No More Victims: A Phoenix Club novella

CHAPTER 7

Franny felt weird like she was... floating. She tried to open her eyes and her eyelids felt heavy, barely cracking a slit. Her senses began kicking in, the smell of her surroundings hitting the strongest. A powerful clean smell... and other odors she couldn't readily identify but seemed familiar.

Why does it smell like this?

Forcing her eyes open wider, Franny's vision blurred from sleep. She blinked a few times until things began to come into focus and she realized she wasn't in her room at the foster house. She was... in the hospital. Panic immediately knotted her insides and her breath quickened, heaving her chest. Had they operated on her? Gone inside her and...

"No..." Franny whimpered, her panic growing. But she didn't feel different. Wasn't in pain or discomfort. Would Emmy and Oliver do that to her—without talking to her first?

They wouldn't. You know they wouldn't.

She didn't know for sure, though. Not really.

"Franny?" Emmy walked over from another part of the room.

"What... what am I doing here?" Franny weakly gripped the arm rails and pulled herself forward, then dropped back when the room spun around her. "What's... wrong with me?"

"Nothing, sweetheart," Emmy spoke in a calming tone. "Dr. Grant gave you a mild sedative, to help you relax and get some sleep."

"B-But why am I here?" she choked. "In the hospital."

"Dr. Grant was concerned about you and so were we. After all you've gone through physically, you needed to be examined by a doctor to be sure you didn't have any internal injuries."

"I wasn't in pain," Franny mumbled. "I was fine."

"Some injuries aren't immediately noticeable."

Franny frowned. "Is there something wrong with me?"

The woman hesitated. "No. There's nothing... wrong with you, but..." She pursed her lips, her eyes misting. "Perhaps I should get Dr. Grant..."

"No." Franny grabbed her hand. "I-I don't want him." She swallowed. "Just tell me."

Emmy looked tired. Really tired. And so... sad. Franny knew what she was trying to tell her. Something Franny had known—or suspected—all along.

"I'm pregnant," Franny whispered.

Her chin trembling, Emmy nodded. "But I don't want you to worry about anything, darling. Everything is going to be all right. I promise."

Franny stared at her. "What do you mean all right?" Of course, she knew what Emmy meant but she wanted the woman to say it.

"I just mean..." Emmy squeezed her hand. "... no one expects you to..."

"What?" Franny whispered. "Want it?"

Emmy hesitated. "Yes." She sniffed. "Considering what happened to you... of course, no one expects that of you. And you shouldn't feel guilty about..."

"Killing my baby?" Franny spoke hardly above a whisper, her voice adopting a trace of bitterness. "Why should I? It's just a monster... right?"

• • •

Emmy felt paralyzed by the girl's words and wasn't sure how to respond. She swallowed a couple of times. "No... no, that isn't it. It's just that no girl or woman should be forced to give birth. You're so young, Franny... and how this happened to you... it's unthinkable to expect you to go through such a traumatic ordeal."