Broken World

Broken World

(#2, Broken Beauty Novellas)

By Lizzy Ford, writing as Chloe Adams

http://www.ChloeAdams.com/

Published by Evatopia Press

http://www.Evatopia.com/

Cover design by Eden Crane, Eden Crane Design

http://www.EdenCraneDesign.com/

Kindle Edition

Broken World copyright ©2014 by Lizzy Ford http://www.GuerrillaWordfare.com/

Cover design copyright © 2014 by Eden Crane Design

http://www.EdenCraneDesign.com/

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

While the story within is a work of fiction, the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence estimates that one out of every six women will be raped in her lifetime with only twenty percent reporting these rapes. The crime and its emotional aftermath are portrayed in a fictitious setting in this novel, but are based on the author’s insight and experience, as well as experiences of other women who shared their tales in confidence with the author.

Any references to historical events; to real people, living or dead; or to real locales are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and their resemblance, if any, to real-life counterparts is entirely coincidental.

Chapter One

The news about my pregnancy hits the papers a day after my “incident,” as Daddy refers to it. I prefer to describe it like it was -- I almost passed out in the clinic bathroom after seeing the positive test results. Not even Shea, the head of my father’s public relations team, could hush it up before it was plastered all over the news. My best friend, Ari, finds it and sends me a link to an online article. Then two links. Then dozens. Most of them reference a source at the clinic. Bitterly, I realize it wouldn’t take much to pay off one of the people there working for minimum wage or one of the women down on her luck living in the barracks.

I can’t blame the clinic staff for talking. Instead, I’m angry with myself for not being strong enough to walk out after the test. I’m a public figure, which means everyone is watching and news like this spreads like wildfire.

I’m not leaving the safety and privacy of my closet today. No way in hell. I’m too overwhelmed to write in my journal, either. I feel lost and just want to stay hidden for the rest of my life.

By noon, Daddy’s issues a statement. Ari sends me those links, too. I start to read the headlines.

Joan of Arc: The conservative party’s new face

Senator Abbott-Renou’s Daughter Pregnant after Rape; Keeping Baby

 I can’t read any more. I close the browser on my phone and stare at the wall across from me. Whoever called me Joan of Arc was probably patting himself on the back. Overnight, I’ve become a martyr to the conservative cause.