A Driving Force Within: A ‘Real Life’ Novel

By Bernice G. Dyck

As Molly Brighton returns from the west coast, to reclaim the city of Winnipeg as her home, her excitement and exhilaration are suddenly overcome as she struggles to come to terms with a brutal attack in the back lane. Still a teenager, and unwilling to interfere with her parents new outlook on life, she keeps the rape to herself, and suffers devastating pain and distress when she determines that she is now pregnant. Trying to decide how she should get rid of this unwanted child, she struggles between abortion and adoption. Hoping to keep her parents from finding out, to spare them the agony and humiliation that she is experiencing, Molly begins to weave a web of deceit, lying to her parents and to herself, as she attempts to handle this overwhelming situation on her own.
At the most desperate time of her life, a long distance trucker becomes her knight in shining armor, who helps her to deal with the situation and to re-establish herself into his cabin at the lake. Keeping her past deeply hidden, Molly is relieved that everything should now unfold in a normal manner, but this too was not to be. There was more to come almost more than she could bear. When Charlies deceits were revealed, and she had no one to turn to, Molly called on her own deep well of inner strength her Driving Force Within to help sort out her options and make decisions that would affect her dramatically, for the rest of her life. Several times, the future looks good ahead, but the present keeps changing and not always for the better, as her web of deceit continues to grow. Empathize with Molly as she bares her soul and seeks guidance and strength to go on!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 18, 2012
• ISBN: 9781468551907

Bernice G. Dyck

Bernice G. Dyck spent 35 years teaching people of all ages to live our lives to the fullest and to always be prepared to assist others, as we reach out and establish a loving and caring relationship with everyone we meet. What we do for others, whether they are family, friends, or strangers who we just met, will strongly impact how others relate to us! And the relationships we create will definitely impact our life in a myriad of ways. It's important to keep our eyes open, our hearts open, and our lives open to share with others. My motto is: "Go for the gold, and never give up!" Living in North America has enabled me to meet people from all over the world; people with different languages, different backgrounds, and different ways of looking at things! Appreciating our differences puts a whole new perspective before us! However, no matter what our past was like, we are all forging ahead, looking for ways to make ourselves useful and purposeful as we appreciate the years we have left on this planet! Put yourself into the book as Molly or Paul, and if you're younger, as Carolyn or Adam! What would you do differently if you walked in their shoes? How would you use your Deep Well of Strength to meet the needs of everyone you love? Remember though, that reading 'A Driving Force Within' first, can help us to better understand the background of the 'focus family'! And this sequel will fascinate you as you watch the characters grow older and become a stronger and a tighter family, despite the many hurdles they need to overcome! Enjoy...!

Book preview

Chapter 1

-1-

Molly Brighton paused with her hand on the doorknob. This can’t be happening, she murmured. Any minute, I’ll wake up from this ugly nightmare! Her heart throbbed in fear and despair. Maybe today all of her problems would be solved, and sanity and security would return. The past month had been almost unendurable and Molly knew that she couldn’t continue to live with shame, and fear and uncertainty much longer. Something had to change, and turning this doorknob should help her to regain control of her life. Summoning her courage, she hesitantly entered the dimly lit office. Timidly approaching the receptionist’s desk, embarrassed and completely out of her element, she muttered, Mrs. Molly Brighton to see Dr. Collins.

Hearing her stress the ‘Mrs.’, Pauline smiled. She was accustomed to single girls masquerading as married to save face. This one was obviously scared, but she deserved to be treated with respect, or she would run away, like so many others had done. Fill in your address and phone number on this form and then have a chair Mrs. Brighton, she responded reassuringly. I’ll call you when the doctor is ready.

As she returned to her paperwork, Pauline sighed sadly. She would have to get out of here soon, because the stress was building. She couldn’t handle many more of these illegal exploits, and she was determined to get out of this racket as soon as possible. She wanted to warn this young lady to get out of here as fast as she could, but Pauline knew better than to try that. Her own personal safety was at risk!

Writing quickly, Molly was happy to escape from the receptionist’s scrutiny. As she surveyed the tiny office, it appeared to be clean, but also run down and gloomy. The only two chairs were slightly tattered, and the lone painting on the wall was marred with an assortment of scratches and chips. Obviously Dr. Collins isn’t particularly wealthy, Molly thought, as she sighed, still feeling self-conscious and ill-at-ease. She worried that he might not care about his patients, and maybe he didn’t know what he was doing. Maybe she shouldn’t have come!

A shudder ran through her body as Molly sagged into one of the creaky chairs in this morbid little room tucked in behind a busy pool hall on North Main. Hoots of delight and loud peals of laughter from the men in the adjoining room drifted through the walls and made Molly feel even lonelier and more depressed. She had always been sheltered, and protected, and loved. She wondered again whether or not her courage would sustain her this time, or whether it would waiver again. I need your help, God! she moaned. Can I go through with this? Can I murder this child? Inwardly she sobbed hysterically, as she forced her body to stay calm, and enticed her heart to slow down and relax!

What’s that Missy? croaked a smelly old bag lady as she wandered in and settled down heavily into the wobbly chair beside Molly. Her crooked teeth, coated with nicotine, gave her a ‘witchy’ appearance as she grinned broadly. Her hair was scraggly and matted, and her dirty brown dress hung on her like a gunny sack. It’ll be a’ right Lovey, she crooned as she reached over with her gnarled old hand to pat Molly’s. I’ve had four o’ these m’self, she whispered consolingly as she continued to caress Molly’s hand. I was young an’ pretty once too, ya know.

Molly pulled back in revulsion as the smell of damp, mouldy wool mixed with stale beer, urine, and sweat assailed her nostrils. Four of them! she gasped. Is this the path I’ve chosen? Will I be like this ugly old woman someday if I go through with this—penniless, alone, and an outcaste? Will I ever forgive myself? No! she screamed inwardly. Why did this happen to me? I don’t even know myself anymore! I must get this over with and straighten out my life before it’s too late. It’s so unfair! Covering her face with her hands, Molly stifled an anguished sob and tried to regain her composure. She had always been strong and determined. She must tap the well of inner strength once more; she had to survive the next few weeks. Maybe then her life could become normal!

Come along Nora! Pauline snapped, appearing suddenly from out of the gloom. I told you before that you can’t rest here, bothering the patients. Move down the street to the Salvation Army, and join your friends. You better hurry, before the soup is gone, she added as she pushed the pitiful old lady out of the door and then wiped her hands on the front of her uniform, shaking her head in disgust. Come right this way, Mrs. Brighton, she added, ushering Molly into a dreary little room and gesturing for her to have a seat. You’ll be more comfortable here, and Dr. Collins will be with you soon.

Molly shuddered as she collapsed into the chair in the inner office, completely distraught. She hadn’t slept well in days, as she worried constantly about what to do. Murdering babies wasn’t something she liked to think about, but what choice did she have? What if it was a monster—deformed, or retarded, or insane like its father? Stop worrying, Molly whispered to herself. You’ve been over all of this before. Rape was certainly reason enough for an abortion, but looking around, Molly was no longer sure that this was the only solution to her nightmare. What if the baby was healthy? What if it was born alive? She had heard stories of babies aborted in the fourth month who were crying when they were put into a plastic bag, and carried to the incinerator. Stop it! she moaned, burying her face in her hands. Every time she challenged her plans, she broke down. There was no viable solution! She just wanted to erase the past few weeks!

Seconds later a rather portly, elderly man in a green smock poked his balding head in the door. What’s wrong? he demanded.

I… I’m sorry, Molly entreated. I was just feeling sorry for myself, she sobbed.

Well sit quietly, he interrupted impatiently. I’ll be with you in a few minutes. There are two others ahead of you, he added a little more kindly when he saw the shocked look on Molly’s face, so grab a magazine to take your mind off your problems, okay? I’ll be with you as soon as I can.

Sinking back into the chair and feeling embarrassed, Molly forced her mind to turn back to a happier time before she got herself into this mess. Remembering the trip was far more pleasant than remembering the rape. But it seemed to be another life that she was remembering—another person. She sighed and relaxed for the first time in weeks as she let her mind drift back and relive parts of her recent trip to Manitoba. It hadn’t started very well. Recalling the trip in detail, Molly shook her head. Perhaps those narrow escapes they later laughed about were meant to be an omen, a warning of the evil that awaited her in Manitoba.

-2-

The trip had begun on a Monday morning—June 26th, 1961. Amidst a tearful farewell, the Three Musketeers as Donald liked to call them, said their Good-bye’s to family and friends and boarded the ferry. After spending ten years on Vancouver Island, Molly Brighton and her family were moving back home to Manitoba. Jack Brighton, her dad, had gone in April and he now had a good job and an apartment ready for them to move into.

Feeling adventurous, Molly convinced her mom to take the American route and see some new countryside, since they had travelled the Trans-Canada Highway between Vancouver and Winnipeg a number of times already. Although Betty reluctantly agreed, she remained worried about getting lost in Spokane, Washington.

But Molly was pretty good with maps and road signs, and all went well until they left Spokane and suddenly realized that they were on a freeway going south instead of west. Upset and flustered, Betty drove for miles looking for an exit from the six-lane divided highway. All of a sudden, she spotted a place where the highway converged for a few miles. Anxious to get turned around, she carefully made her way to the left-hand lane and put on her flasher to turn left, not realizing that she was coming to a complete stop in the fastest lane and making a U turn into the fastest lane going the other way.

I don’t think you can do this Mom, Molly warned.

I have to turn around somewhere, Betty snapped. We’re going the wrong way. I knew we’d get lost if we took this route! Brakes squealed behind as all the cars came to a grinding halt on the freeway and Betty impatiently waited for an opportunity to turn, realizing too late what she was doing. She had always been nervous about driving, and the squealing brakes and blaring horns put her into a state of near panic. It was almost too much for her when the man in the car behind her hopped out, red-faced, shaking his fist, and screamed, What in blazes do you think you’re doing lady?

Fortunately, an opening appeared in the lane Betty was turning into, and she took full advantage of the opportunity to get out of there. Squealing and swerving, she simply put the pedal to the floor and cranked the steering wheel hard. Donald chirped with glee from the back seat as Betty and Molly held their breath and prayed that they would regain speed and control in time to avoid a fatal accident.

Molly shook her head wistfully as she recalled how it took her mother several hours to settle down and regain her composure after that incident. They could have been obliterated so easily in a multi-car pile-up. No one spoke for several minutes as the full portent of what could have happened began to dawn on mother and daughter. Betty’s face was ashen and Molly watched her carefully as she searched for signs indicating the turn-off she missed before. You okay Mom? Molly inquired at last, breaking the strained silence. She was surprised that her mother, who was so easily rattled in a car, was still able to drive. I can take a turn for a while if you like, Molly offered.

Betty sighed, Thanks dear, but I’ll be okay. That was really stupid. I could have killed us all!

Everyone makes mistakes, Mom, Molly reassured sincerely.

Yes, but not almost fatal ones! Don’t let me do anything stupid like that again! Before long, Molly said, There! as she pointed to the exit ramp that they wanted to take in the first place. Betty nodded, but Molly noticed her shaking hands as she executed the highway switch faultlessly.

Atta girl, Mom; now we just stay on this highway, and keep heading east, Molly said as she replaced the map on the seat beside her, and sent a silent prayer of thanks for their survival.

As they wound their way eastward, mother and daughter began to relax and pay more attention to ten year old Donald who chattered away incessantly. Tucked in between bedding, the living room mirror, and boxes containing the last of their possessions, he was getting weary and bored. Unaware of the seriousness of the incident they experienced that morning, he was looking forward to getting lost again so he would have some more stories to tell.

The three Brightons spent that night in a motel nestled between two snow-capped mountain peaks and looked forward to a last half day of beautiful mountain scenery before the final eight hundred miles of open prairie. About nine-fifteen in the morning, Betty began to look tense. She wasn’t used to driving so much and she was always nervous in the car. Molly was seventeen, and had been driving for over a year, so she could spell her mom off and give her a rest, but Betty couldn’t relax when someone else drove. Molly was disappointed, but she understood her mother, and tried not to take it personally. The night’s rest had been good for Betty, and she certainly appeared to be refreshed and ready for this new day. But Betty glanced more and more often in the mirror that morning, and Molly noticed the tenseness returning. What’s wrong Mom? she asked. Betty didn’t say anything, but she jerked her head toward the back and frowned as she cast another glance into the rear-view mirror. Turning to look, Molly was surprised to see a blue Ford with two young men leering from ear to ear, tailgating so closely you could almost see the colour of their eyes. They would ease up so close their car was almost touching the bumper, back off for a few minutes, then speed up and almost touch the bumper again.

Those two have been following too closely, sighed Betty, glancing again in her mirror and looking more and more agitated. They scare me when they’re so close, especially on these mountain curves. If I ever have to stop suddenly…

Slow down a little, suggested Molly. Maybe they’ll get tired of following us and pass.

Easing up on the accelerator, Betty slowed to forty-five and waited for them to pass. With a long open stretch ahead, she was sure they would pull out, but they continued to tailgate. Even Donald was quiet and tense. Suddenly they all lurched forward as they felt a heavy bump. Turning to the back window, Molly saw the driver laughing hilariously as he pulled forward to give them another bump.

What are they doing? Betty screamed, eyeing the curve ahead with anxiety. Sure enough, as Molly and Donald stared unbelievingly, they edged forward and banged into the back of them again, sending everyone lurching forward once more.

Those guys are crazy! shouted Betty as she fought to retain control. Moving onto the shoulder, she braked slowly and watched as the car pulled out and passed, its occupants laughing hysterically.

Good work, Mom, soothed Molly, very much aware of her mother’s mounting anxiety.

Donald had been speechless, gaping open-mouthed at the two men in the blue Ford. When he finally found his voice, it was to add, Wow, am I glad they’re gone! The Ford had gone screeching past, burning rubber and swerving from side to side as the occupants put on a big show meant to scare the Brightons, and it quickly disappeared around the curves ahead. As soon as Betty regained her speed and began to breathe again, she started chattering about how scared she had been.

However, as she rounded a curve about a half mile up the road, she gasped in horror. Just ahead of them, was the same blue Ford, puttering along, waiting for them. How far to the next town? asked Betty as she slowed to forty.

About fifteen miles, replied Molly, putting the map back down. Just don’t let them rattle you.

I don’t want to pass. They’ll only pull up behind and give us another push, and we don’t need to be pushed down these mountains, Betty sighed in exasperation. Look at that. The jerk slowed down to thirty. I guess I’ll have to pass him. This is ridiculous! she added as she pulled out into the left lane.

Donald piped up, Yeah, pass him and then floor it. Let them eat this Chevy’s dirt for a change.

Donald, that’s no way to talk! Betty snapped as she attempted to pass. But as soon as she came beside the blue Ford, the driver laughed and floored his car, forcing her to pull back in. Much to their dismay, he then slowed down to thirty again. After following for about a mile, while the two guys turned around and waved them on, Betty finally decided to take Donald’s advice—pass and try to put some distance between them.

Sure enough, as soon as Betty pulled out to pass, the driver of the Ford decided to speed up again too. But this time there was a long, open stretch and Betty hung in, rapidly accelerating past sixty miles per hour to seventy and seventy-five. Still the jerks in the blue Ford refused to let them pass.

Almost simultaneously, Betty and Molly both spotted the narrow bridge sign looming up ahead. What do I do now? Betty implored, sounding panicky.

Stay with it, they’ll slow down! Molly insisted, not at all sure of what she was saying. But she was mad, and determined to stop being pushed around. Watching her mom’s profile as she pushed the accelerator down a little more, Molly could see that Betty was feeling the same way. Just keep her steady, those bridges aren’t that narrow. Two cars can always pass, Molly soothed, hanging on for dear life as their car picked up speed again.

Sure enough, just as the speedometer topped eighty-five miles per hour and the bridge loomed closer and closer, the Ford suddenly dropped behind and Betty eased her way back into the right lane, all of them sighing loudly and making angry comments about those jerks.

For a mile or so, they kept expecting the blue Ford to sneak up behind again, but Betty kept pushing seventy for quite a few miles and they never saw those jerks again.

Suddenly Donald began to chuckle and tease his mother. Boy, you sure showed those guys, Mom. Wait ’til Dad hears about this!

Let’s hope that will be the last of our adventures, sighed Betty. It may have been exciting for you, but it scared me half to death. If Molly hadn’t urged me on, we might not be laughing now, Betty remarked, casting a sidelong glance at her only daughter, sitting on the seat beside her. Thanks for helping me to keep my cool, Molly.

Those guys sure had nerve, Molly confirmed, remembering the incident with a sparkle in her eye. Yes, her mom had shown them all right. Molly chuckled to herself, remembering how the leer had been wiped from their faces just before they slowed down to let them back into the right lane, with that narrow bridge looming ominously, closer and closer. I’ll bet they won’t brag to too many people about how an ‘old’ lady and two kids showed them up, she stated.

Now, recalling the incident, Molly wondered about the future. Maybe those two close calls were warnings that I should have heeded. Maybe I should have been more careful, but how was I to know that this type of ugly humiliation awaited me a little more than a month later? Maybe I would have been better off dying of a heart attack right then and there, in the car, Molly thought as she wiped away the tear that was rolling down her cheek and sat back to wait for Dr. Collins.

-3-

If Molly had known then, what she knew now, she would have stayed in British Columbia. For, despite her valiant efforts to focus on the memories of the trip, Molly’s mind kept returning to relive the trauma of the rape. She squirmed and gasped as she remembered the huge hands mauling her body, squeezing and pinching, and those soggy lips pressing down on her, forcing out all of her breath. She didn’t even have time to scream before that grotesque face closed in over hers, and her arm had been twisted so brutally that she sank to her knees in excruciating pain. She was so shocked by the whole attack, the swiftness and the finality of the act itself, that she didn’t remember much. His pants must have already been open when he attacked her. She had wriggled and squirmed trying to free herself to scream, but the pressure on her arm had been unbearable and his movements were swift and sure as he lifted her by the pinned arm, squeezed her mercilessly, ripped her skirt off and forced himself upon her.

As they hit the ground in a heap, he released her arm and grabbed her throat so suddenly that she didn’t have time to scream—only to gasp for air once before her throat was squeezed ruthlessly. Refusing to give in, she tried to fight him off, preferring to be strangled rather than raped, when the blows suddenly began to rain upon her face and head and she hit the ground in a heap. Molly remembered about six punches before she relaxed, teetering on the edge of oblivion, while he pawed and clawed at her breasts and thighs. She vaguely remembered gasping for breath and trying to cough up the blood that was running down her throat from her mouth and nose while he entered her again and again. Finally, she sank mercifully into semi consciousness as he moaned and reached his climax, calling her a filthy tramp over and over again each time he brutally assaulted her.

Molly’s ribs still hurt sometimes from the savage attack, and she fervently hoped that wouldn’t prevent the abortion because the one thing she knew for sure was that she couldn’t tolerate having this baby inside of her any longer. Each time her thoughts were invaded with these horrible memories, she saw his huge hands again and relived the pain, the shame and the humiliation of waking up to find herself totally defiled, bleeding and bruised from being literally ripped apart, alone, in shock, ruined for life.

Sinking back into her chair and coaching herself to breathe deeply, Molly stifled her sobs and forced her mind to drift back—to remember how it all started. Was it really only four months ago?

-4-

Afraid to let her mind dwell any longer on the memories of the rape, Molly tried to kill the time while she waited for Dr. Collins by reflecting on the family’s decision to move back home to Manitoba, where Molly had been born. Although she was excited about starting a new life, it had been hard to leave. She clearly remembered the move to Vancouver Island when she was seven years old. Her paternal grandparents lived there, as well as her Dad’s brother and three sisters. They had convinced her parents to pack up and join them in God’s country as they called it.

Molly remembered that they spent Halloween on the train that year. She and her brother Tom had gone trick or treating all around the coach and people got a kick out of filling their lunch bags with cookies, apples, dimes, and whatever else was available. It wasn’t the same as dressing up and going door to door, but it helped to keep them amused and stopped Molly from pouting, at least for a while.

In the spring of that year, Donald was born. Molly and her grandmother had been sure that this would be a girl, and they were so disappointed when they heard that it was a boy, that they sat and cried. All the cousins were boys except for Molly, and she wanted another girl in the family so badly. Before long, however, they both discovered how precious this new baby really was, even if it wasn’t a girl.

Molly cared for her younger brother a lot, and ironically, it was she who had been the one who insisted on leaving B.C. when their dad became unemployed. She convinced the family that they had to leave before Donald got older or he would fall in with the wrong crowd for sure. He was mischievous, but so far he was still a pretty good kid, as brothers go. He was too trusting though, and lately he was starting to get pushed around by the wrong crowd.

Molly smiled as she remembered the protection racket Donald had been involved in. He started clinging to her on the way to school each morning, and when they parted ways at the turn off to the elementary school, he would bolt and run, which was definitely out of character. He had always been a friendly kid, but now he was reluctant to go out alone. He always wanted Molly or Tom to go with him. When Molly caught him stealing change from his dad’s jacket pocket one day, he finally broke down and told her his problem. Some junior high kids had a protection racket going. They were charging Donald and his friends a dollar a week or they’d get beat up. One of his friends already ‘had an accident’, and Donald wasn’t about to run into the same fate if he could help it. His fifty cent allowance didn’t reach, so he was forced to steal from his mom’s purse or dad’s pocket to save him from a fate worse than death.

Having big brothers can be a pain in the neck sometimes, Molly thought, as all the details of the incident slowly seeped back into her consciousness. But big brothers can also be a God-send sometimes—like that time when Tom and his high school buddies put an end to the protection racket. Those bullies were awfully surprised when Tom and his gang started demanding two dollars a week from each of them—plus complete protection for Donald and all of his little friends. After three weeks of scraping up nickels and dimes for Tom and his friends, plus being ‘pushed around’ by the big brothers of those they had attacked, the junior high bullies gradually learned to put their energies to better use.

It wasn’t just Donald that Molly was concerned about though. She had an increasingly tough time keeping out of trouble herself. Molly had nicknamed the town ‘Peyton Place’ as more and more teenagers began experimenting with booze and sex, and it was getting out of hand. Molly was sure that her parents would be shocked if they knew how much pressure she had been under. A couple of her friends had managed to hold out, along with Molly, protecting their virginity at all costs, but the fifties and sixties was a rough era for young girls committed to being different and refusing to get caught up in the anti-establishment trends—free sex, hippy communes, drugs, and all sorts of illegal and immoral pastimes.

Some people described Molly as stubborn, while others saw her as wanting to be different; refusing to be led. Actually there was a determination in Molly—A Driving Force Within that allowed her to be in control, to help shape her own destiny. Molly was a broad-minded and perceptive individual, who knew instinctively what was right for her. Unaware of the Holy Spirit at that time, she referred to her ‘Driving Force Within’ as ‘something special’—probably God and his angels helping her to live right. And ‘that special something’ seemed to be luring her back to Manitoba. Maybe ‘Mr. Right’ was there waiting for her—a tall, handsome, wealthy farmer or business tycoon with a mansion on a hill somewhere.

Smiling to herself, Molly remembered clearly the evenings spent sitting around the kitchen table with her parents discussing the need for a move. Not only was her father out of work, but Donald was slowly being sucked into a whirlwind of vandalism and daring exploits that were sure to lead him to real trouble if they didn’t get away and make a fresh start. He was basically a good kid, but his irresponsible buddies were a rotten influence.

During those late evening discussions, Jack and Betty proved to be more perceptive than Molly realized. Much to Molly’s amazement, they revealed their own revulsion at how the sexual revolution had spread as far as the adults of the community. Two different groups, who used to be their friends, had joined ‘key groups’. They met every Saturday and got drunk together. All the women threw their house keys in a bag and the men each drew a key. Whichever woman belonged to the key selected became that man’s partner for the night. The Brighton’s circle of friends was growing pretty slim as they refused to take part in such perverse entertainments. Yes, it was time to move on, and move on they did.

But not all of her memories of B.C. were bad. As her mind slowly spun backwards, Molly remembered her feelings at graduation; feelings that epitomized her life until three months ago. Leaving childhood behind is never easy. It was a time of happiness and security, love and trust, and she was thankful for a close family who instilled in her a respect for herself and all of her fellow human beings, together with a deep and abiding faith in her own abilities. She had been excited on graduation night as they stood on the ‘threshold of the future’. She thought of Diane, Judy, Scott and Gordon. Would she ever see any of them again? They had been so close. Gordon even proposed when he heard that her family was leaving, but Molly was only seventeen and not ready to settle down. She was sad, but secure at the same time. She was leaving her old life behind, but she was excited about the trip. As her mind eased back into the present, feeling abused, filthy, and more uncertain than she ever had before she moaned, What future is there for me now? Then Dr. Collins quietly entered the dreary cubicle and began to roll up his sleeves.

Chapter 2

-1-

H aving great respect for herself and her body, Molly maintained her virginity throughout her teen years through sheer determination and willpower, but her whole life had been shattered when she dragged herself upstairs that night, about three months ago, and fumbled with her apartment door. Eternally grateful that her parents had taken Donald to see a movie, she collapsed onto the kitchen floor and sobbed hysterically. Feeling dirty and defiled, Molly experienced extreme mental anguish, coupled with a strong physical ache. Her eyes were swelling, her nose and mouth were bleeding, and the bruising and bleeding in her legs and loins resulted in excruciating pain. Her mind had great difficulty focusing on what had just happened as she tried to sort out her thoughts while struggling to her feet. Frantic with fear and shame, she sobbed uncontrollably as she tried to come to terms with what happened. Suddenly, a feeling of urgency and panic swept over Molly as she abruptly realized that there wasn’t much time before her parents would return—an hour at most. They mustn’t find out!

In desperation, she dragged herself to her feet and stumbled into the bathroom. Reaching under the sink for the floor cloth, Molly moved as if in a trance, as she rinsed it and wrung it out. Still trembling violently and aching from head to toe, she forced herself to return to the kitchen and mop up the small pool of blood congealing on the floor. Opening the door into the hall, she saw a trail of blood drops running from the back stairs to their apartment; these too must go.

Hurrying back to the apartment, dazed and staggering like a drunk, she hysterically stripped off her ripped and blood-soaked clothing and jammed it into the garbage container in her bedroom. Staring in horror at her clothes in the waste basket, scenes of the rape kept flashing through her mind. She had gone down the back stairs to drop the garbage into the can in the alley. She was just ready to mount the first step to return to the safety of her apartment when her head had almost been wrenched right off of her neck as her attacker suddenly covered her eyes and mouth with his huge hands and threw her against the wall.

Gasping in revulsion, Molly backed off from her garbage basket, grabbed her bathrobe, and headed for the bathroom. Standing in a stupor, staring at the water as it gushed into the tub, Molly tried to force the ugly images out of her mind. She must think of a good story to tell her parents when they returned. The damage was done; there was no reason for them to suffer also!

-2-

This violent attack on her body left Molly even more self-conscious than usual, and she had to force herself to make her mind a complete blank as she endured Dr. Collins’ examination. Her body cringed every time he touched her and she had to clamp her teeth together to keep herself from crying out.

Sensing her discomfort immediately, Dr. Collins made it as easy for her as he could. He sensed real possibilities with this one, and he wanted to be sure that he didn’t scare her away. He completed the examination quickly and left the room while she got dressed so she wouldn’t have to endure his eyes upon her body any longer than necessary. By the time he returned, Molly had regained most of her composure.

Tell me about it, he said kindly.

About what? asked Molly, looking embarrassed as she tried to hide from herself.

About the pregnancy, and why you want to end it, Dr. Collins said kindly, trying his best to make her feel at ease. That is why you’re here isn’t it?

I… I was r, r, raped, stammered Molly as tears rolled down her cheeks.

I suspected it might be something like that. Do you want to tell me about it?

No! Molly replied emphatically. I don’t want to talk about it! You’re sure I’m pregnant? It couldn’t be anything else? she asked hopefully.

There’s no doubt about it, Dr. Collins confirmed. You’re about three and a half months pregnant I would suspect. I’ll have to do a more extensive examination to determine the time for sure…

It happened on July 20th, Molly interrupted, not anxious to undergo another examination. The embarrassment and humiliation were almost more than she could bear, and she wanted to get this whole thing over immediately. She felt defiled and dirty from head to toe!

Why didn’t you come in sooner?

I was in shock for a month or so, murmured Molly, covering her face with her hands and beginning to cry. And then I… I didn’t know where to go… where to find a doctor… to do it… and then I had to save up the money. Is it too late? she suddenly asked, imploring him with her eyes to say, No.

Well, it is somewhat late, replied Dr. Collins. Are you absolutely sure you want to end it? You won’t consider having the baby and giving it up for adoption?

No! she responded, horrified at the idea of remaining pregnant. No, just get it out of me, please, she implored, shuddering repulsively.

Okay, if you’re sure that’s what you want, that’s what you shall have. He smiled reassuringly as he added, I’ll have to take you to the hospital to do it at this stage, just to be sure. How old are you?

Twenty, Molly lied, almost too quickly and too loudly. Dr. Collins sat and looked at her with his eyebrows raised, so she added meekly, Seventeen, almost eighteen.

Smiling kindly and reaching out to pat her arm lightly, he soothed. That’s about what I thought. But everything will be okay. Rape is a legal reason to have an abortion, you know, but in this case it must be done immediately. Now if you’ll come to the hospital tomorrow morning at…

No hospitals! Molly interrupted. Just do it here, Doctor… Now, Please!

I’m sorry, I can’t. You’re too far along. Besides, this one we can do the legal way, so there’s no need to take risks. Report to the Mercy Hospital tomorrow morning at nine o’clock and give this to the nurses at the desk, he added, writing a message on a prescription pad, and passing it to her.

Sadly, Molly accepted defeat and stuffed the message into her pocket as she moved unsteadily toward the door. Don’t worry, Mrs. Brighton, the doctor added, studying her chart, by noon tomorrow it’ll be all over. Just go home and get some sleep. I’ll get the paperwork started immediately. Everything will be ready for you to sign tomorrow. What about your husband’s signature? It’s customary for this type of procedure to have the husband’s permission as well. Will he come with you and sign the consent?

I… I don’t have a husband, murmured Molly. He’s… he’s dead, she added hanging her head so Dr. Collins couldn’t see her eyes.

I’m terribly sorry, he responded, looking at her sympathetically. You suffered a lot already for one so young. What about afterwards, is there someone to take care of you when you come home?

Molly quickly lied, My roommate has a few days off. She’ll be there to help me.

Good, Dr. Collins added, looking relieved. Don’t worry about the procedure. Go home and rest and I’ll see you tomorrow morning at nine. Gently, he ushered her out of his office and watched as she slowly trudged down the hall and left the building amid a lot of noise from the pool hall next door.

Poor child, Philip thought as he watched her leave. This could be a tough abortion. There’s something weird about this pregnancy. I’m glad this one can be done in a hospital, just in case. Stopping at the receptionist desk, he directed, Phone the Mercy, Pauline. Tell them to have the minor surgery room booked for me at ten tomorrow morning. Mrs. Brighton is expected at nine; have them prep her for an abortion. Also have them notify Jim and Fred that I’d like their signatures and the assistance of one of them. If there are any problems with these arrangements, have them notify me immediately. Did you get Mrs. Brighton’s address and phone number just in case we need to contact her?

Of course, replied Pauline disdainfully. You know I always get that information from all of our patients, in case you have trouble collecting your fees. That was the last of your patients for this morning, doctor, she added. Mrs. Smith will be coming in at two for her abortion. Is there anything you want me to do for that before I go for lunch?

No, it should be routine; she’s only in her second month. Just run out and cash her cheque before I perform the surgery. I’m not sure about her financial situation. As soon as it has cleared, rap on the door so I know everything is okay and I’ll begin. See you this afternoon, he added as he grabbed his overcoat and headed out the door for an extended lunch, happy to have some free time. Things had been hectic lately. This new sexual promiscuity was good for his bank account, but not for his health. He’d get out of this rat race soon, he decided. The strain was showing as he trudged down Main Street for lunch.

Molly’s depression deepened as she approached her lonely room in a run-down tenement house a couple of blocks off of North Main. She hoped everything would be over by now. Instead, she had one more sleepless night to endure before picking up the pieces of her life again. As she rounded the corner, she marched right into a brisk, icy autumn wind. Huddling deeper into her second-hand coat, Molly quickened her steps, glad that she only had two blocks to walk before reaching home, such as it was. It’s going to be okay, she reassured herself, it has to be. But inside, a war still raged!

-3-

It had been your classic encounter—a small town girl arriving in the big city, full of hopes and dreams and ready to take on the world. Jack Brighton had already found both a job and a place for them to live, and the family was quick to settle in. Donald found two boys in the neighbouring apartments who were his age, and he eagerly began to anticipate all kinds of exciting adventures with his new friends.

Molly found a job almost immediately in the dining room of a popular downtown hotel and eagerly set about earning money while she applied for a wide variety of office and clerical jobs. Waitressing was okay as ‘a filler’ but it wasn’t what she had in mind for a career. A receptionist of some kind would be fun, or the manager of a fashion boutique. She was determined to do something wonderful with her life, but she would have to be patient and willing to start at the bottom. Waitressing would have to do. When you’re seventeen, bright, and have a pretty good life, anything seems possible.

Molly always did well in the top ten percent of her class, so she had the potential to go places, but she didn’t know where it was that she wanted to go. As the days sped by, she began thinking of going back to school to become a fashion designer, a nurse, a teacher… but there were too many options, so she decided to settle down with a waitress job for a few months, and take some time to make up her mind.

The first week of work was a whirlwind of excitement. After work each afternoon she went shopping at Eaton’s or the Bay. The downtown area had lots of exciting shops to wander through like the Met, Woolworths, jewellery stores, furriers, and Dominion News. Instead of taking a bus home, she walked, taking a different route each day, any street that led in the right direction and was new to her.

After being raised in a small town, she was fascinated with city life. She was slowly making friends at work, but, since she was quite shy, relationships weren’t easy for her. Things were falling into place though, and she was happier than she thought she would be. Her parents had begun to feel acceptance, to hold their heads up and walk with pride. Old acquaintances had been renewed, and both associates from work and neighbours extended invitations to come over and play cards or to join them at a movie. Yes, things looked great for the family until that unsuspecting trip outside with the garbage.

When fate deals such a tragic blow, one’s whole life can turn topsy-turvy within seconds, thought Molly as she shook her head, ruefully. Why me Lord? she sobbed, as she threw herself onto her bed, and cried as if her world was ending.

-4-

Twice that night Molly picked up the phone to call her mother, to come clean and tell her about the abortion, but she couldn’t bring herself to dial the last number. With trembling hands she replaced the receiver, and tried to convince herself that abortion was okay. She had reached the desperation point! In deep despair she threw herself down on the sagging bed and tried again to sort out her options, determined to make the right decision for herself and for this monster she was carrying inside of her.

Staring at the stained ceiling, she thought of keeping the child. But she would hate it and she could never take it home! Every time she looked at it, she would relive the rape, and she couldn’t handle that! Her parents would understand. They would love it and help her raise it, but she couldn’t do that to them. It was her baby; they shouldn’t be tied down looking after it. Too well she remembered when her brother Tom came home and said he wasn’t moving to Manitoba with them. He had to stay in B.C. because his girlfriend was pregnant so he was going to marry her. Since he had a job, and she didn’t want to leave her family, they would remain behind. Betty cried herself to sleep for a week before she came to terms with what must happen. Her twenty year old son was becoming a father and he and their first grandchild must be left behind. The decision was made and there was nothing she could do to change it.

Mom and Dad were great, Molly murmured to herself. After a small, quick wedding, the young couple were allowed to stay in the Brighton home until the real estate company could find a buyer. That would give them a good start. Yes, her parents were wonderful, she remembered, but the neighbours—now, that was something else again.

Many of their friends put on a good show about being such nice people, but they sure were quick to judge and condemn others. Their two-faced attitude was enough to make you sick. The family had endured more than their share of critical comments during their last couple of months in B.C. Molly couldn’t put her family through years of listening to people whispering behind their backs, Oh no, Molly would never do for my son. She was raped you know! As if it was her choice!

And the child—how would ‘the rest of the world’ treat it if they knew? Molly knew that, although her rape had been an act over which she had no control, her past would come back to haunt her and her child if she chose to keep it. Somehow she must put this thing behind her and forget it before it drove her crazy. She was sane enough to recognize the symptoms of a breakdown, and it was definitely time to do something—but what?

There was no way she could support the child herself. What would she do with it when she went to work? Gazing at the chipped door frames, peeling wallpaper and rust-stained sink in her poor excuse for a room, Molly was aghast at the thought of bringing a baby to surroundings like this. Suddenly the horrors of what the baby could be like flashed through her mind. Her high school Biology teacher told them how certain dominant genes ran in families and were passed on to unsuspecting offspring. Every time she looked at her child, she would see the rapist! She thought of his violent, heartless attack, calling her a tramp over and over as he violated her body again and again. She, who was a virgin, being called a tramp by a rapist! It was ludicrous to even think of him fathering a child. Could she look at the child without remembering? Would she ever forget if she kept it?

There was no point in going to the police and making everything public, which her father would insist on if Molly told him. She hadn’t seen the rapist at all. It was dark, he caught her from behind, and he was covering her face, and strangling her, until she almost passed into oblivion. All she knew was that he was big and strong and cruel… and she couldn’t stand to look at this monster he created—day after day, remembering, and hating it. She couldn’t stand the trauma. She was the innocent victim! Why should she ruin her life, raising some monstrous brat so he could grow up to rape people? No way! Never!

Molly had always been an anti-abortionist. She knew this was a living, breathing creature inside of her. She vividly remembered, from her Biology courses, what a four month old foetus looked like, and hers was already three and a half months, Dr. Collins said. Counting back, she acknowledged that he was correct. This must be my fourteenth week of pregnancy now, she muttered. She knew her parents would never condone this abortion, but she had already ruled out talking to them about it.

Even anti-abortionists condoned abortion in rape cases didn’t they? she asked herself. Of course they do, she answered, trying desperately to convince herself that she was making the right decision. The mental anguish was too much for the mother to bear, right? It wasn’t fair to ruin her life, was it? Tell me about it! Molly ranted, sarcastically. The doctor had even affirmed that abortion was legal in rape cases. It could be done in a nice sterile hospital, not some dingy backdoor clinic. If the law is even on my side, it must be okay, Molly convinced herself. But no one must know, she decided as she struggled with the issue. Could it be kept secret if she went that route? There would be endless questions at the hospital, papers to be signed, and disgrace for her family. Molly grimaced as she thought about the pain and anguish she must endure the next day, and for many days to come, as she wrestled with her conscience, still uncertain that the decision she was making was the correct one. As she maintained her lonely vigil, her soul-searching continued. This was the most important decision she had ever made in her life, and she had to make it alone! None of the options pleased her! And her emotions contradicted her rational thinking! As her body racked with sobs, Molly found that making a decision was impossible. And so was sleep…

Suddenly hearing laughter and loud cries of Trick or treat coming from down the block, Molly remembered instantly that this was Halloween. Rising slowly from her squeaky bed, she felt like a traitor as she turned out all the lights so that her room would appear to be vacant. She couldn’t bear to face the ghosts and goblins that would be knocking on the door. She usually enjoyed handing out goodies, but she had a lot of thinking to do tonight, and