I was woken up early the next morning, with Laurie still in my arms. She was still naked, and I was still only wearing my shirt. She was trembling and sweating. She was yelling "No, please don't!" in her sleep. I knew that she was having a nightmare. "Laurie." I whispered into her ear. Laurie opened her eyes.
"Eric." She answered.
"You were having a nightmare."
"It was terrible. It was about my foster father. He raped me on my eighteenth birthday."
"That bastard." I hollered. She started crying on my shoulder.
"He said I was a worthless slut that was only good for one thing. When I put up a fight, he beat me, that's how I got the bruise on my face. I had other marks, but they healed over in the past week. I called the police, but because of my history as a run-away, they didn't believe me."
I held her closer to me. "I believe you." I replied.
"My foster mother called me a lying whore in front of the police officers. After the officers left, my foster parents told me I had five minutes to get the fuck out of their house. I was able to pack one change of clothes when they busted down the bedroom door and my foster father swung a golf club at me, hitting me in the back of the head with it."