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I try to fight the thought, but before I can doubt it any longer, the clarity of my situation confronts me, head-on.
When was the last time I even had my period?
I can’t remember. Life has been so chaotic for the past 6 or so weeks that I haven’t even thought to think about it. It definitely doesn’t help that I’d almost felt drunk with excitement that night—
I stop myself. No... I won’t think about him! He doesn’t deserve my attention.
Not even if Carlos is right...?
“There’s no way!” I shout, startling a passerby. I’m trying to convince myself more than I am Carlos, but it’s not working either way. It only took one sentence from him to threaten to turn my whole world upside down.
“You don’t think we should make sure?” he asks, rubbing my shoulder and trying to calm me down.
I desperately try to let him ease me, but I’m suddenly shivering like it’s the middle of winter again.
How had this thought not already crossed my mind? Did we even use protection that night? We must have fucked a hundred times... and I don’t remember a hundred rubbers. Was I so drunk with lust and excitement that I’d forget something so vital? And not only in the moment, but for weeks after the fact, too?
How could I possibly be so stupid?
... is it possible that I was filled with more than just lust that night?
I bite my lip and turn away from my own thoughts.
“Come on,” Carlos says softly, leading me down the street. “There’s a drug store up here. It’s on me.”
18
Nia
It’s fucking positive. Are you fucking kidding me!?
After all I’ve been through, now this is thrown at my feet!?
I must have been a right bastard in my old life, because I’m sure getting the shit’s end of the stick in this one.
I can’t stop cursing myself as I pace back and forth in my bathroom. The positive pregnancy test sits on the edge of my sink like a gun aimed at all my hopes and dreams.
I can barely afford to keep myself alive, how am I ever going to support a baby!?
My heart races at a thousand miles per minute and my lungs can barely keep up with my short, panicked breaths. This isn’t the kind of excitement I was looking for when I gave myself to that vanishing beast on that cold night all those weeks ago.
My god, will my child be an alley baby!?
The first time we fucked was while we were on the run from the cops, in that little alley, with me pinned against a brick wall. Fuck. What will I tell people?
Not the truth, obviously. We fucked plenty of times after that, in a huge bed on the massive floor of a luxurious loft. That’s what I’ll tell people if they tie me down and torture an answer out of me. He will become some rich asshole who jetted off to Saudi Arabia or something right after he ravished me.
Oh, what’s that? No, he didn’t leave me any money. I just got this shitty bracelet!
I try desperately to calm myself down.
Who’s even to say I’m going to have this child? How expensive can it be to get rid of something like this? ... Can I afford it? And if I can, will I be able to bear that cross for the rest of my life?
I’m filled with questions, but empty of answers. It feels like the world’s closing in around me. Can you suffocate on stress?
I try to tell myself that there’s nothing I can do right now. Nothing’s open at this hour, and even if it was, I’d have to walk through a warzone just to get to it. If I opened up my window right now, I know I’d hear the distant sound of gunshots and police sirens. If I was just a little crazier, I might think that it all sounded like fireworks and Champaign explosions, celebrating the wonderful news of my pregnancy.
It’s too bad I’m not that crazy... yet.
