I don’t notice the door creak open behind me, only feel the presence of my father as he comes up behind me, following us as she motions to the small waiting area near the room. Small pink chairs line the room, and a small TV that plays the weather. “This needs to be said privately,” she says softly. I’m sure she’s talking to my father, but that doesn’t deter him as he takes a seat. The phrase alone makes my vision tunnel, and causes my throat to close, almost not managing the words to say, “He can stay.”
Taking a seat beside my father, I can’t help the way my leg begins to bounce from the anticipation… the nerves. Blake exhales and opens the folder, her eyes never look down, instead she focuses on me as if bracing for impact.
Fuck, I’m bracing….
“Upon her arrival at the Valley Medical Center,” she begins softly. “Priscilla Harper underwent a full examination.” The mention of her name settles like ice-cold weather biting into my bones, shriveling up my insides. My pulse drops into my stomach. At this point, I think I’m on the verge of puking, I’m sure. Holding onto hope that the words I think are about to leave her lips isn’t what I’m thinking. She sighs and continues, “She’s pregnant.”
What?
Did… No…
What?
The words, low and final, deliver a devastating blow. My ears ring, my ribs tighten, and the chair edges bite into my palms from how hard I grip them. Blake keeps talking like she’s narrating a horror story, and I mean, she is, but I’m the main character. The one living it.
“Gestational age confirms conception occurred during your captivity.” She lets out a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. “She claims you are the biological father.”
“No,” I choke out.
Already feeling my heart slowly giving in. Each word that leaves her lips is a punch to the gut, ripping the air from my lungs. My father swears in Spanishunder his breath... “Mijo, no. Breathe.” He turns to Agent Blake, shaking his head. I’ve never heard my father so upset… so angry and full of emotions as his voice booms. “He is not responsible for that child.” The sound is so loud and ugly that he practically jumps from his seat, moving forward like he’s ready to tear the walls of this place down. I don’t blame him. I want to do the same fucking thing. “No!Not after everything.Not this.I won’t allow her to keep hurting him from even being there.”
Blake lifts a hand, her gaze only reflects helplessness as she apologetically mutters. “I’m sorry. But given Mrs. Harper’s statements… and the results, we have a right to inform you, especially because of said claim. And if that’s a possibility, we need to determine the paternity to establish custody of the child once it’s born.”
The world tilts sideways, words escape me, and my vision blurs. My throat burns. I want to scream, but all I do is stare at the floor as it slides out from beneath me. All I hear is Ronnie’s voice as she repeats, ‘They raped us over and over… He didn’t stop... he would never stop…’
My hands begin to shake. I put them on my knees so it doesn’t show, but my legs keep bouncing. The words leave my lips before I have a chance to stop them, so many thoughts just ramble out. “I didn’t choose that,” I manage to say, my voice cracking. “I didn’t… She…” I shake my head, knowing it could have been a possibility I never sat back to entertain, but here we are. Blake nods, her words softer now. “We know. This isn’t a question of consent. You’re a victim in every legal sense. But the pregnancy is evidence, and protocol requires we obtain your DNA before discharge.”
My father explodes now. I’ve never seen him so angry. So appalled. So fucking mortified.
“You think he wants anything to do with that child? Withher?” His voice echoes down the hall before he reins it in, his chest heaving as he places a firm hand on my shoulder. Blake keeps her same stoic composure, her tone still gentle and low when she replies, “He’s not being asked to claim anything. Only to confirm linkage for the case.”
Case.
Evidence.
Procedure.
It’s all my mind holds onto, while everything else focuses on all the ways this will destroy my precious Ronnie.How will she look at me?It makes me question myself and my ability to love that child. To care for it? It can’t be her…
The thoughts are too much, the feeling too overwhelming. Before I know it, I feel the warm rivulets that stream down my face. Blake touches the folder as if it weighs a thousand pounds. “We informed you privately because of Ms. Vargas’s current emotional state. Her doctors noted she’s not stable enough for traumatic disclosures. We will advise you not to speak about this until everything is confirmed, which will take time, given how early into the pregnancy Mrs. Harper currently is.”
My heart clenches, the weight of her words crushes me. Not yet. Hold on to this secret until it suffocates me. Finally, I look up at Agent Blake, so she can witness my despair, and I can find a reason for all of this. I shake my head, silently agreeing with myself that I can never tell her. I can’t. I’ll lose her. Because once she knows, the gap between us will become a canyon neither of us survives. I clear my throat because obviously, she’s waiting for me to say something. “I need a minute.”
Blake nods. “Of course. We’ll swab you before discharge and store your DNA till it’s time.”
She walks away, my eyes tracking her movements as my father squeezes my shoulder, fingers tight around me, his voice low, breaking. “Iz… I’m so sorry, Son. You don’t have to be responsible for that child.” The way he says the word is heavy with disgust. My mind spirals deeper into despair.
She’s pregnant...
My head hangs, and all I do is swallow repeatedly as I try to blink away the burn behind my eyes and force myself to stand. To face her, slowly I walk back towards the room. Each step heavier than the last, my heart breaking for the girlsleeping in that hospital bed, pregnant with my child. I pause at the door and rest my forehead on the cool surface, trying to calm my beating heart.
“How am I supposed to do this?” Dad's hands rest firmly on my back, and he rubs, soothing me like he did the night my mother died. “You don’t have to.”
My brows raise, my head shifting to the side as I question one of the most responsible men I know and love. “I don’t.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t, and you can make it clear.”
“How?”
