable bench. Suddenly, a car pulled up, and that same guy was inside. (I hadn't told anyone about that first incident.) But the girls got up again, saying they needed to use the bathroom, and left me alone with him. I tried to go with them, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the car. "Get in, let's go for a drive. Don't be scared, I won't hurt you. I'll show you my village." Screaming was useless. I already knew the girls wouldn't help me; they were terrified of him themselves and wanted no part in it. And in this godforsaken village, no one would hear me anyway.
Before I knew it, we were leaving the village. Naturally, I started to panic. I got upset and begged him to take me home, but it was like he couldn't even hear me. We drove to another village about 5-7 kilometers from my house, cruised around there for a bit, and then headed back. That's when my worst fears started to come true. In the middle of a dirt road, he stopped the car. He climbed into the backseat with me. I started to scream. He threatened me, saying if I fought back, he'd call his friends and hand me over to them. I knew there were about five cars full of "hungry" guys driving around the area. Picturing that scene in my mind, I went silent. With bitterness and disgust, I endured his assault. Strangely enough, for a first time, it didn't hurt at all. That's when I understood why he hadn't done anything the previous time. He was afraid someone might see. Out there in the empty fields, there was no risk at all.
When this nightmare was over, he drove me home as if nothing had happened. My first instinct was to go to the police. But what police? A drunk local sheriff? Besides, when I got inside, I saw my mom was asleep. I was too ashamed to wake her up and tell her everything. I cried all night. By morning, I had decided I wouldn't tell anyone anything. I would just go back to my aunt's.
Three weeks after I got back to the city, something was wrong. I felt so ashamed looking Nick in the eye. I wanted to break up with him so he would never have to find out. But when I woke up one morning, I was hit with an incredible wave of nausea. The slightest smell made me want to throw up. I bought a pregnancy test at the pharmacy, took it, and stared in horror at the two pink lines.
"What do I do now? I'm pregnant by my rapist and I'm only 16. What's going to happen with Nick?" All these thoughts, combined with the morning sickness, were driving me crazy. What weighed on me most was that I couldn't tell anyone, not even my mom or my aunt. Should I tell everyone and bring shame on myself? There would be investigations, court cases. I didn't want that kind of life. I could only see one way out of this situation—sleep with Nick and tell him he was the father.
That evening, my aunt had the night shift at work. I invited Nick over, telling him I was scared to stay alone. I said we could watch a movie. I picked a movie with some erotic scenes. It did the trick. I could see him getting tense, trying to hold back. We started kissing, slowly taking off each other's clothes. At one point, he stopped, hesitating, unsure if this was right. But I whispered that I wanted him.
Two weeks passed since that night. The moment had come to tell Nick the shocking news: I was pregnant, and he was going to be a father. "What? How? The very first time?" he stammered, shocked. "It happens, we should have been more careful," I blurted out. "What are we going to do? I'm going to go to jail!" he panicked.
"No, you won't. Maybe... maybe we could get married?" I suggested.
"But what about your education?" he asked, his voice full of alarm. His whole demeanor showed he wasn't happy about this news at all.
I hadn't expected that reaction. I thought he would support me, not whine and complain.
"What did you expect, you stupid, heartless girl?" I thought to myself then.
"I'll get an abortion and forget this whole thing ever happened, like a bad dream," those dark thoughts consumed me. "Why would I want a kid at 16? I haven't even lived for myself yet."
My aunt came home from work and found me in tears. I couldn't hide it anymore. Sooner or later, it was going to become obvious.
"Is Nick the father?" my aunt asked softly, looking me straight in the eye. I nodded silently and looked away. I felt so much pain and disgust at my own lie that I wanted to sink into the floor. I started sobbing even harder, and my aunt hugged me, saying, "Oh, sweetheart, you can't get so worked up in your condition. Why are you crying? Does Nick know?"
I nodded again, choking on my bitter tears.
"What am I going to do, Auntie?" I asked her, hoping for some kind of answer. "Nick wasn't happy to hear the news."
"You're going to have this baby!" my aunt said with a smile.
By then, I was supposed to be starting 11th grade, but there was no way I could go back to school. My classmates wouldn't understand, and I was too ashamed to face them anyway. I barely went out. My aunt and I went to the school and filed a request to transfer me to distance learning. I was a straight-A student, so the principal agreed to help me out.
I had spoken to Nick one last time about a week prior. He asked how I was feeling and said he hadn't told his mom yet, but he knew he had to.
When I hit my second and third months, I had to register at the prenatal clinic. The hospital's policy was that when a girl like me showed up, they were required to inform the police. The interrogations began. What happened? When? Why? What for? Nick's mother was furious. I had only met her a couple of times, and she had always seemed like a sweet woman. But I knew what she must have been thinking about me. She thought I had gone out and gotten myself pregnant and was now trying to trap her innocent boy, who was incapable of such a thing. Because if a 16-year-old girl gets pregnant, she must be irresponsible and flighty. In a way, she was right, but I hadn't just fooled around and gotten pregnant. I was forced into this situation. I just couldn't bring myself to tell them the truth.
The police also started an investigation into the fact that I was living with my aunt and not my mom. They threatened to take away my mom's parental rights for not watching over me. But the medal my mother had received for raising many children played in her favor.
Not one of my brothers or sisters came to see me during that incredibly difficult time. They all had their own families by then, and as usual, they couldn't be bothered with me. I had always been like an ugly duckling to them, and now even more so. In the end, both Maria—Nick's mom—and my aunt and my mom decided that Nick and I should get married. There was nothing else to do. He clearly didn't want to, but he couldn't disobey his mother. There was no wedding, no celebration, of course. We just filed the papers at the registry office, gathered all the necessary permissions, and our married life began.
I was shocked at how much those two people—Nick and his mother—had changed. It turned out he was a complete mama's boy, and she revealed her true colors as a cold-hearted snake. She simply hated me. After all, I had to move in with them.
All the household chores fell on my shoulders. That might have been okay—maybe that's how it should be—but my pregnancy was extremely difficult. The nausea was relentless, my back ached terribly, and I had constant leg cramps. I couldn't eat properly and was chronically exhausted. It was like they didn't notice any of it. My mother-in-law would douse herself in a ton of perfume and still demand that I do the housework perfectly.
Nick, having gotten a taste of married life, would bother me every night, pressuring me to share his bed. The sweet, kind boy I knew had turned into a cold, two-faced, quiet tormentor.
I put up with it all, because I knew I was to blame for all of it. If I had just gotten an abortion in the beginning, none of this hell would be happening.
Then one fine day, something happened that I could only have imagined in my worst nightmares. Their older son, Nick's brother, came to stay. His name was Victor. He had just divorced his wife and had nowhere else to go. He'd gotten divorced because of his drinking problem. It felt like I was back in my childhood. I was plagued by nightmares at night, and during the day, his perpetually drunk face would stare at me with a piercing, unsettling look.
I nearly fainted when I realized I would have to be alone with Victor, because Nick had gotten a job. He had just finished school that year, and the army wouldn't take him for health reasons. Since we couldn't live on just Maria's salary, they found him a spot at a factory. Victor, on the other hand, had no intention of working. He was drowning his sorrows over his broken marriage. Maria indulged him in everything, pitying her son in her own way.
When they left for work, I was paralyzed by fear. I would lock myself in my room to avoid seeing his drunken face. But I still had to get everything done before my mother-in-law and Nick got home—cook dinner, clean up. I would wait until the noise and movement stopped, meaning Victor was asleep, and then I'd sneak out to do my chores.
After we had been living together for a while, I started to relax a little. Victor wasn't a violent drunk like my brother had been. He would just get drunk and pass out, over and over. I started to feel a little more confident being alone with him and could even do things while he was awake. And that's when things took a turn for the worse. I started catching him staring at me. It wasn't an ordinary look; it was a lecherous one.
One day, I was feeling really unwell and decided to lie down for a while in the afternoon. I fell asleep. I woke up to someone groping my chest. I opened my eyes and saw Victor, drunk. Terrified, I tried to get out of bed, but he shoved me back down and lunged at me. I started screaming and fighting, but he was much stronger. At that moment, I remembered the first time, the incident that had ruined my life. I told myself that this time, I would not let myself be a victim, no matter what it cost me. I reached for a small statue on the nightstand and hit Victor over the head with it as hard as I could, several times. His grip loosened, and I managed to break free and get off the bed. He recovered quickly from the blow and looked at me with pure rage. He looked like he was ready to kill me. I ran, but I tripped on the doorstep and fell. At that same instant, I felt an unbearable pain in my lower abdomen. I closed my eyes and lost consciousness.
When I opened my eyes in a hospital room, I saw my mom and my aunt. They were sitting there, looking at me with worried expressions. I noticed that my belly, which had been noticeably rounded, was gone. I tried to say something, but I couldn't speak; I was too weak. A doctor came in and smiled when he saw me. "You're awake!" he said cheerfully. "We managed to save the baby. Congratulations, it's a girl!"
Apparently, the impact had caused my water to break, and they had to perform an emergency C-section. I was only seven months along. Thank God Victor had the sense to call an ambulance. Otherwise, both my daughter and I would be dead.
I named her Hope. She was in a special incubator that kept her at a stable temperature. At first, they wouldn't let me near her because of the high risk of infection. They fed her through special tubes with amino acid solutions and glucose. She weighed only 1.7 kilograms. But the doctors said Hope was a strong little girl and was gaining weight quickly. I couldn't wait.
It was so strange to feel those maternal instincts, unfamiliar but incredibly warm. Nick, on the other hand, didn't seem to have any paternal feelings at all. He came to visit me once after I woke up. As it turned out, Victor hadn't told them a thing about what really happened that day. When I told Nick everything, he didn't believe me.
"He couldn't have done that! I know he's going through a tough time right now, but he wouldn't do that!" Nick insisted.
After Nick left, Maria showed up the next day. Nick must have told her. Victor, of course, denied everything, and she believed her son, not some insolent brat who had barged into their lives with all her problems.
She came into the hospital and started screaming at me, accusing me of seducing her poor, innocent Victor. She said I was the one who had been flaunting myself in front of him, and he was just a man, going through a divorce. She was hysterical. She was terrified I would file a police report against Victor for attempted rape.
And, of course, being the kind soul that I am, I didn't. I decided I would raise my little Hope on my own. That family had shown me exactly who they were. I had no intention of going back to that madhouse. Especially since no one there really wanted us anyway. This was my fate to deal with alone. After all, Nick wasn't really to blame for any of it.
Hope grew like a weed. I never felt any resentment towards her because of who her biological father was. When I was pregnant, there were moments I almost hated her, and then I would hate myself for feeling that way. She was my daughter too. But the moment I saw her, everything changed. I am happy, despite everything I've been through.
When Nick came to visit us, I told him I intended to divorce him as soon as possible. I confessed that Hope was not his daughter. I told him I had stopped loving him, that I had cheated on him that summer, that I had used him. He said he had suspected as much, and then he left.
Within a month, Hope and I were moved to a regular room. I was finally able to breastfeed her. I had been pumping the whole time to keep my milk supply up. With good nutrition and careful care, she gained enough weight, and we were discharged.
While I was in the hospital, my older sister called and offered to let us live with her, on the condition that I would watch her son. She and her husband were starting a small business and had no one to leave their little boy with.
I agreed. What choice did I have?
My mom started visiting more often, and my aunt would stop by sometimes.
I received benefits for Hope, and in a short time, I taught myself some freelance skills and started making a decent income online. It meant I didn't have to rely on anyone financially.
I stopped holding a grudge against my siblings and even started reaching out to them myself—we are family, after all. I still don't talk to my oldest brother, though.
The divorce from Nick went through. I'm 17 now. I'm planning to enroll in an online degree program. A child is no obstacle to a better life. For Hope and me, this is only the beginning!
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