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I’ve been growing increasingly nervous throughout the last week or so. My period isn’t usually on time anyway, which I blame on the stresses of such a precarious job situation. However, I’ve never had unprotected sex with anyone before. It was never a concern for me, even when my period was late.
This time, I know that the possibility of me being pregnant is high. It only takes one time, and he spared absolutely none of his semen when he came in my pussy.
I’ve been pushing the thought from my mind, but it might be time to face it soon. I don’t know if I can do it now, but soon, I’ll be forced to look this situation in the eyes.
Being trapped by feelings is one thing, but being trapped by a baby is another. Since I’ve never had to worry about pregnancy before, this particular brand of terror has gripped me in a way that makes me physically sick. Is this what being pregnantfeelslike? Being nauseatedall the time?
Either way, I feel like I should at least try to patch things up with Matteo. He’s in jail now, so his ego might be a bit deflated and I’ll be able to get through to him more easily.
At least I hope so.
I can’t imagine how awful it would be to go to jail, especially for someone like Matteo, who lives at the peak of luxury at all times. It must feel like actual hell on earth. I’ve seen the insides of lots of prisons, and the noises, smells, and unrelenting chill in the air still haunt me. I’d never survive in prison.
I can only hope that he finds a way to get out some way or another, because if I’m pregnant, I’ll have nobody else to help me care for the baby. I’ll have a baby with a deadbeat father in prison for murdering a stripper. What a fucking life.
25
Iris
I’m up for the entire night worrying about the future I may have locked myself into with Matteo.
How do I even feel about him? Beyond the mystery and the inherent darkness of his lifestyle, what do I really like about him?
I fear that my attraction to him is based solely on the fact that I have the journalistic impulse to figure him out. I want to be the one who understands his motivations better than anyone, and I was on my way to having it.
But what would I have found when I got to the bottom of it all? Would I be underwhelmed and disappointed that he wasn’t as sexy and alluring as I wanted him to be? I might never know now.
How would I explain to my child that the only reason that they exist is because I got too caught up in a story I was chasing? I mean, I wouldn’t use those words, but over time, it would become abundantly clear to them. I’d have to make something up or allow them to understand that their conception derailed my life in ways I couldn’t have imagined.
I watch the numbers change on my alarm clock hour after hour, willing myself to sleep and failing. I want to believe that I’d be able to escape into my dreams just for a little while, but I know better. My dreams almost always illuminate my subconscious fears. If there’s one place I wouldn’t be able to run from my brain, it would be within my brain.
At four AM, I decide that I’m just going to say fuck it and deliberately stay awake.
Another decision I’ve arrived at is the choice to go see Matteo in jail under the guise of interviewing him. It would make sense for there to be reporters present for a case like this, and I have the ability to pass as a member of the press. All I would need is his approval, and I would be on my way.
I haven’t even considered how he might feel about me now that I left his house screaming in his face. His eyesdidlook very remorseful, but where did the remorse come from? Was he upset that someone he was attached to was leaving for good, or was it because he had gotten so close to having me trained as a sex slave? I was living in his house, under his rule, and eventually at his every beck and call. He knew how easy it would be to get me invested in him, and he worked every angle.
It doesn’t matter. I’m going to go find out.
At the very least, I’ll get some closure. I’ll have to figure out what to doifI do happen to be pregnant, but I’m going to wait on my irregular menstrual cycle to make a surprise appearance before I rule it out completely.
I hate how much I miss him. I’ve tried so hard to put him out of my mind, returning to my ritual of being freshly out of a relationship with nothing to do and nowhere to put my affection. Back then, it was so much easier to let go than it is now. But why?
Matteo and I weren’t even together.
At about nine AM, I call the jail to see if I can arrange an interview with Matteo. I’m very clear to the guard that sheneedsto tell him who the journalist is or he won’t accept the interview. She sounds detached from my request, even bored and irritated, but she puts in the request for me.
Two hours later, I’m given permission to come down to the jail and sit with Matteo. He’ll be behind bulletproof glass, and I’ll be talking to him on one of those filthy jail phones, but I’ll be there with him again.
My heart feels effervescent and light as I drive to the jail, and I have to remind myself that the visit might go very poorly. Dangerous men are very unpredictable, so his reaction to seeing me could be equal parts joy and anger.
I’ve been to this jail before, at least three other times. I know their routines and requirements, so I’m able to float through the check-in process with relative ease. I still hate how it feels to be in here at all. There are dead bugs all over the place, and the smells in the hallways are impossible to interpret but unpleasant nonetheless.
The guard leading me through the hallways to the visitation area seems curious about my involvement with Matteo. In particular, he wants to know why a man like Matteo would know a reporter by name and allow her to interview him when he’s turned down everyone else.
I’m not sure how to reply to him, but I can feel his suspicion on me as soon as I walk in front of him to sit across from Matteo.
Seeing him is just as impactful as I expected it to be. My chest feels like it’s being squeezed in a vise, and my throat wants to close in on itself as soon as I sit down.
