'I have a dream'. Those four famous words, made so by Martin Luther King Jr.
My name is Christy. I had a dream.
This dream wasn't about peace or acceptance, like the great Mr. King's. This dream was about a life. Not for me, though. For her.
I was the victim of an R&R. No, not Rest and Relaxation. Rape and Run. Quite the difference, right? Well
things turned out even worse. Not only couldn't the police find or even identify the rapist, but next month
I skipped a cycle. Completely.
I was pregnant.
I was only sixteen when that happened. It was every girl's worst nightmare in this dark world. I was sick to the stomach, not from being pregnant but from having this horrible person's child inside me. Some stranger had effectively come and ruined my life. What monster had they given me?
My parents were pro-choice. And they left that choice up to me. Who were they kidding? I was torn. I hated this thing, how it got in me and that it was stuck there. But I didn't want to kill it. I wa