Dear Mr. Rapist,
You stole my innocence, my virginity, but Mr. Rapist you will not steal my child, an unborn baby, my unborn baby. Killing her by abortion would only let you win, and I won’t loose to you ever again. She is all mine. She will look just like me, and I will love her more than my own life.
After that night, I wanted God to kill me. I had went to church every Sunday. I was living by the bible. I was saving my virginity for my husband on our future wedding night. I had made it through high school without giving in to the temptation of sex and God let you rape me, giving me your child.
But this is not his, this is, and always will be, my journey. I will raise my daughter to be a productive person in society. I will be over protective. I will smother her to pieces, but I will not let her know her father was a rapist. She will think he was just a dead beat dad, and she will fantasize about what life with him would be like. But, she will never have nightmares about you coming into her bed at night and covering her mouth so no one can hear her scream.
Does that make you feel like a real man? Does it make you feel tough to know that you have a child in this world that will never know who you are because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself? I hope you burn in Hell with Satan standing beside you, tightening his grip on you every time you squeal and scream because the fiery flames of Hell are burning at your flesh. As you rot in jail, I hope you bathe in guilt and that you can’t sleep at night because your mind, full of grotesque images, is killing you, ripping you apart.
You turned my world, my beliefs, my way of life upside down, but I will move on. I will have a beautiful life full of memories with MY daughter. She will be the light and center of my world now. If God had to let you tear apart my sense of life to give me my beautiful unborn daughter, than so be it, but it doesn’t let you off the hook.
Satan is really looking forward to savoring your soul in Hell, so have fun. You’re such a lucky bastard; you shouldn’t even be alive. I am writing this so that I can move on, and not have you be a nightmare lurking in my life any more; I wish the very worst for you.
I hate you,
Your Last Victim.
This letter was sent to Mr. Rapist as his appeal trial was coming to an end. The victim who wrote this letter gave birth to a vivacious baby girl, Isabella Sky, four months later. The victim slowly became obsessed with keeping her daughter safe. Safe from this cruel world; her brain wasn’t functioning like it should, and everything posed as a threat.
She had post partum depression; this was discovered during her autopsy. The victim was found in her home, dangling from a basement pipe, by a neighbor. The baby had been found laying in her crib smothered to death with a pillow. The only explanation found was a scrap piece of paper that read: He Won.
Gender:
Points: 368
Reviews: 456