This fight resulted in him walking out the 
door.  I had no idea where he was going, 
or when he would return.  All I knew was that
 I was now all alone in that apartment with a 
man who had previously made a pass at me and 
I felt very uncomfortable.

As usual, that evening my roommate was
 drinking.  I was sitting on the bed/couch 
watching television.  I remember starting to 
fall asleep in the middle of the show that
was on, when he once again made a pass at 
me.  I pushed him away, and he came on 
stronger.  He said awful things to me, 
pinned me down and brutally raped me.
Of course now I was petrified.  
What should I do? Should I call the police?
Should I tell someone?  Who should I tell? 
It was obvious that my so called husband
 didn't feel the situation was serious, and 
even more obvious that he didn't care.  He 
didn't even come back to the house until the
 next morning.  I didn't know what to do.
Didn't know who to call.  Didn't know who to tell.
So I did what most rape victims do.  
Kept my mouth shut.  I didn't know what would 
happen to me if I DID tell, which only made
things worse.  I changed that night.  My innocence 
in many ways was lost.  I became afraid of men.  
I became afraid of many things.

When I wasn't performing my "wifely duties"
I was asked what was wrong, and why was I 
acting that way.  I froze.  For the first time 
in my life, I didn't know what to say.  So I said
nothing was wrong.  I was just tired.  This of 
course didn't seem to satisfy him, and he 
proceeded making advancements.  I laid back, 
closed my eyes and prayed for it to be over.
I thought that maybe my "giving in" would 
take those horrid memories away.  I wouldn't be 
so lucky.  A few weeks later I was in extreme pain
and had missed my period.  After I began doubling
 over, my so called husband made a phone call 
to my grandfather to try and get his assistance
in making me go to the hospital.  I didn't think 
I was pregnant.  Then again I'd never been 
pregnant, so I had nothing to judge by.  I thought 
this pain was some kind of punishment.  I also
 thought maybe I would be lucky enough to die 
and end this miserable life I now had.  I went
under protest to the hospital, by my grandfather's 
request, or should I say demand.  He told me if I 
didn't go voluntarily, he was going to drive there
physically pick me up and throw my butt in 
the car and take me there himself.  I knew he 
loved me, cared about me, and worried about 
me, so this was the least I could do for him, 
especially since he'd done so much for me over 
the course of my life.  Got to the hospital, and 
they began asking all the usual questions, and 
then started running tests.  A urine pregnancy 
test and a blood pregnancy test were both run
on me simultaneously.  The urine test was negative.
The blood test on the other hand was positive.
 No question about it.  I was pregnant.