The girl's a nut

Sherry was not what you would call the average mother; at least not by the standards of the local child welfare agency. There was no doubt that she had given birth to the little boy nor could anyone question what she wanted in her heart but when it came time to actually loving the child she found it very difficult, almost impossible. This was not the way she expected her life to be but the raw deal that she had been dealt was obviously her fate as she had been told over and over again.

When she was just fifteen, she had been sent to visit her aunt Martha and uncle Burton in Chicago while her parents went to Hawaii to attend a coworkers daughters "destination" wedding. She had wanted to go with them, simply for the trip to Hawaii but her parents funds could not be stretched to take her along. After much consideration she had been shipped off to her godparents for the week. They were much older than her parents, almost old enough to be grandparents, but they did after all have a nice apartment overlooking the lake and it would be a treat; sort of Sherrys own vacation.

She liked aunt Martha and uncle Burt enough, that was never a problem, and from the gifts, cards and letters she had gotten from them over the years she knew it was reciprocal. It wasn't until her third night there when it all began to go downhill. Apparently her aunt and uncle were very heavy drinkers and by 7pm each night aunt Martha was passed out cold, almost dead to the world. The night that uncle Burt came into her room and forced himself on her was the worst night of her short life and once she was finally able to free herself of him she wanted to die. The next morning when she confronted aunt Martha, with uncle Burt sitting right there, they both just laughed at her and told her it must have been a bad dream; what she was proposing could never ever have occurred....foolish child!

By the time she realized that she was pregnant she was back in Connecticut, at home, and she had never told her parents of that night in Chicago. She knew she would never see her uncle again but had decided not to say anything since they both acted as if she had been nuts...laughing at her...who would have believed her anyway? She told her parents that she was pregnant in the hopes that they would help her with an abortion only to discover that they wanted her to go through with the pregnancy and have the child...they would help her get it adopted afterwards.

During the nine months that followed, Sherry would pray every day that the baby inside of her would die, that she would die, that the world would end...anything that would halt her from having the child, anything that could help her forget that night. She contemplated suicide, but could never go through with her plans. She just couldn't wait to have this thing out of her and no one understood why, except maybe that bastard uncle Burt.

The strangest thing happened though. When she gave birth she felt a love for the child, so sweet looking, he had her blond hair, her blue eyes; she decided to keep the baby boy and loved him deeply as did her parents. It wasn't until a few years later when she again realized that she wanted to kill the baby. Her precious Jason was beginning to look like his father, like the son of a bitch who raped her that night and her love for him immediately began to fade. Sherry didn't know what to do but she knew she felt numb inside; she knew she now hated Jason, simply for what and for who he stood for.

Although she hated the boy she knew she could never kill him but also knew she could not go on like this; he had her parents to take care of him. She finally got up enough nerve to do it. The night she swallowed the entire bottle of her mothers Valium was the calmest night she had in years. At eighteen years of age Sherry was finally at peace yet no one left behind, not Jason, not her parents, not even her drunk aunt and uncle could understand why she had chosen to end it........well, maybe uncle Burt did.