Breaking The Rules

Facing Demons

WARNING: This chapter contains rape and violence in a graphic and detailed nature.

Molly's POV

"Molly, are you okay in there?" Mom calls out from outside the bathroom.

"I'm just great," I mumble sarcastically, with my head in the toilet bowl. I start taking deep breaths, hoping that it will somehow stop the dry heaving. Fucking flu.

The door opens and Mom is behind me now, pulling back my hair with one hand and rubbing small circles on my back with the other, which by the way is not helping. Just the thought of it not helping, seems to trigger the urge to puke again, and then I do. It's really hurting now since it's morning and my stomach is empty, and nothing is coming out except this really fucking gross yellowish stuff.

"I think I should take you to the doctor, Moll. You've had this flu for a few days now and it doesn't seem to be getting better," Mom says, in her worried overprotective voice that I've heard more times than I can stand to remember.

"I'll be fine, Mom. Clarissa was sick a week ago with the same thing. It will pass," I tell her hoarsely. My throat is killing me from vomiting for the last half an hour.

"All right," she sighs. "I won't make you go today, but if you're not showing improvement by tomorrow, you're going to Dr. Norris, first thing," Mom warns me.

"Fine," I wave her off.

I start doing the deep breathing thing again, and I think it's actually working now, because I'm starting to feel better. I slowly get off of the cool, tile floor I'd been kneeling on, and make my way over to the sink, feeling completely exhausted. I start brushing my teeth to try to get that gross acid taste out of my mouth, but it still lingers a bit even after brushing my tongue.

I walk back to my bedroom and immediately get under the covers. I see the soda crackers and ginger ale sitting on my nightstand next to my bed, and gratefully start munching. I'm not really hungry at all, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes at this point to settle my stomach, and if I'm going to throw up some more, I'd much rather it be something instead than nothing.

I glance over at the clock. 9:13a.m. Another missed day of school. I hope that I don't get too behind this week with schoolwork. I hate missing school. It keeps my mind occupied and alert. I've brought all my grades up since my little phase of rebellion, and I even had perfect attendance until... that night happened. I can't even say it - in my head or out loud. I don't like thinking about it, but I can't help it. What happened to me is always in the back of my mind. I fear it always will be. It's taken me a few weeks, but I'm finally starting to get to the point where I feel okay to leave the house sometimes.

I simply exist. I look like me, I sound like me, but I don't really feel like me. I'm not sure who I am anymore. Mom and Justin want me to see a therapist, but it's so hard for me to even sort out how I feel in my head - how the hell am I going to talk about it to someone else - let alone a total stranger?

My thoughts are interrupted when Mom walks into my bedroom. She's dressed in one of her work suits, and I get a whiff of her Clinique perfume, which happens to smell as if she took a bath in it. I feel myself get a little dizzy and the urge to vomit once again returns.

"Jesus Christ, Mother, how much of that stuff did you spray on?" I ask her covering my nose with my hand. Mom looks at me strangely.

"The same amount I've always put - just a spritz. You know I don't like it when it's strong," she says.

I roll my eyes, and drop the subject. I'm not in the mood today to argue with her about how much is too much perfume to wear.

"Are you going to work now?" I ask.

"Yes. I told you though, honey, that it wouldn't be a problem to stay home with you today. I could have easily rescheduled some of my clients," she tells me, yet again.

"I told you I'll be fine. I'm not dying. I'll still be here, feeling like dog turd when you get home at 4:00. You can baby me all you want then," I tell her. She laughs lightly at that, and then leans over and kisses my forehead.

"Call me or Justin if you need anything, okay?"

I nod at her, and watch as she gives me one last worried look and leaves my bedroom. I decide to eat some more crackers and drink some ginger ale, and thank God, my stomach feels better. After a while I lean back on my pillow and start to doze off.

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I hear the doorbell chime, and go to answer it, thinking maybe Jenna or Clarissa forgot something inside the apartment. I'm surprised when I open the door only to see Grant standing in front of me.

"Grant? What are you doing here?" I ask.

"I thought that I should come back and help you clean up. It would save you some time," he offers with that gorgeous smile of his.

"Thanks... but um, what about Jenna?" I ask, knowing that she wouldn't like it if she knew her boyfriend was here with me alone.

He laughs lightly. "Jenna... well, she probably wouldn't be too happy that I'm here. She's a little jealous of you. But what she doesn't know can't piss her off," he says, holding my gaze.

I shrug at him shyly, and then start gathering up the paint brushes that I had used and carried them to the sink for washing. Grant follows me to the kitchen and helps me wash some of the brushes. He keeps looking over at me and smiling, and I smile back at him shyly, not sure whether I should be grateful that one of the most popular guys at school is giving me attention, or be worried that I might be getting myself into something that would cause me problems with my friend.

When we're finished cleaning up, I look down at the shirt I'm wearing and see that I got some paint splattered on it.

"Shit," I say, frowning at my stained shirt. It's not my favorite or anything, but still, I don't really want to walk around in a paint splattered shirt, and decide that I'll raid Justin's closet and borrow one of his to wear home.

Grant laughs, when he sees what I'm frowning at. "Looks like you made quite a mess there," he says.

I blush. "Yeah. I think I'm going to borrow one of my brother's shirts," I say.

"You could borrow my shirt, if you want," he offers. He's wearing a white T-shirt with a button-up flannel over it.

"Um, no, that's all right. But thanks," I tell him with a smile. I see him remove his flannel shirt.

"No, I insist," he says. He then removes his T-shirt, and I'm staring at his perfect, tanned and muscular torso, and immediately start thinking that being on the wrestling team has definitely been good to his body. I'm trying not to stare, but I can't help it. He's right there in front of me, and honestly I've never really seen a guy's body this close up before, not to mention a really HOT guy's body.

"You like what you see, Molly?" he says in almost a whisper and then smiles at me again.

"I... uh..." and before I can really answer him, I feel his lips on mine. I'm stunned at first, but then when my brain realizes what is happening, I start kissing him back. I can't help but get caught up in this moment, amazed that Grant Phillips is really here with me and kissing me.

It started out slow and nice, but now it's getting more intense and his kisses are getting harder and more demanding. His hands drop to my ass and he squeezes it. It's then that I start to realize that things are getting a little out of control and I pull away.

"Wait," I tell him, and wipe my mouth that his saliva has left on my lips.

"What?" he asks with a frown. "You want to move someplace more comfortable?" he asks lustfully.

"No... Grant, I like you, but I can't do this. We can't do this. You have a girlfriend, and she's my friend. It's just wrong," I tell him softly.

"I thought we had an understanding," he says, tracing his index finger over my lips. "What Jenna doesn't know, can't hurt her," he says, and then runs his finger down along my neck and chest and then to my right breast. I get a really uncomfortable feeling in my stomach now, and push his hand away.

"No. I can't. Look, I need to go. Thanks for helping me," I tell him and try to push past him to gather my things, but he grips my arms hard.

"Little Miss Perfect. Are you always such a fucking cock tease?" he asks with a icy look in his eyes. I stare at him in surprise, and try to break free from his hold on me, but he's way too strong.

"I wasn't trying to --" I start to say, when he grips my arms harder.

"Don't even deny it!" he growls. "You were fucking acting like you wanted it," he accused. "But I think you do want it, don't you. Don't you!" he yells. "I could tell by the way you smiled at me and kissed me," he points out, his grip on my arms getting tighter.

"Ow! Grant, stop. You're hurting me," I cry out, and start to panic.

"It doesn't have to," he says. His eyes are softer now, and for a minute I think he's going to let me go, but instead he reaches down to kiss me again. I pull away and slap him across the face, leaving my hand print behind.

There is rage in his eyes, and I don't even see him make his next move, I just feel the pain from his open handed blow to my face. I'm stunned by what has just happened, and before I know it, he's dragging me into the bedroom. I'm kicking and screaming the whole way, but he doesn't seem to be phased by it at all. He closes the door behind us and then pushes me harshly onto the bed and pins me down.

"Do you want me to let go?" he asks with a dark but slightly amused look on his face.

"Yes!" I yell.

"I'm holding you down because you're struggling. I'll let go only if you lay still and don't run away. If you try to run, you will regret it," he warns, I can tell from his eyes that he's serious. "Are you going to stop struggling?" he demands.

"Yes," I say weakly. He looks at me for a moment, seemingly deciding whether or not I'm lying.

"Okay," he says softly, and removes his hands from my wrists. "Don't fucking move, unless I tell you to," he warns, in a low tone. I nod at him. I want to rub my wrists because they hurt so much, but I'm afraid he'll hurt me if I move, so I don't. I feel tears falling down my cheeks, and I wish that they would stop. I already feel weak and helpless as it is, and crying is just going to make it worse.

"Take off your shirt," he commands, but is not yelling. In fact, he seems eerily calm right now.

"Please..." I beg.

"Take off your shirt now, or I'll do it for you. Your choice," he says.

I take off my shirt with shaking hands, and try to remain calm. If I don't remain calm I'll never be able to think clearly enough to try to get out of this.

"Now your pants," he instructs.

I slide my pants off, and he takes them and tosses them on the floor. "Very nice," he says, his eyes wandering all over my body. I feel sick as he removes his pants and see that he has an erection under his boxers.

"You see what you do to me, Molly?" he says, his breathing a little rapid. He slides his boxers down and then starts to touch himself. I shut my eyes tightly, not wanting to see this, when he startles me.

"Keep your fucking eyes open!" he yells. I obey, and open my eyes. He then removes my underwear and bra, and now I'm just laying on my brother's bed, shaking.

"Okay, this is how it's going to be," he says calmly, as if we're having a regular conversation about the weather, or homework. "If you struggle, I'm going to have to do whatever I have to do to make you stop, and trust me, you don't want me to do that," he warns. "But it doesn't have to be that way, Molly. This doesn't have to be bad for you," he says softly.

"Grant, please. Please let me go. I'm scared. I - I'm a virgin," I admit, hoping that it might make a difference.

"Virgin? Yeah right," he smirks in amusement. "You hang out with all those sluts. And I heard about you and Bobby Vega," he says cooly.

I frown. "Bobby Vega... We never - he kissed me, and that was it," I explain.

"You lying bitch. No girl has ever turned him down," Grant laughs as if I'm being rediculous. "He said he fucked you."

I sigh, knowing that it's useless arguing with him. He'll never believe me, anyway.

"Just relax, baby. Is it really so terrible being here with me? Do you know how many girls would kill to be you right now? You should consider yourself lucky," he smirks.

I feel my anger rise, and without thinking, I yell, "Why would anyone want this? You're a sick, deluded asshole!"

This time I see his hand coming towards me, slapping me hard on the mouth, and I taste blood. "Shut up, you teasing slut," he growls. I'm sobbing now, regretful that I had said anything. "Are we going to have to do this the hard way?" he asks angrily.

I shake my head no. He's got to outweigh me by at least 80 pounds. He's all muscle, and trying to fight him or outrun him would be pointless, not to mention it would just piss him off more and I really don't want to do that.

I feel him spread my legs, and my whole body tenses up. "So are you going to be good... or bad?" he asks, his body towering over mine.

"Grant... no... please don't," I beg, and start to panic again.

He grips my wrists hard again, and I see his eyes go dark. "Are we going to have a problem?" he says in a dangerously low voice. "Because I really don't want to have to hurt you," he says.

"N-no," I stammer.

"No what?" he says.

"No, w-we won't have a problem," I assure him in a shaky voice.

He gives me a satisfied smile, and then loosens his grip on my wrists. He then leans down and kisses me, and I feel my lip stinging where he had hit me. It's taking everything in me not to struggle against him, but I'm too afraid to make a move - I know he wouldn't think twice about hitting me again. I feel sick that he's touching me. My tears sting my eyes, as I realize that this is all my fault. I had let him kiss me, and even kissed him back. I flirted with him a little. If I only would have ignored him, maybe he wouldn't have come back and he wouldn't be doing this.

Then I just lay there. I let him touch me, do whatever he wants to me. I feel his mouth and hands all over my body. After a while he inserts a finger inside of me, and I yell out, unprepared for the intrusion. He looks at me curiously.

"Holy shit... you weren't lying? You're really a virgin?" he asks, surprised. I nod my head at him, and I start to feel some hope, thinking maybe he'll stop and show some mercy on me.

His finger continues to probe in and out of me. "That's so fucking hot. I've never fucked a virgin before," he whispers hoarsely. "I'll be the first one to have you," he says. He removes his finger from me and then settles in between my my legs. I feel him place his penis against my opening and I wince.

"Grant... it's my first time, please... don't hurt me," I plead, my fearful eyes meeting his.

"Don't worry. This will be an unforgettable experience," he says, and then I feel him push into me, and I scream.

"Molly... just relax..." Grant pants as he slowly moves in and out of me.

I've never felt a pain like this before. I try my best not to struggle or tense up, but it's no use. My fear is making me tense, and it's making it even more painful for me, and even though he's moving somewhat slowly right now, it feels as though my insides are being ripping open.

"Oh God," Grant cries out after a while, and then starts moving faster.

"It hurts," I tell him, tears still flowing, resenting the fact that he's not being gentle and has no care in the world about how I'm feeling.

"It will go away," he mumbles, and increases his speed.

Not too much longer, he shouts out and I feel a hot liquid shoot inside of me. He rolls off of me, his breathing staggered.

"Wow. I should make it a point to only fuck virgins from now on," he says, and laughs lightly. He then looks over at me, waiting for me to say something, I suppose.

"My brother is coming back to his apartment soon," I then say, refusing to look into his eyes.

He nods and then gets out of the bed and starts to put his clothing back on. It feels like hours before he's finished, and I need to break down so badly right now. I'm doing my best to hold it all in so I can do it privately, but I'm not sure I can wait until he leaves. I can't stop trembling. I'm starting to wonder if he's getting dressed slowly on purpose or if it's just my overwhelming need for him to get the fuck away from me that is just making it seem like it's taking a long time.

He leans over and kisses me on the mouth, and I wince at the touch. "You did fine," he says with a sickening smile on his face. That same smile that only an hour ago I thought was sexy. I never want to see that fucking smile again.

Grant turns and starts to walk away, but then stops when he gets to the door and looks back at me. "If you know what's best for you, you'll keep your fucking mouth shut about this. Jenna will never forgive you for this if you tell her. No one will believe what you say anyway. Everyone in the school will call you a slut and a liar and you'll have more enemies than you can imagine," he says, and holds my gaze for a moment before finally leaving the apartment.

I finally break down, then. I'm crying, and rocking, and shaking, for I don't know how long. It's only when I realize that his scent is still all over me and on the bed, that I force myself to get up and out of the bed. I furiously start grabbing at the sheets and blankets on the bed and strip them off, tossing them onto the floor. I then go straight to the shower and put the water as hot as I can stand it and try to wash it all away. The soap isn't working good enough though. I can still feel his hands and mouth on me. My bruising cheek is tingling where he hit me, and I feel my lip growing swollen. I sink down until I'm sitting in the shower, hugging my knees and sobbing....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My eyes shoot open and I bolt upright in my bed, out of breath, sweating, and with tears in my eyes.

The dream.

I finally stopped having this dream every single night. Now it's down to just a 3 or 4 times a week. Reliving that night in my dreams is torture, and even though I've had the dream numerous times since it happened, it doesn't seem to get any easier to deal with. The only thing I have learned to do is calm myself once I wake up. When I first started having the dreams, I would scream out for Justin. I knew he would keep me safe. And he did.

I wipe my cold tears from my face, and then hear the phone ring. I sigh and then reach for the cordless that Mom left on my nightstand for easy access.

"Hello," I answer.

"Hey, Mollusk. I heard you weren't feeling well. How are you holding up?" I hear Justin ask.

"Fine," I sniffle.

"Moll - what's wrong?" he asks in a worried tone. Damn, he's good. He always seems to know when something is wrong.

"What are you, psychic?" I tease.

"No, but your sniffling and tone of voice were a big clue. What's going on?"

"I had the dream again," I confess.

"Do you want me to come over there?" he asked.

"No, it's okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm feeling a little better. I think I'm going to get up and make myself some chicken noodle soup," I tell him, changing the subject.

"Okay. Call me if you need anything. I'll be stopping by later to see you," he tells me.

"All right."

We hang up, and I continue to lay in bed, my mind wandering back to the dream. Then suddenly, tears fill my eyes again. All I can think of at the moment, is why?

Why did this have to happen to me? Why didn't I fight back or try to run? Why can't I just forget about it and move on? Why am I so fucking weak?

I'm exhausted and want to go back to sleep, but I'm afraid that it will all come back to haunt me yet again. So I just lay here for a while and try to think of my happier memories from before. That usually makes me feel better. Sometimes it makes me angry though. It pisses me off that I was able to be completely happy at one time. I had confidence. I was excited about everything that was coming up in the school year. Now I don't care about anything. I just simply exist. This is the last thought in my mind before dozing off once more.

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Justin's POV

I use my key to unlock the door to my mother's house, and walk in. I smell something cooking in the kitchen, and walk in that direction. I see my mother stirring some vegetable soup on the stove.

"Hey, Mom," I tell her. She turns around and smiles at me.

"Hi, sweetie," she says. I walk over to her and kiss her cheek.

"How's Molly feeling?" I ask her.

"She seems to be okay now - at least physically. But I have a feeling there's something else going on with her. She seems a bit depressed today," Mom says sadly.

"Well, she's sick. I can imagine she's feeling bad," I tell her.

"No, Justin. I think it's something more," Mom says.

"When I called earlier she said she had another dream. That could be the reason," I tell her.

"She didn't tell me," Mom sighs.

"You need to get her into counseling soon. It's not good for her to be holding all of this in," I tell her.

"I know. I just didn't want to push it on her so soon. I wanted to wait until she was ready. She was already dealing with so much."

"I wouldn't wait any longer, Mom. She needs help."

Mom nods her head at me, and then turns her attention back to her soup.

"Justin, if Molly isn't feeling better tomorrow I want her to see her doctor. I have a breakfast meeting with a client, though. Do you think you could take her?" Mom asks.

"Yeah, sure. Just call me in the morning and let me know."

I walk upstairs and make my way to Molly's bedroom. She's laying in bed reading one of her Harry Potter books for the hundredth time. She looks up at me and smiles when I clear my throat to get her attention.

"Hi," she says.

"Hey. Feeling better?" I ask.

"Much. I think maybe this bug is over with," she says, her face showing relief.

"Well, I will be the one to take you to the doctor if you need to go. Mom has a breakfast meeting in the morning," I tell her.

"Okay," she shrugs.

"I brought something for you," I tell her, unzipping my back pack that I have brought along with me. Her eyes go wide when I hand her the Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire DVD.

"Oh my God! I didn't even know this came out yet!" she exclaimed. It just proved how out of it she's been. This movie has been released for a while now, and she had no idea.

"I thought we could watch it together tonight," I say.

"You know where the player is, pop it in!" she says excitedly, and I'm relieved to see her happy about something. I haven't seen her smile like this in a long time. I get up to put the DVD into the player, and turn on the TV before setting back in the bed with my sister so we can watch the movie.

"Don't even think about getting me sick," I warn her. It's then that she gives a fake cough.

"Don't worry," she coughs again. "I'm not contagious," she says, and then starts to laugh.

I laugh along with her, and then we settle down to enjoy the movie.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am awakened by the sound of my cell phone ringing. I feel Brian stir and then cuddle in closer to me as I reach to answer my phone.

"Hey, Mom," I say in a really low voice, not wanting to disturb Brian.

"Justin, Molly is just as sick this morning as she was yesterday morning. I don't understand it; she seemed to be feeling much better last night," Mom says.

"Did you make her an appointment?" I ask.

"Yes, it's for 9:00. Are you going to be able to take care? If not I can always cancel --"

"I said I would take her, Mom. Don't worry, okay? I'll be there around 8:30 to pick her up," I tell her.

"Thanks, sweetie," she says, and the line goes dead.

I feel Brian's hand moving lightly up and down my stomach. "Molly still sick?" he says in a muffled, sleepy voice.

"Yeah, I'm going to take her to the doctor," I tell him, running my fingers through his hair. He moans softly, and I feel his morning erection poking into my hip. I reach down and kiss his lips.

"What about you? Are you up for a quick oral examination?" I say, lustfully.

He lets out another moan, as I slide my hand up and down his hard shaft. I soon make my way down his body, disappearing under the covers to retrieve my morning protein.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm sitting in the waiting room reading some stupid teen magazine since it's the only thing to read in this office other than the parenting magazine. I look up when a nurse walks into the waiting room and looks over at me.

"Mr. Taylor? Dr. Norris would like to speak with you," she tells me. I nod at her and then stand up to follow her into the examination room that Molly is in.

"Dr. Norris?" I ask, and reach out my hand. The middle-aged doctor smiles at me and then shakes my offered hand.

"You must be Justin, Molly's brother. Thanks for bringing her this morning," she says.

"Is she all right?" I ask, feeling a bit worried. I look over at Molly who is sitting on the exam table fully clothed, and has tears in her eyes.

"There are some things we need to discuss. Please have a seat," she says, gesturing towards the chair in the small examining room. I take her advice and sit down - I have a feeling I'll need to.

"After examining Molly and running a urine sample, I have determined that she doesn't have the flu; she is pregnant," Dr. Norris tells me.

My heart jumps into my throat and my eyes go wide. "What?" I ask in disbelief. I look over at my sister, who refuses to meet my eyes.

"She feels most comfortable around you and wanted you to be the first to know, so you could help her decide what to do about this," Dr. Norris explains.

"Oh, Molly," I sigh. She starts sobbing, and I immediately get up and hug her. "It'll be okay," I whisper.

"Mr. Taylor, Molly admitted that she was sexually assaulted about a month ago. You need to discuss your options and speak to your mother about this and decide whether or not she's going to proceed with this pregnancy or terminate it," she tells me.

"Well, she's only 16... she can't have a baby," I tell the doctor. Molly looks up and frowns at me.

"That's something that you all have to talk over. When you decide what you want to do, make an appointment to come in and see me right away, and we'll discuss what will happen next," she says.

"Okay," I nod. "Thank you, doctor. Come on, Molly, let's go home," I tell her. She nods and then hops off the exam table.

The car ride home is quiet. I can't believe this is happening to my little sister. She doesn't deserve to be put through all of this. We finally get back to the house, and walk into the living room to sit down. We're quiet for a moment until I finally say something.

"Are you all right?" I ask her. I know it's probably a stupid thing to ask at the moment, but I had to.

She looks over at me and glares. "What do you think? I just found out that I'm... pregnant with an asshole's kid. This unborn child is the result of the most traumatic day of my life, where I was both physically and emotionally violated and abused. How would you feel?" she snaps at me.

I look over at her and put my hand on her shoulder. "I know how I would feel... I've been there. My experience was not exactly the same, but I know what it's like to be violated and having a part of myself taken from me that I can't get back," I tell her.

She then covers her face with her hands and starts crying again.

"Molly, I know how I would feel - but I don't know how you feel because you haven't said how you feel - not about anything. I can't help you unless you open up to me," I tell her.

She turns to me and throws her arms around me and hugs me tightly. I sigh with relief, knowing that I've finally gotten through, and at last she is going to talk about her feelings.

"Justin, I'm so ashamed," she admits. "I hate thinking about it. I can't escape it though because I have these fucking dreams all the time and have to relive it all over again!" she says. She pulls away from me, and I see the pain in her eyes.

"It will help to talk about it," I tell her. "You can't keep this held in anymore, Moll, you've got to heal," I tell her.

"I know," she admits, wiping away her tears with a tissue.

"Can you tell me what happened?" I ask softly.

She sighs, and then proceeds to tell me about the night she was raped by Grant Phillips. By the end of it, I am enraged, but keep my cool for the sake of my sister. I want to kill that fucking son of a bitch. I can't even imagine what it must have been like for her to go through all of that. Not only that, but it must have been torture having to go to school every day and risk seeing his fucking face. She must have been terrified when she first went back to school.

"I'm so sorry, Molly," I tell her, tears springing to my own eyes.

"Not as sorry as I am. I fucking hate that it happened," she pauses, and I can see that anger is taking over. "I hate him, Justin! I hate him for taking away my dignity, self respect and my virginity... for making me feel like a useless piece of trash -- and most of all, I hate myself for letting it happen!" she yells.

"Molly, it's not your fault," I tell her, but she just shakes her head.

"No, Justin, you're wrong. It is my fault. And now I'm suffering the consequences," she whispers, tears steaming down her cheeks.

I'm not going to argue with her right now because it probably won't make a much of a difference. It's probably going to take a while for her to realize that what happened to her really isn't her fault.

"It's going to be okay, Molly. You've taken the first step by talking about it and voicing your feelings," I tell her, smoothing some of her hair away from her forehead.

She looks at me then, panic evident in her eyes. "Oh, God, Justin... I'm... pregnant," she says incredulously, as if it has finally sunk in. "I'm pregnant. What am I going to do?" she asks.

I take her in my arms again and just hold her. "I don't know, Mollusk. I don't know," I whisper. "But we'll figure this all out," I promise her.