A year after the death of Jingo.
Life had been tough... Extremely tough, choosing to raise her rapist's baby had been one of the hardest choices of her life. Every night and day she saw him, every dream was instantly a nightmare with him in it and every tall, musclar man was just another Jingo. He plagued her life like a never ending swarm of locusts that just took and took until every ounce of strength and motivation was gone from her, leaving her hollow.
She had sworn to herself that she would never speak of him again but when she was rushed to the hospital when she went into labour and she was asked who the father was, she burst out crying, she didn't even know who he really was. Whether she wanted it or not, their baby was coming. The birth went for hours and afterwards she was exhausted and numb, staring at the ceiling, only able to think about her attacker. But when the baby was put in her arms to suckle, she felt more alive, her maternal instincts taking over her depression, a faint smile tugged at her lips and she stroked her newborn fondly, instantly in love with her daughter. For once life was looking up for her..
