I was just a kid when the bastard took me. Well 17 years old I thought I was grown up but when he put me in this goddamned room, I felt like a kid. I cried for my mom, my dad and my brother. The first night was hell. He came in and raped me. I fought him but he was stronger. He held me down on the bed and fucked me.

"Don't fucking fight me." He hit me hard after I had bit him. It became a daily occurrence. I would fight and he would punish me. He cut off electricity for three days. So I froze for those three days.

"I'm sorry," I said timidly when he returned on the third night.

"Good." He stood above me. "Get undressed."

I shake my head. It was a bad time. "Please no." But before I could explain why, he backhanded me. I fell onto the bed and he was on top of me. He was stronger and heavier.

"Didn't you learn?" He ripped my clothes from me. I tried to fight but it was useless. Old Nick I have called him. He forced his cock into my mouth. Making me gag. But the worst part was: he forced himself into my ass. I have never screamed so loud. It hurt so much.

I gave up just to avoid the pain and to avoid being punished. I stripped for him as soon as he told me. He usually just stripped off his pants and underwear but tonight he got naked. "On your knees. Use your mouth." I blanked out all my angry and turned into a zombie. I knelt down and took him in my mouth. He was soon hard. "Lie down." I made no sound. I lay on my back, legs open and turned my head away. "So tight." He forced himself into me.

It hurt each time.

Each thrust hurt.

He never lasted long.

He always finished inside me.

The consequences made themselves known 5 months after my capture. I was pregnant. A part of him was growing in me. I didn't want it. But it was too late.

I told him and he still raped me.

He gave me pregnancy books. I read them all. I wanted to be ready for the birth. I had fallen in love with this child. Was that bad? I was 18, right? I had no idea.

He stopped with the raping when I got fatter. He brought me food and things I wanted. Vitamins. Baby clothes. I did not talk to him when he came him. I distanced myself from him. Only talked to him when I wanted something.

I'm in labor. I'm scared and I want my mom. He comes in just as I have pushed the head out. I swear he hardens in his pants. I'm practically naked and birthing his child. Then it went wrong. The cord was around her neck but I didn't know. He watched as I pushed the body out of me. He watched as I pleaded with him to save her. But he did nothing. He just watched.

He buried her in the garden. I know he did.

I made him wait 9 weeks before I let him touch me. I didn't want him. I want to go home. I sat in front of the TV and watched the flickering images. My day consisted of TV, eating, sleeping, cleaning and being bored.

I was pregnant again. 19 and pregnant. This baby was going to live. Yes he was. I was having a boy. I knew I was. I just knew. Okay?

I told him to get the fuck out when I went into labor. I was going to do this myself. It took him 6 hours to arrive. I cut the cord and lifted the wailing baby into my arms and whispered, "hello Jack." Kissing him. He was mine. Only mine.