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nerves got the best of her and when her name was finally called Liberty stood slowly, feeling faint.

“Hello, Liberty. Samad called me. He said you aren’t feeling well,” Dr. Kapoor said as she washed her hands and then put on a pair of latex gloves.

“I feel okay now . . . I . . . I’m here because I need your help,” Liberty stated as tears accumulated in her eyes. She began to hyperventilate as she leaned over and grabbed the examining table. She was besieged with stress, and this was too much for her to take. Abia hadn’t schooled her on this part of the game. She snatched the Muslim attire off. “I can’t breathe in this shit,” she whispered in disgust and impatience as she tossed it on the floor in frustration. She breathed in . . . breathed out . . . inhaled . . . exhaled as if she had been deprived of oxygen. Dr. Kapoor turned around and froze when she looked at Liberty. She could see the desperation in her eyes and as she looked at the young girl she could sense Liberty’s entrapment. She knew that Liberty was Samad’s paid-for-hostage, and she turned a blind eye to the situation because Samad paid her royally, but as Liberty stood before her, guilt began to eat away at the doctor. She remembered the oppression that she had come from, growing up in India. Liberty’s circumstance was much different but still all the same. Samad was oppressing her and when Liberty broke down in her examining room, Dr. Kapoor had to fight back her own emotions.

“I need your help . . . I know that he pays you, but you are the only person who can help me,” Liberty sobbed as she fell into the doctor’s arms. Uncomfortable and in an awkward position, Dr. Kapoor hugged Liberty reluctantly. She wanted to help but also did not want to lose the independence that she had earned by making connections with men like Samad. He had the power to shut down her entire practice if he ever found out that she had helped Liberty. Her conscience tugged at her heart because Liberty was so young. She had seen more than the average woman would see in her entire life. Liberty had lived through more struggles than the privileged children of America would ever be burdened with.

“What can I do?” Dr. Kapoor finally asked, deciding that as a woman she owed it to Liberty not to contribute to her downfall.

“He’s trying to get me pregnant. He controls everything I do . . . I don’t want to give him a baby. I never want to have a child for him. I don’t love him,” Liberty cried.

“If I do this and you get caught . . . you cannot tell him that I helped you with this,” Dr. Kapoor stated seriously.

Surprised that the doctor was even willing to help her, Liberty nodded her head repeatedly. “I won’t . . . I would never sell you out. I just need something . . . birth control . . . I’ll do anything to stop him from planting his seed in me,” Liberty whispered.

Dr. Kapoor sighed as she wondered how she had even become involved in this life, but she was too far in to turn back now. “Okay. I can’t give you a pill. He might find them, and my name will be on them as the prescribing doctor. I can plant a small rod called Implanon into your arm. It has hormones that will prevent you from becoming pregnant for up to five years,” Dr. Kapoor stated.

Liberty nodded her head eagerly and replied, “Will it hurt? Will he see it?”

“No. It doesn’t hurt. It’ll barely leave a mark, and he will not be able to detect it,” the doctor answered.

The doctor performed the quick procedure, and when she was done Liberty felt as if a huge burden was taken off her shoulders. Relief washed over her, and she looked at the doctor in appreciation.

“Thank you so much,” Liberty said. “You helped me more than you know.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied. The doctor knew that she had done a good thing, but she felt on edge as if she had just risked everything she had worked so hard for. “I’m glad that I could help you this time Liberty but do not come here again. I don’t want to be put in this position by you a second time. I will keep