Nicola Muller

Her Nicci Muller Am I wrong to feel this way? I’m looking down at her tiny, lifeless body and I just feel… Nothing. How pitiful. Her face has gone grey and her lips blue. Like some kind of snow fairy. Frozen in ice for all eternity. She wasn’t even a day old yet. But that day is a day too old. She should never have been born. I was lying when I said that I felt nothing. I actually feel relieved. I cannot describe the hatred I felt when I heard her scream for the first time. The absolute agony I had to live through to see this slimy, wriggly creature howling like the wind, ungrateful and unrelenting. She ruined my body. My beautiful, sexy body. She ruined everything. My body, my career, my whole life. I wish I had aborted, then it would never have come to this. Why didn’t I abort? I can’t remember… I’m pregnant. I’m terrified. I feel disgusting and so, so violated. Why me? How could this have happened to me? I never asked for this. I never asked him to take a liking in me. I never asked for anything from him, yet he took everything. How long has it been now? Four months? Five? Six? I don’t know. What I do know is that I hate myself. I hate myself, I hate him, I hate it. This thing he put inside of me. I’ve taken so many showers. I can’t wash him off. I smell him everywhere. I want to rip my skin off; tear my flesh piece by piece until there’s nothing left touched by him. On the outside. I don’t know what I’m going to do about the inside of me. I see him everywhere I go. In the mornings when I run around my neighbourhood. In the car on the way to work. During my lunch break. Everywhere. At night when I try to fall asleep I can feel his eyes roaming over my body. I can feel his breath on my face, my cheek, my neck. Hot. Rancid. Alcoholic. My shoulders are still bruised from his unrelenting grip. I keep telling myself, “At least you’re not dead.” At least you only got raped… My friend, Angela, set me up on a blind date with one of her brother’s friends. Jacob or Jay or… Something with a ‘J’. His name is irrelevant, I suppose; at least right at this moment it is. I’m not too sure that I even want to go on this date, but Angela is right. I’ve been moping around my apartment for far too long. One date won’t kill me. I’ll go out and buy a new dress, maybe get my hair and nails done. I’m actually pretty excited. I haven’t been on a date in forever. He called earlier today! We made plans to go out for dinner this Sunday. That’s such a weird day to go on a date, are Sundays not family days? Does he not have a family? I must admit, he has a nice voice. So warm and smooth, like hot chocolate and marshmallows on a cold day. His name is Jared; the name suits the voice. Let’s just hope the face does too… I just got to the café we’re meeting at. Where is he? A tall man with dark hair and chocolate coloured eyes saunters up to me. He asks my name. Is this Jared? I’m not sure. He doesn’t introduce himself, but from the way he’s speaking, I can only assume that this really is Jared. We talk for hours and hours. It’s like we’ve known each other forever. She’s on a date with someone else when she’s supposed to be on a date with me. Who does she think she is? What kind of person does this? She’s clearly flirting with this man. Look at her laughing like she doesn’t have a care in the fucking world. She’s going to pay for this. I would say that tonight was a huge success. The guy didn’t end up being Jared, his name is Warren and I really liked hanging out with him. As for Jared… He didn’t even show up. If it wasn’t for Warren I would probably have sat at a table by myself for ages, waiting on someone who probably didn’t even exist. I mean, how would I know that Jared is who he says he is? I’ve only heard his voice and he didn’t bother to show up for our date. Or maybe he did and he saw me with Warren. Thunder cracks over my head and suddenly it’s pouring. Why, oh why did I decide it would be a good night to walk? By the time I reach my street corner I’m drenched to the bone and it’s freezing! I’m almost home, so I should rather just keep going. Besides, it’s not safe for me to wait out the rain here on a dark corner. That’s looking for trouble and I’m not that dumb. I sprint to the door of my apartment building, but before I can open the door I feel a sharp pain at the back of my head and everything goes black. Pain. Everywhere. When my vision starts clearing I’m on my back. What happened? Where am I? I try to sit up, but I’m shoved back onto the ground. Rain blurs my vision and I feel a tug at my jeans. Suddenly my jeans aren’t on my body anymore and fingers are shoved inside me. Sloppy lips slide over mine and my stomach lurches. No. Please, not me. Why me? I try to struggle against his weight, but he punches me in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me. “Such a nice little pussy. So tight, baby. I knew tonight was gonna end with me between your legs.” I recognise the voice. Who is this? I try to scream, but a palm is shoved in my face and clamps my mouth shut. The fingers are gone and I’m about to sag with relief, but then something else is shoved inside my body. I can feel myself going numb. So that’s what I am. I’m a freezer. Fight, flight or freeze. My thoughts are interrupted by a loud groan as he finishes inside me. He leaves me there on my back in a dark alleyway. I stumble into my apartment in a daze and I lock my door behind me. An hour later I find myself in the shower. How did I get here? The cascading water burns my skin. I tried my best to wash him off. To wash myself inside and out. How can I wash my memory? I want to bleach the memory from my brain. Sobs wrack my body. My poor, beautiful, broken body. How can someone do this? Why would someone do this? His voice haunts me. I know that voice from somewhere. I’m sure of it, but my brain can’t figure it out because all it keeps repeating is last night. When the hot water runs out I take that as my cue to get out of the shower. It’s late afternoon. This time yesterday I was getting ready for my date with Jared. JARED. IT WAS JARED! I KNEW I RECOGNISED THE VOICE! I need to call Angela. I need to know who he is, what he looks like. I need to do other things too. Before the sun sets. I’m never leaving this apartment after dark again. Never. I draft a quick list of things I need to get done before it gets too dark. 1. 2. 3. 4. Get morning after pill. Maybe two, just to be safe. Get screened for STDs. Fuck knows what that piece of shit has. Call Angela. Find out as much as you can about ‘Jared’. Therapy. Obviously I’m aware that I can’t go to therapy today, but I need to go. I’ve seen enough Law & Order SVU to know that I can’t do this without therapy. Unlike the victims on SVU, I refuse to be a victim. What are the police going to to for me anyway? I already took a shower so there’s no DNA for them to trace, going to them would be pointless. I’m taking care of this myself. I ended up getting three morning after pills, just in case. I swallowed all three at once while I was walking to a clinic. I need to get screened today. Angela answers her phone after the third ring. My screen came out negative for everything, by the way, which is a relief. Apparently she has never met Jared before. Her brother just went to university with him. Fat lot of good that does me. I end the call with Angela promising that she would send me her brother’s number. Jared Ellis. Meaning ‘benevolent’. The irony is not lost on me. It was easy enough to find him. There was only one of him on Facebook. He lives two blocks away from my building. The thought of his proximity to my home is unnerving. There’s a café opposite his building where I found a nice little hiding place right by the window looking out at the front of the building. After an hour and a half and a surprisingly good matcha latte I spot him leaving his building. I finish my second latte and start my pursuit. Over the next few weeks I stuck to this routine. Jared is a creature of habit. My period is late. I took two pregnancy tests and both have decided to ruin my life. I need to get a doctor’s opinion on this. I’m too far along to abort. This man. This fucking excuse of a human being did this to me. As if raping me wasn’t enough, he decided to impregnate me as well. I feel so sick. I hate this thing inside me. I want it out. I don’t want any part of him. I haven’t seen anyone in months. I quit my job and I’ve stopped answering my phone. I only leave my apartment for the essentials. I had a scan last week. It’s a girl. Irony after irony. My stomach has gotten enormous and I hate it. I’ve considered killing myself, but that won’t help because then he would live and I would die and he would do this to someone else. Pain. Everywhere. Again. I wake up in excruciating pain. My bedding is wet, my water broke. Like father like fucking daughter. There’s no way I can go to the hospital. I waddle to the bathroom and I start filling my tub with water. You cannot scream. I remind myself. No one can know. Cramps start wracking my body and the urge to scream is overwhelming. “Fuck you, Jared.” I hiss through my teeth. My body starts pushing automatically. Just like her conception, her birth was over fairly quickly. This might sound totally unrealistic, but I cannot go to a hospital, and so I find myself in my kitchen, pouring vodka over a pair of kitchen scissors, preparing to detach this leech from my body so that I can get the rest of this shit out of me. It won’t stop crying. Screeching. Wailing. She’s the embodiment of my pain and I, for one, can’t find myself caring about what I’m doing next. I shove her back into the bathtub, she’s thrashing against my grip, but I’m too strong for her. Eventually she’s quiet. I dry the body off and I wrap it in plastic bags before zipping it up in a suitcase. After that I clean everything in my house from top to bottom. After a hot shower I collapse into my bed, sheets clean from his sin. Sanitised. That’s how I feel. An overwhelming feeling of relief and sanitised. I almost feel like myself again. I have one more thing to do. ‘Two bodies have been found in a downtown apartment building. The following details contain graphic violence. Viewer discretion is advised. A father has drowned his newborn daughter in his downtown apartment bathroom, following which he committed suicide. A letter detailing his motive has been found and police will not be conducting an investigation. On the scene is CNN reporter, Kayley Barker…” “Wow, that’s so gruesome. How evil do you have to be, huh?” Warren’s grip around me tightens as we cuddle on my couch. “I know right. I can’t believe it.” I say and snuggle deeper into his comfortable embrace. Warren switches the TV off and helps me forget everything.