I was afraid at first, afraid of what people would say, family, him. I was alone, so alone.

I was happy cuz a child is something special. But deep down inside, I felt the terrible feeling of emptiness. like I couldn’t breathe. I felt weak. I couldn’t carry on by myself. After all that, I felt the depression come on. I knew I had to stay healthy for myself and for my baby, but the days got longer and my belly got bigger (at least I thought so) and no one knew the truth. The truth that he touched me, or that I couldn’t be with anyone without that terrible nightmare came back to my head, and my body. After this came the thoughts of death when I lost my baby.

My baby didn’t live, why should I?