Panic-stricken, I knew what was about to come next. I yelled at my attacker, to get off me, I was pregnant, but that did not matter to him. I felt the pull of my hair, his smelly breath, as he was yelling at me, and smashing my head against the floor. Just when I thought I was about to pass out. I heard a voice saying, "Don't give up! Get up!" When I saw my opportunity, I hit him as hard as possible. He got off me gasping for air. There was only one way out, down the hallway to the back door. The only problem was there were no steps, I'd have to jump. I was five months pregnant visibly showing. I knew I had to jump, or I was going to die. I heard the pounding of his footsteps and him yelling, "Hey, kid, where do you think you're going you little bitch"! It was then that I jumped. I felt a pain in my stomach, but I ran to my car and left. Not long after, I finally braved enough courage to look up in the rearview mirror to see if he was behind me. The coast was clear, there were no signs of my father.