A month after your brutal **** you quit your job, hoping to find better prospects across town and hopefully never see that man again. You decided not to tell anyone, too ashamed for what happened to you. “Maybe if I wasn’t so weak. I’m so pathetic how couldnt I fight him off?!” You think to yourself daily trying to cope with the trauma.
But one day, just when you were forgetting the **** and everything with it, you begin to feel funny. Food tastes different, you throw up one morning, and you’re tired all the time. You realize that more than just a **** happened that terrible day, you were impregnated by your ****.
This realization brings you to tears as you run to the bathroom to avoid being seen by your children and father. You cry alone for hours, begging for some merciful being to take it out of you, but you know you have **** but to birth the child and decide whether or not to tell them how they came to be in this world.
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