She quivered as she spoke,

"This scar has a wound;

it was on a day where

I crowned it with a knife,

hoping it will end my life.

It did no good, only healed

into a monster with the

shape of a line, sealed

inside my valley of white.

I regret it, I regret it, I regret it."

After teaching her how to sign

once we started dating, I was finally

able to sign: Tell me a story.

"Once upon a time,

a fool who wanted out of

a world with prison bars.

She climbed onto the fence,

was about to jump when a man

with common sense came by;

he pulled her down from the sky.

she asked him why?—

He answered with a smile, said

she was worthwhile.

Confused and bruised, she

had no clue what to do; the

man told her do not cry nor

think if she wanted to die.

He held her hand and said,

"Darling, you're beautiful,

think with your head. Remember,

you are not dead. Know you're a hero."

The girl laughed with ease.

"A hero? Is that a joke?

You must be kidding; I'm

only broke," she spoke.

The man brought her face

to his, and spoke at a gentle

pace with ease. "Every scar

has a wound, that will be

crowned by a knife or blade

to end a precious life.

Every wound has a story, filled

with gory. Behind each story,

you will find strength. Look

deeper, and harder, and you find—"

The girl whispered, "a hero."

See Charlie, this story

comes to me. But I am

no hero, I am only weak.

I can't fight for this baby.

our baby, Charlie."

And the world stopped,

the lights went down,

and I finally realized that

there was a little piece of

me waiting to open it's eyes.

I'm a father.

Is it possible that in one day—

when thousands of people

take away years from their

lives trying to conceive

just one little child—I could

be a father?