She woke at six, and immediately the memories of the night before hit her as she looked into his still open eyes. “Good morning sweetie,” he said. She broke and once again started crying. He held her close as she sobbed, tenderly rubbing the back of her head. “Why?” he demanded while still being as gentle as possible. “I’m… I’m p regnant,” she said. He felt as if he had been drop-kicked by a prize fighter at these words. It suddenly made sense to him then why she had been acting so strangely lately, and also why she was so easily upset by the littlest things. “How?” She tried to bury her head in his chest again, but he pulled back. He knew she needed him more than anything right now, but he needed some answers first. “Sweetie, was it Bill?” he had to know, even if only so that he could m u r d e r the kid later. She didn’t answer, but instead shrank away from him. “…No.” she said. All he could think was who then? As they gazed into each others’ eyes, something seemed to click in her mind: he was not going to give up until she told him everything, and even after she told him everything he would still be there for her. “About a…a month and a half ago…I was… I was r aped.” His heart fell through his body and down to his feet at this point. His breath caught, and his lungs forgot how to breathe for a span of time. Openly sobbing again, she curled into a ball on her pillow avoiding his face. Once he remembered how to speak, he said, “I love you. I love you and I’m always here for you.” He picked her up and held her close to him in his arms, rocking slightly like he would if she were a sleeping newborn instead of a p regnant 15 year old. They stayed like this, not speaking a word, until well into the morning. At 10:47, her mom came in to see what they were doing. Upon seeing her daughter’s distress, she wanted to know what was going on. Remembering that he was there though, she decided not to speak until she thought she had to. Her daughter spotted her then, and told her that she was fine and would talk to her later. Seeing that she was ok, her mom left without a word. After her mom left, she pulled herself from his arms and stretched out on the bed, wounded arm hanging over the side. He messaged her back for a little while, wanting only to remind her of his presence and to try to ease some of her pain. When her breathing slowed, he knew that she had fallen asleep again, so he decided to eat, take a shower, and get dressed, knowing he would be done before she was awake. At 11:55, he walked back into the room feeling somewhat refreshed after the hot shower. He gently eased himself onto her bed and waited for her to wake. Five minutes later, she woke, sat up, and gave him a hug. Then she decided to take a shower, despite his very strong objections to her doing so. In the end, they compromised; he would check the bathroom, her clothes, and her pockets before allowing her in to the restroom, and then wait outside until she came out. It made them both feel a little better that he was just outside the bathroom. After she left the bathroom, he knew what they had to do next. “Sweetie,” he said, “it’s time to tell your mother.”
“No!” she practically screamed at him. He looked into her eyes and saw the sheer terror in them, so he easily took the three steps needed to reach her and wrapped his arms firmly around her. “Sweetie, she needs to know. Right now is the best time because you and the baby both need a doctor, and I’m here to support you as you tell her. Please.” For what seemed like the thousandth time on this already horrendous day, she started crying. He was amazed that she still had any tears left to cry, but that wasn’t very important to him at the moment; all that he cared about was that she was upset. He hated seeing her hurt so badly. She buried her head in his shoulder, crying still. He said nothing, but merely held her close to him and rubbed the base of her neck the way she liked. After her sobs quieted, she mumbled quietly, “Ok.” He started to pull away from her, but she stepped forward as he stepped back, keeping herself in his loving and protective embrace. Sighing, he picked her up and carried her down the stairs. He placed her on the couch in the living room, and then went to find her mother. Her mom was in the kitchen reading a book when he walked in. “She needs to tell you something,” he told her mom. He and her mom went back to the living room where she lay, just as he had left her, on the couch. Her mom took one look at her face and then sat down, hard, on the opposite couch. He took his place next to her on the couch, holding her comfortingly in his arms. After a moment of silence, he said, “Now is the time, sweetie.” Looking at her mom, he said, “Please don’t jump to any conclusions before you hear everything that she has to say.” With that, he pulled her closer to him and resumed rubbing her neck. He felt, rather than heard, her take a deep breath and release it shakily. “Mom,” she said, “you’re going to be a grandma.” The silence was oppressive while she allowed her mother to digest this. After an appropriate pause, she spoke again, “I did not choose to this course though. I was…” her voice broke and she trailed off, looking at him for help. He squeezed her gently and addressed her mother, “She was r aped.” Her mom froze, becoming almost statue-like as reality hit her. “Will you please go to her room for a moment so that I can talk to her alone?” her mom asked him. As he moved to obey, she grabbed his arm and said, “Mom, I need him right now. Please just say whatever you need to.” “I love you,” her mom said. “I love you too, mom,” she responded. Her mom left to find out what needed to be done for her p regnant daughter, leaving the two of them alone. “Hey sweetie lets go for a walk,” he suggested. She looked at him and nodded, probably feeling the same need as he did; the need to be in the cool night air. They had both always been that way; the night air calmed them down.
Walking slowly down the street, they did not speak a word but simply went along silently. He was barely even paying attention to where they were going, so he started when he felt her tiny hand slide into his larger one. Looking down, he saw their fingers interlaced and he smiled, and was thankful that she couldn’t see his face at the moment. “What are you doing?” he asked. She was silent for a moment as she considered something; possibly using his reaction to the contact to guess his reaction to her next words. “I don’t see you as my brother, not really,” she said. As she spoke, she looked down at the black pavement beneath them. He felt his heart race as he stopped and lifted up her chin so that she was looking into his eyes again. “That’s good,” he said, “because a ‘brother’ couldn’t do this.” He pressed his lips against hers, relishing in their silky-smooth texture and the way that they formed around his own. After what seemed like no time at all, they separated, both needing air. “Wow,” she said. He smiled at her, not needing to tell her that he felt the same way. That was something else special about them: they did not need to share their thoughts all the time to know what the other was thinking. Her dazzling smile lit up her face, and she whispered softly, “Am I only allowed to have one kiss?” Laughing quietly, he kissed her again, starting at her cheek, then her jaw, and finally her lips. After they separated again, they turned simultaneously and walked back to her house; her arm around his waist and his arm around her shoulders. Once they arrived back at her house, they both got a Sprite and went up to her room. Crawling on her bed, he propped himself up on her head-board, and she placed her head gently on his chest. After a few moments, she looked up at him and kissed him, making him smile. “Goodnight baby,” she said. He smiled again, even wider than the last time, and said “Goodnight beautiful.” She was asleep in seconds, but he stayed awake for a while thinking happily about the beautiful girl snuggled up next to him under the covers. Still smiling, he shut off the light, kissed her lips again, and reclined fully in her bed.
The shifting of her weight as she turned over in the early morning hours woke him, and he was so intoxicated by her beauty that he couldn’t go back to sleep. When she woke, it was to find him running his fingers through her gloriously smooth, caramel colored hair. She smiled up at him and said, “Good morning. How did you sleep?” He laughed, the motion gently rocking the bed, and answered with his eyes. Smiling angelically, she lifted her neck off of the pillows and kissed him. Something was different this time, something intangible but real all the same. He couldn’t exactly describe the feeling, but he knew that he didn’t have to because she felt it too. She put her head back on the pillow, and he stretched out across her bed with his back up, laying his head on her stomach. She ran her fingers through his hair gently for a moment, and then she started scratching his back gently with her nails. He shuddered at the pleasurable feeling this gave him. He felt her stop, and then felt the press of her lips on the back of his head. After she sat up, he did so as well. He reached over and took her hands, removing them from her lap in favor of putting them around his waist so that he could give her a big hug. “I love you,” he said. She pulled back from him, and for a moment his heart stopped at the fear that she may not love him that way, but then she said, “I love you too.” From downstairs, there was a huge crash, followed by the sound of glass breaking. He bolted upright and pushed her back onto the bed when she tried to do the same, saying, “Stay here. I’ll go check it out.” He quickly ran down the stairs and into the living room. Once at the door to the kitchen, he froze at the site before him: her mom was lying unmoving on the floor, a huge gash on her head.