A/N: Be careful. this story i wrote made me cry when i was writing it. I had to take a break because it was so sad and twisted.

enjoy, nonetheless.

Mom and dad think I'm was pregnant because I spent the night at my boyfriends house.

They vowed to make me take a pregnancy test. I told them I wouldn't.

Im a virgin. A fucking virgin. I tried to tell them that, pleaded, clawed, hoping they'd see the truth I was spilling forth. But they didn't.

They never do.

I'm in bed, half asleep, watching shadows dance on white walls. The door opens slowly, a stream of light pouring through. I shroud my eyes.


He walks to the edge of my bed, standing over me.

"You're a virgin, huh? And you aren't pregnant?" He asks with a grin I found unnerving.

"Yes dad, I've told you already."


With that he holds me down, climbs on me and begins to kiss my neck. I flail my arms, feeling the weight of his powerful body pressing on me. I'm confused, yet know what will happen. I shout, thrashing myself to escape his tightening grip. I can't breathe. My throat closes, my mind twists in pain and terror. He strips me, then himself, all the while a sock is shoved deep into my convulsing throat.

I cry, tears falling.

Finally I go limp, letting dad enter me, violate me, destroy me.

I must be dead.

I awake suddenly. The sun is blotted by milky grey clouds. I look in my sheets, finding blood, dried and brown, pooled everywhere on my legs, my underwear, and my pearl white bed sheets.

I cry.

I take the pregnancy test two weeks later.

It comes out positive.

I walk out of the bathroom, holding the stick in my quaking hands, tears welling in my eyes. I know what I'm carrying. I know.

Dad snatches it from my loose grip.

"Get out, you slut." He whispers, and mom nods, a scowl written on her pale features.

"We knew you slept with that dirty boy. Get out!"

I do as I'm ordered.

I'm carrying a child that was not my intention. I'm carrying a child that's not my fault. I'm carrying a child due to rape.

Rape by my own father.