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It was the second quarter of my freshman year of university, and I was flourishing. I had amazing friends, earned top grades, and was the happiest I'd ever been. Long story short, I went to meet a friend in the middle of the big city nearby and got lost. I pulled over in a dark parking lot, thinking if I parked behind buildings, I'd be out of sight. Before I knew it, a middle aged man with a knife opened my driver's side door that I'd foolishly left unlocked as I was fiddling with my GPS. I was, indeed, out of sight from any passerby. I was raped. I was so ashamed and blamed myself so completely, that it took me three days to muster up the courage to call a rape hotline. The woman on the other end of the line told me, gently, that going to the police would probably be futile, given that I'd washed myself so thoroughly. I probably couldn't figure out how to direct them to the crime scene, and so much time had passed.

Fast forward to two months later. I was failing my courses, put on academic probation, and went to the South for winter break. My mother and I went to my gynecologist’s office in my hometown because I thought my lack of periods and gastrointestinal issues meant I had another cyst. I discovered I was pregnant and being unable to stop crying, told my mother.

My parents insisted I get an abortion once I returned to school—or they'd disown me. They told me adoption wasn't an option because it wasn't worth the "humiliation" and "heartbreak" they would have to endure. I remember my mother telling me that a rapist's spawn didn't deserve to live. I remember thinking that baby was half of me and was completely blameless, but I said nothing.

Upon returning to school, I had the procedure. At the first appointment, they showed me the ultrasound, and I heard the heartbeat. One of my friends was outraged that they had done that, but I didn't realize how much it would impact me at the time.

After the procedure, I was kicked out of school and told I could re-apply the following quarter, but I never did. I cried constantly, struggled with suicidal thoughts, and fell deep into heroin addiction. I'd never so much as smoked pot prior to my abortion.

I'm finally clean now, but my abortion still haunts me. A year and a half ago, I experienced a miscarriage, which my OB said was partly due to the heavy scarring from my hack-job abortion. I think about both of those babies constantly. I wonder who they'd be, how different life as a mother would be, etc. I pray every night that I will someday be able to conceive and carry to term, despite my scarring and fertility issues. I wear a silver pendant around my neck with a quote from E.E. Cummings that I haven't taken off since I bought it. It reads: "I carry your heart with me. I carry it in my heart. I am never without it.”

To those considering abortion, even if you are a survivor of sexual assault, PLEASE think long and hard about your decision, and do not allow anyone else to make that choice for you. It is your own, and you will have to live with it for as long as you live.

Age: 22
Location: Massachusetts
Date: February 8, 2014