When I was finished, Sheri had fallen asleep; but her portrait had not. It shone with her beauty, wisdom, kindness, love, with my love for her. I made dinner for two, and set up on the living room floor in front of the sofa. I brought in all the flowers that had been outside her door putting them in water, and placing them in front of the painting, on the floor then I waited for her to wake up, falling asleep on the floor.

I missed her reaction to the painting, she woke up before I did. I awoke, and saw her sitting up on the sofa, staring at the painting, I wondered at how long she had been staring at it. I sat up on the floor, and said to her:

"I don't know what happened, I do know that I love you, and I will be here with you to help make it better, and then, I hope that you will be here with me, as my wife.
I need you to tell me how you got these bruises all over you.... who did this?"

She wouldn't tell me right away, but I convinced her that she needed to see a doctor. We drove down to the doctors office, and I waited for the doctor. He was asking me questions I didn't have the answers to.... I told him I hadn't seen her in weeks, and that she wouldn't tell me what had happened. Gingerly, the doctor told me that she had been raped, and she was pregnant. I was dumbfounded..... who would do this? Was Sheri cooperating with them, giving them answers?
The doctor told me that I should go in and talk with her, and so I did. She wouldn't tell me, the shame on her face made shivers run down my spine. I told her that if she was going to get through this, she needed to talk about it, justice had to be done. She looked up at me with tears in her eyes, and she didn't have to tell me who was responsible, I knew. It was my father.

I took Sheri home, and told her to rest. I told her; paint something, anything, trust me, it will help you.
Then, I went to my mom and dad's house, and waited in the kitchen, I was hungry, and mom had leftovers in the fridge. When dad came home, I nearly killed him. I hoped when I left, that he was in as much if not more pain than Sheri had been. Mom walked in on it, and pulled me off of dad, probably just in time. Then she kicked me out of the house, for now she said, it would be better if you left.