I felt ill all the time now. Of course, that just probably has something to do with the fact of feeling dirty all the time. I feared I was slowly falling apart considering I haven’t eaten in…what days?

One morning I walked down the stairs to see my mom making dinner. She turned to look at me in my dismal state, “Oh honey, you got to eat. Please.” I looked in the pan with an expression of disgust. Ew, eggs. The sight, the very smell of them…ugh. I heard ringing in my ears and rushed to the bathroom.

Mom, of course, soon followed and leaned against the doorframe to wait. When I turned to look at her she appeared ghastly. She slowly began speaking, “Hazel…uhm…how can I put this…well…I think you’re pregnant.”
“What?!” I shouted, “But…there hasn’t been-” I cut myself off. There has been someone. That man who raped me. I looked down at my stomach and closed my eyes.

I was carrying the child of a sick, perverted man.

Just great.