A/N: Wahay, chapter three! I love writing this (: Kirsty's awesome, don't you think?
Oh, and just so you know; this chapter skips ahead a little.

23% of women experience sexual assault as an adult.
5% of women experience rape.
40% of those who are raped tell no one about it.
Worldwide, around 2,080,000 women are raped per year.
Most perpetrators are male, most victims female.
Each reported rape costs society over £76,000.
The perpetrator is far more likely to be someone you know than a stranger.
Of all the cases of rape reported, in less than 6% of them will the offender be convicted.

So many numbers, so many lives that have been ruined.
It's weird to think that I fit somewhere into these statistics.
I'm just another number. Another life.

It had been almost three months since that night. Three months since I had nearly lost my job because of him. Three months since I managed to throw away my chance of ever having a real relationship again.

I sat on the toilet lid, staring at the white plastic stick in my hand, my eyes wide but my senses numb. How I hated that little blue cross; for the second time in my life it was filling me with panic and worry.
What made it worse is that up until that night three months back, me and Warren hadn't made love for a very long time.
This child wasn't just an unplanned one.
It was a rape baby.

"Kirst?" the voice brought me out of my reverie, and I quickly wrapped the pregnancy test in some toilet paper before throwing it away in disgust.
"Yeah?" I called back. I popped my head round the our room's door. Warren was still in bed, surrounded by cushions and means of entertainment.
"What's wrong?" he asked, having obviously read the look on my face.
"Oh, nothing. Just about to pop out to work actually." the lies came easily.
"Ah. Okay. See you later." I nodded, and sighed as I pulled out of the room. Such a normal, healthy conversation- is that how we appeared to outsiders? Just an average couple, free from the chains of abuse and pain. Maybe it's better that way, for us to be wrapped up in our own little bubble- or is it the other way round? At times, it seems like it's the rest of the world that lives in its own perception, and for us the bubble has popped, leaving only the harsh, bitter remnants of reality to face up to.

I've often heard in the news about women who've had their lives as they know it torn apart because they have been raped, and I often wonder; is that how I was supposed to feel? Sure, I felt horrible and dirty, I was sore and hysterical, but while life comes to an abrupt halt for millions of women, why did mine simply carry on as if nothing had happened?
Maybe it was for my daughter. Maybe it was because I felt I had to protect the person I once was, and not show the scars of a broken woman to the rest of the world.
Perhaps I shouldn't compare my misfortune to others', but to me it seemed like if anything, I had more right to feel broken and empty than those people who are cornered by a stranger in a dark alleyway. Because those women will never have to see the offender again unless they go to court. They will never have to hear him say their name, wrap his arms around them in a pathetic attempt to seem compassionate, or ask for their help doing things on a daily basis.
At least those women weren't betrayed by someone they once loved.

The first time we made love, Warren was so gentle. He knew it was my first time; because he trusted me enough to know that I would never cheat on him. We cared about each other too much.
The first time we made love, I was afraid that it would hurt- but I wasn't afraid to tell him so. He cupped my face in his hands, brushing back one of my curls with his thumb.
"It's okay Kirsty," he whispered, just loud enough for me to hear him. "I could never hurt you."

"Kirsty?" I suddenly became aware of my surroundings again. Doctor Hanna's hand was on my arm, and she was peering into my face in confusion. "Still there?" I blinked a couple of times, and pulled my fist away from my abdomen, where I had absent-mindedly placed it for the majority of the shift.
"Yeah" I muttered. "Still here."

When I was pregnant with Nita, Warren would regularly place his hands on my bulging belly and whisper to her in the hopes that she would start kicking. He would laugh, and say that 'it' was a proper little footballer. I myself often found that I'd unconsciously placed a hand to my stomach, revelling in the fact that my child was growing inside me- the miracle of life.

I was halfway through inserting a patient's line when I felt a familiar feeling well up inside of me. Uh oh. I thought. Muttering my excuse to the attending and the patient, I rushed through to the toilets, and threw up noisily over the bowl.
"Kirsty?" I cursed myself for being so loud as Tess poked her head round into my stall. "Oh, dear..." she leaned forward to pull the hair from my face, and rubbed my back comfortingly. I coughed a few times, then sat back on my heels.
"Thanks." I mumbled. She smiled, and handed me a tissue.
"It's no problem. Do you think you're coming down with something?" she put a hand to my forehead, frowning slightly. "You're not too warm... But maybe you should go home, just in case." I shook my head feverishly.
"No! I mean, I think I just ate something that didn't agree with me, that's all." she narrowed her eyes slightly.
"Okay, well if you're sure..." I nodded, and she sighed, getting to her feet.
"Alright then."

When I went into labour with Nita, Warren did everything for me. He had my bag, already packed, he breathed through the pain with me, and he told me that I could do it when I wanted to give in.
He was my rock.

"Adam!" I jogged down the corridor to catch up with him. He turned, and flashed me one of his charming smiles.
"Hey Kirsty. What's up?" I fiddled nervously with the hem of my sky-blue shirt.
"I, er... Can I have a quick word?" he raised an eyebrow.
"Um, sure Kirst. Hang on, let's go to the staff room." I nodded, allowing him to lead me through the unit. "So what did you want to talk about?" he asked, shutting the door behind him. I swallowed apprehensively.
"Well..." I struggled to find the words. "It's kinda... Complicated." Adam sat in the chair opposite me, pushing a cup of coffee into my hands. I accepted it, smiling gratefully.
"Yeah? Complicated how?"
"Um... Well... You won't tell anyone, will you?" he leaned forward, his expression intent and serious. He placed his coffee on the table beside him, instead taking one of my hands in his own.
"Kirsty, what's happened?" Just do it, I told myself, and opened my mouth to speak. Beep beep! Beep beep! Beep beep! We both groaned at the sound of Adam's pager- although inwardly I was relieved.
"Ugh, sorry Kirst. How about we try this again later?" I nodded, giving him a brief smile. He returned it, and left me to myself in the staff room. I sat back, sighing, and rubbed my hand over my very slightly bulging stomach.

I gnawed on my fingernail in apprehension. Me and Adam had arranged tomeet at the bar after work; a seemingly ironic place to meet considering what I was about to tell him. I'd ordered a lemonade. It was an innocent drink, but not what I wanted. Not what I craved.
After a good few minutes of sipping my soft, non-alcoholic drink, I sighed and pushed it aside, ordering a shot of vodka instead- not my favourite drink, but strong and simple. The bartender pushed it towards me, and I downed it in one, choking a little. I ordered another. And another. Finally, a flushed Adam came through the door and sat on the stool beside me, patting me on the shoulder.
"Sorry I'm late Kirst, that last patient was an absolute nightmare." I nodded, smiling briefly as he ordered his own drink. "So what were you going to say earlier?" I sighed. This was so much harder then I thought it would be. I wondered if I should even tell him. Surely he'd think I was a horrible person if I told him and I'd been drinking? "Kirsty? Are you okay?" he asked softly, his hand on my arm.
"Excuse me," I muttered, rushing into the toilets. For the second time that day, I threw up, retching over the bowl until my stomach was totally empty. When I'd finished, I curled up against the stool wall, my hands twisted in my lap. Tears spilled down my face as I sobbed away all the hurt. I don't think I was sick because of the alcohol, or the baby. I think it was realising what I'd done by drinking those shots.
A couple of hours of blessed release could come at a lifetime of costs for my child.

Only minutes later, Adam pushed the door to the toilets open.
"Kirsty?" he saw me sitting on the floor, crying my eyes out, and rushed to my side. "Kirsty! What happened, are you hurt?" I shook my head, choking out another sob.
"No... What have I done Adam?" he took my hand and kneeled in front of me.
"What do you mean? What's happened?" Guilt was welling up inside of me, and the evidence of that showed in my body language.
"I'm a horrible person Adam!" he put his head on one side, sympathy tracing his features.
"No... No you're not, Kirst! You're a lovely person!" I shook my head again.
"I am, I'm horrible! I can't do this anymore Adam!" he grasped my arms, gently shaking me. His eyes were wide and desperate, and worry dripped from his voice.
"Kirsty, you have to tell me what's happening! I can't help you if you don't tell me what it is!"
"Warren made me have sex with him, and now I'm pregnant!" I burst out, burying my head in my hands. Stunned silence filled the air, as Adam took in what I'd said. I waited for him to leave me to my guilt as I expected him to.

But instead, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around me, whispering comforts into my ear and rubbing my back in slow circles.
"Don't worry Kirst." he murmured. "It'll be okay, I'm here."

A/N: Sorry for all the short segments; I suck at doing really long ones (:

Thanks for reading, reviews are always appreciated! :D