Annie was twenty four when her life began to fall apart.
At that time, she was a nursing student, already used to long hours and constant pressure. Her life was not easy, but it was stable enough for her to believe she was moving in the right direction. She attended her lectures, completed her assignments, and kept mostly to herself. She did not have many close friends, but she got along with people well enough.
That evening, she stayed late on campus to finish an assignment. By the time she was done, most of the students had already left. The compound was quieter than usual, with only a few lights still on.
As she packed her things, one of her classmates stopped by the door.
"You're still here?" he asked.
"I wanted to finish this properly," she replied.
"You should head out soon. It's already late."
"I know. I'm leaving now."
He nodded and walked away, leaving her alone in the room.
A few minutes later, Annie stepped out of the building and began heading toward the road that led away from the school. The night air felt cooler, and the surroundings were mostly empty. She adjusted her bag and walked at a steady pace, focused on getting home.
After a short while, she noticed the sound of footsteps behind her. At first, she assumed it was another student heading in the same direction. She did not turn immediately, expecting the person to either pass her or take another path.
But the footsteps stayed behind her.
They matched her pace without getting closer or farther.
Her grip tightened slightly around her bag as she slowed down to confirm what she was hearing. The footsteps slowed as well.
That was when she turned her head.
"Who's there?" she asked.
There was no reply.
She faced forward again and began walking faster. The footsteps followed, now clearly keeping up with her.
She turned fully this time.
"I asked who's there."
Before she could take another step, someone grabbed her from behind and pulled her backward. Another hand covered her mouth immediately, cutting off her voice. She reacted on instinct, trying to pull free, but more hands held her in place and dragged her off the road into a darker area.
"Keep quiet," one of them said.
Her body struggled against theirs, but she could not match their strength. She tried to scream again, but the hand over her mouth pressed harder. Her movements became more desperate as she realized she was not going to break free.
"Please," she managed to say weakly.
They ignored her.
Her strength began to fade as the struggle continued. Her body eventually stopped responding the way she wanted, even though her mind was still filled with panic. Their voices and laughter stayed around her while everything else seemed to blur.
When they were done, they let go of her and walked away without looking back.
Annie remained on the ground, unable to move for some time. When she finally forced herself to sit up, her hands were shaking. She avoided looking at herself as she adjusted her clothes, focusing only on the need to leave that place.
She did not consider going to the hospital. The thought of being seen and questioned by people she knew made it impossible for her to take that step.
Instead, she walked home.
The journey felt longer than usual, and she kept her head down the entire time, avoiding eye contact with anyone she passed.
When she reached her room, she closed the door and locked it before leaning against it. After a moment, her legs gave way and she slid down to the floor.
She stayed there for a long time without moving.
The following days passed without structure. Annie stopped going to school and ignored calls from her classmates. When people knocked on her door, she stayed silent until they left. She did not have the energy to explain anything to anyone.
At night, sleep did not come easily. Whenever she closed her eyes, the memory returned clearly. She would sit up in bed, her back against the wall, waiting for the feeling to pass, but it never fully did.
"I should have been faster," she said to herself one night.
The thought stayed with her.
Weeks later, she sat alone in her room, staring at a pregnancy test in her hand. She had already checked it more than once, but the result remained the same.
"This can't be right," she said quietly.
But there was no mistake.
She placed the test on the table and sat still for a long time, her thoughts unsettled.
That evening, she stood by the window, looking down at the street below. The height was not extreme, but it was enough to end everything.
Her hands rested on the frame as she stared down in silence.
After a while, she stepped back.
"I can't," she said.
Her voice was low but certain.
She returned to her bed and sat down, holding her head in her hands.
The next few days were filled with thoughts she could not escape. People around her offered advice when they found out, but none of it felt helpful. Some told her to get rid of the pregnancy and move on, while others avoided her entirely.
One night, she sat quietly with her hand resting on her stomach. She stayed like that for a long time before speaking.
"I didn't choose this," she said.
Her voice was steady.
"But you didn't do anything wrong."
That was when she made her decision.