Creative Writing: Danielle Malinen

Task: Using a stream of consciousness narrative (in the style of Janice Galloway) write a short story to describe a woman who has ended up pregnant after a one night stand. You should consider her shock at this discovery, the options that would open to her whether she actually knows the father etc.
= Shit!! How did I get myself in this mess, I can’t believe this is happening to me.
I
Can’t
Believe
This
Is
Happening
To
Me!!!
And crying and dramatising the situation isn’t going to change anything because at the end of the day I am still going to be pregnant, up the duff whatever you want to call this predicament. I don’t even know how this could have happened, I’m still a virgin. At least that’s what I’m telling myself, to make these circumstances sound better. I don’t want people to think I am a slut, a whore, exactly what I would call someone if they ended up pregnant at this age. Maybe that’s what I am a fucking whore!

No I can’t be I don’t even know how this happened.
Wait a minute… Jenna’s party.

The flashing disco lights blind me. I move to the drinks table…

FIT LAD: Hey pretty lady, havin’ fun?
ME: I guess so [ I take a drink to calm my nerves]
FIT LAD: I’m Rob, by the way.

Before I get a chance to reply

ROB: So you wanna dance?

He grabs my hand and pulls me onto the dance floor. Normally I’m useless at talking to guys, but that vodka must have helped.
We dance for a while then I run to the toilet, the booze goes through me, to be honest I can’t really handle my drink. He hands me another glass and not wanting to seem like a lightweight, I throw it back in one gulp.
I stumble outside for some fresh air, he follows immediately, like a little lap dog.
He takes my hand and pulls my body towards his, he leans in and our lips touch. He kisses my neck and the butterflies disappear. My whole body goes numb. My head starts to throb. I screw-up my forehead, the pain is unbearable. I fall to the ground. My vision black.

That bastard must have raped me!

How could I have been so stupid. How could I have been so STUPID!!!

This is typical me, trusting someone I barely know. It’s not my fault for my bad judge of character. I blame my mother, I get it from her. She is so gullible, she will believe anything or anyone. One of those people. She would have to be a fool mind you, well she married my father.

Shit! My father, I forgot about him for a second. He always had this low opinion of me anyway. He always said I would end up pregnant at fourteen, hooked on drugs living in the street because my alcoholic mother would have kicked me out.

Well his predictions weren’t half wrong. I can’t tell him. I don’t want to see that smug look on his fat ball head and him saying and I quote “told you so”.

I don’t even no why I am so bothered about this anyway, there is an easy solution. Abortion. The lousy NHS will give me one no probs. I’ll just go to the doctors shed some crocodile tears, you know put on my Oscar winning performance, and it’s a done deal. You know doctors, aren’t as smart as everyone thinks. We just think they are because, they have a Degree (what an achievement).

I promised myself I would not cry over this, but I can’t help myself. I knew something was wrong after I missed my period for the second month in a row. I just did not want to face facts.

Fact: Britain has the highest teenage pregnancy rate, in the whole of Europe.

And I suppose I’m just adding to those statistics. But I didn’t want to even have sex that night, I wasn’t ready. I seem to be blaming myself for this, and its not my fault. I was raped. But why do I feel so dirty and incompetent?
I need help to understand.

I once read that:

Rape is the only crime in which the victim must prove their innocence.

When I read that article I did not think that I would any day be the victim of a rape, and be the one proving my own innocence.

Fact: One in three women who are raped, actually report it to the police.

And I suppose I’m just adding to those statistics, again. I’m not even going to bother reporting him. Why should I? There is no point. It’s not going to change anything. I will probably never even see him again.

I lie in my bed, my head shouting and screaming all different things at once.
Coming to consciousness, I read the clock 15:24. I stand up and head into the bathroom. I see the used pregnancy test, I pick it up, thinking it will have changed and now say I am not actually pregnant. I look at it = shit, so it wasn’t just a dream then. I throw it on the floor in rage.

Slamming my front door and running down my steps. I decide I need some fresh air. It’s not until now that I realise I really don’t have anyone I can go to when I am in trouble.

I walk to the park and sit down on the first bench I see.

My head is so messed up at the moment. I don’t know what to do. Two hours later and I am still sitting here, in the freezing cold.

For the first time since I found out I am pregnant, I have a decent thought. I start walking again. I stop outside this old building and walk inside:

MAN: Can I help you miss?
ME: Yes, I would like to report a rape. [the policeman stares at me with a blank expression. After all what could he say to comfort me]

That two hours sitting on the park bench made me realise, lets change statistics and nail this bastard.