The realization that one might be pregnant by one's ex-fiancé is daunting enough. When your ex-fiancé is also your rapist, any thought about a child are all the more frightening.

I sat on the edge of my bed, counting the days and weeks. I hoped to God Almighty I was counting something twice. After consulting the calendar, I found that my math was exactly correct.

I was pregnant with my rapist's baby.

No, I told myself, it might be stress or something like that. I told myself to wait a few days to be sure, but I couldn't convince myself.

I tried to go on with my daily routine, and for the most part I succeeded. The only time I thought about the possible child was when I picked Sunny up from school. Her friend wanted to come over for a while and hang out. I talked to the girl's mother and discovered she was again with child. She had four of them already. I congratulated her as enthusiastically as I could, considering (what might be) the circumstances. We arranged a time for the girl's mother to come get her and went home. Sunny slid in next to me and pulled her CD player out from under the seat. I looked at her and imagined for a moment she was the son or daughter I might be carrying.

She looked up at me and saw the small tears in my eyes and asked me if I was okay. I nodded, running my fingers through her blonde hair. I cupped the side of her face and told her I was fine. I sighed while Sunny got in the back seat with her friend. I drove to the apartment, not speaking a word.

The girls did their homework and I discovered they were both fans of musicals, which they talked about for nearly an hour. I walked into my bedroom, shaking my head, and went about drawing plans for an invention I had (literally) dreamed up the night before. As I worked, my thoughts circled around Quigley. Why I was thinking of him I truly don't know. It hurt me to think of him. The more I tried to push him out of my mind, the more I found my thoughts seemed to revolve around him.

At first, I thought about why I stayed with him in the first place. He had abused me verbally and emotionally, and he'd come very close to physical abuse once. At the time, I had been so deeply in love as to be completely blind to my darling's mistreatment of me and of his other faults. Was love supposed to do that? Wasn't love supposed to heal you, make you happy? I'd thought so. Looking back at the past few years, I recalled events and words that I had mentally filed under "Stress" or "Bad Days." I realized in those moments that those things were abuse. But he had never hit me, he had never hurt himself, and he had never (physically) hurt my family.

I also realized he had done much more damage with his words than his recent actions.

Despite those actions on his part, I was still having feelings for him. He had been, of course, the man I loved. He had been the man I had planned to marry. He was—might be—the father of my child. In the back of my mind, I sill loved him. In the part of me that remembered him as my sweetheart, I loved him.

But in another part of my mind, I saw him as the man who raped me. The man who ruined my life. I was the woman with whom he (might have) conceived a child, albeit not consensually. In that part of my mind, I will always remember him as the man who wrecked my life, the man I could never love.

I wanted him to be the man I loved, and the man who loved me. He wasn't. Not anymore. I was starting to doubt that he had ever been the latter. But I still thought of him, dreamed of him as that man. Oh, who was I kidding? I had feelings for him, although I wouldn't call them "love." I was attracted to the man who raped me. I had to deal with feelings and thoughts that I didn't want any longer. I loathe to apply the term "whore" to anyone, and yet…

I realized I had stopped working altogether. I put down my pencil and note pad in irritation, and got up to check on the girls. They were singing their favorite musicals now. I rolled my eyes. I heard the doorbell ring. It was the girl's mother.

I ate a snack and thought about the time he had almost hit me. It was only once, but it had scared the life out of me. He was having a bad day. He hadn't been in the best of moods, and to make things worse, the bad day was compounded by a headache. He'd been snappish all day. He came over to my apartment after Sunny got home from school, as he often did. He was sitting on the couch, with all the lights off. Everything was silent as the grave. I was sitting next to him, stroking his forehead and occasionally kissing his closed eyes or his lips. He took some medicine, but it had not kicked in yet.

Soon, though, he opened his eyes slightly and smiled at me. He sat up a little and kissed me. He was a very talented kisser. I blushed a little at the thought, and he deepened our kiss. Before I knew what was happening, I was sitting on his lap. He put his arm around my shoulders. I pulled back a bit, trying to get away. He leaned forward with me. His movements had matched my own so well, his tongue was still making its way down my throat. He moved so that he was slightly above me. I told him to stop. I was getting scared.

"No."

"Please! Just, please stop. I—"

"Just shut the f!ck up and do what you're told, Violet."

I was so angry, I pushed all one hundred and sixty-four pounds of him off of me. I got up hurriedly so he couldn't resume his actions. I pulled my thin black duster around me a little tighter, as if to reassure myself I was still clothed. I leaned against the wall for support, my knees going weak suddenly, and watched him. He got up and glared at me and calmly told me again to do what I was told. He didn't yell. He wouldn't take the chance of being heard.

My breath started to speed up. He was walking towards me now. I had nowhere to go. He was backing into a corner. I was scared, so scared, and he just kept coming. I stepped back, which only served to make my situation worse. I stepped back again and felt at my back the place where two of the room's walls met. I felt one solitary tear fall down my cheek from my left eye.

He was standing very close to me now. He grabbed my arms near the elbows and squeezed as hard as he could. Before I could do anything we heard, "Violet?"

Sunny had seen nearly the whole thing. He, of course, denied it. He was too much of a coward to do anything else. Poor baby.

Baby. Every thought somehow came back to the baby. I tried not to worry about it much, but I couldn't stop myself. I kept thinking about the changes I would have to make in order to accommodate a child. I'd have to buy newer and stronger locks for the Work Room. I would have to buy the necessary supplies—not that money was a problem, I made enough to support a baby, and we had more in the bank—I would have to baby-proof my apartment, Klaus and Isadora's house, and, most likely, Duncan's.

There were probably other things. I just couldn't think right now.

The phone rang. It was Isadora. "Hello?"

"Hey, Vi. How are you?"

"I'm…well—"

"I know. Stupid question." She laughed a little and added, "But something's…worse today?" When I didn't respond, Isadora repeated her question.

I sat down on the couch and tucked my feet under myself. "I've just…I've been having a bad day, that's all."

"What happened?" she asked.

"I'm depressed," I lied. "Everything makes me cry. I don't want to cry anymore. It's so annoying." I couldn't think of anything else to say or any other way to stall for time. I was finding it hard to give voice to my suspicions.

"Sorry," Isadora replied quietly. "I wish I knew how to help." After a moment, she added, "You don't need a shrink, do you?"

"No!" I answered quickly. "I might need some anti-depressants or something, but not a psychiatrist."

"Okay." She sounded as if she was tired. When I asked her about it she said, "No, I'm just worried about you."

"Don't be, Izzy."

"No, really, Violet. I'm worried about you. And I just keep getting this vibe like you're holding something back. Just tell me, Violet. Is something wrong?"

"For the last time, nothing is wrong."

"Are you sure?"

The small question made me freeze. If anyone could understand, it would be Izzy, the fellow female of the species. She was my best friend. It's not as if I couldn't trust her discretion—if I asked her not to tell anyone, she wouldn't. Then why couldn't I tell her?

"Violet?"

I didn't know why I couldn't. I started to cry a little, not knowing what to do.

"Are you there, Violet?"

She was worried about me. She wouldn't be this persistent if she didn't really care. She'd have let it go by now. You could always tell when Isadora didn't care about something, because she didn't say a word, as if she was listening intently.

"Violet, if you don't answer me, I'll hang up and come to your apartment."

"I'm sorry. I was…You really want to know what's bothering me?"

"Yes, really."

"I think I'm pregnant."

There was a long silence at the other end. It seemed to drag on forever. Finally, a small voice asked, "You're joking, aren't you?"

"I wish I was, Isadora."

"No, Violet, you might not be pregnant. It could be stress or something—I mean, Quigley was arrested yesterday and his trial should start soon—it might not be—"

"It is, Izzy. I can feel it. I don't like the thought of me carrying his baby either, but I'm nearly positive that's what it is."

"Nearly positive? What do you mean, 'nearly positive'?"

"I mean…I haven't taken any steps to prove it."

"In other words, you haven't been to see a doctor or bought a test yet."

"Uh-huh."

"Well, you probably need to get a pregnancy test, Violet."

"I know. I just…don't want to."

Isadora sighed. "Well, you have to, even if it's just to rule out the possibility."

"I know," I repeated. After a long minute, I whispered, "I don't want this. I don't want to be pregnant with his baby."

"I don't want you to, either, Violet." She took a breath and hesitantly suggested that she buy the test and come over to be with me while I waited for the results. I agreed. I didn't think I could take being alone right then.

Half an hour later, Isadora knocked on the door to my apartment. She handed me a small plastic bag from the local drug store.

"You're lucky no one we knew was there or I'd have had a lot of explaining to do." I smiled a little. I was grateful she could make me smile. I didn't know how much longer I'd still want to.

"Come one," Izzy said gently, taking me by the arm and leading me towards the back of my apartment. "I won't leave you alone."

It was the longest five minutes of my life.

As we waited for the results, I leaned against the wall outside the bathroom and started to cry. I knew it would be positive. I knew it. There was no doubt in my mind. Izzy held my hand and told me everything would be okay. You're not the one who could be with child, Isadora, I thought.

She's only trying to help.

I know. It's not working.

It's the thought that counts.

"Hey, Vi? It's been five minutes."

I turned towards the door slightly. "Will you come with me?"

She nodded. I walked into the room, nervous out of my mind. I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to have a baby, and certainly not by Quigley.

I picked up the little strip of plastic and closed my eyes. I looked down and saw the little blue mark.

I felt Izzy behind me, heard her whisper "Oh, God," and collapsed crying onto the cold tile bathroom floor of my small apartment.