When I woke up, I wasn't lying in my bed, the ceiling fan whirring above me. I was sitting on what felt like a cold bed in a dark room, and my hands were tied behind my back, with my legs bound. I could barely make out some chairs in the room. Other than that, the room was pretty bare. Then I remembered why I wasn't at home, and my thoughts didn't help as the bile slowly rose in my throat.

Crap. This is what I get for walking home alone at night. They teach you not to do that in 2nd grade, and hand you that Stranger Danger coloring packet. Well, I hated my 2nd grade teacher and thought everything she said to us was a lie. But I've learned my lesson now. She may have kept us from going to recess because we didn't finish our chocolate pudding, making us throw up on the tire swing, but now I understand.

About an hour later (at least, what I think is an hour; it's a little hard to tell when there's no light.), I heard voices outside where I presumed the door was.

"C'mon, you made a bet, now just go and do it." A male voice jaunts.

"Don't you mean, do her?" Another answers, a cackle following.

"Shut up. I was drunk. I didn't know they were going to act that way." A voice grumbles. They sounded familiar... "Can't you just let it go? Then, you wouldn't have had to go through all this trouble."

"Nope." The first voice said. "A bet's a bet, and when you lose a bet, you have to pay. So go **** her and get it over with, Jay." Jay?

It can't be him, my hopefull side thought. It can't.

Oh, but it is, my realistic side countered as the three spoke a little more. My mind went back to the conversation. 'Jay'... 'do her'...

My train of thought stopped as the door opened, and a person, definetly male, walked in, shutting the door behind them. Without realizing it, a whimper started in the back of my throat, and tears pricked my eyes before a hand covered my mouth, cutting off the whimper, lips brushing my ear.

"I'm sorry," is what I think I hear as he climbs on top of me, pushing me down into the hard mattress.

I won't describe to you what happens next, because I can't. I guess I blocked my mind from subconsciously recording what was happening to me. Whatever it was, I don't remember anything, and years later, I'm thankful for that. But I couldn't block out the pain. It hurt. Hurt more than breaking all your toes, then dancing in pointe shoes two sizes too small. More than watching your family and loved ones die before your eyes, and you knew how to save them, but couldn't get there in time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~four days later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I sat in front of the small cake and blew out the '15' shaped candles, while my parents sang "-Happy Birthday dear Camryn!" I didn't smile though.

I know you're probably wondering what happened during the past few days. Well, after I was kidnapped and… raped. Jay had knocked me out again with the damp cloth, which I now know had been soaked in Chloroform. I had woken up the next day tired, feeling sick, and hurting in places I never knew could hurt in an alley behind a small grocery. Somehow, I walked into the store, asked the cashier for help, and they called the police, who came to the store and took me to the station. There I met up with my parents, who told me I had been missing for about three days. My Dad hugged me, and I tense up a bit, but still hugged him back. Mom practically suffocated me with her scrawny little arms around my neck and shoulders. I then had to tell the officers all I knew, including that I knew who Jay was. I don't know why, but it felt wrong to tell them that.

The following day, they found and arrested Jay for kidnapping and rape. It was then I learned his full name, Japheth Levi Harrison.

That was three days ago. Today's my birthday. I'm fifteen now. I should be happy. I'm safe at home, with my parents. They're surely happy. But I can't get these few sentences off my mind.

Everybody knows what happens when you have unprotected sex, if you can call it that. Then why the heck are they not worried? I know they're happy to see me, but it's like they're oblivious to the unspoken question in the air. Could I be pregnant?

"Hey, Mom, Dad, can we go to the store real quick? I'll take my own money."

They turned to me. "Oh, don't worry, we'll pay for it. It's your birthday. What exactly do you need?" Mom asked, but I could tell by the look in her eyes that she knew what I needed. She shouldn't have to ask.

"I'll get it when we're there. But can you drive me?"

They nodded. With that, we rode to the nearest Wal-Mart. It was silent in the car, a little awkward, but not really tense.

We walked in, and I headed straight for the pregnancy tests. My Dad stiffened a little, but said nothing. I picked up three different ones, so I could make sure, then walked over to the cashier, who –thankfully- was an older woman. She rung them up with a sympathetic smile on her face, and I just looked at the floor.

Once I walked into the door, I high-tailed it to the bathroom, and locked the door. I'll tell you, it's weird having to 'go' on a small piece of plastic, but it could be worse. I use up one from all three boxes.

It had to be the most nerve-wracking five minutes of my life. When I finally turned over all the tests and saw the little ribbon of red on all of them, my question had been answered.

Why, yes, yes I could be pregnant.