The Struggle Of Our Lives

Chapter 18: Positive

Her eyes widened slightly and quickly exhaled, forgetting it would go straight into my face.

"What happened? You're a smart girl, you use protection don't you?" She asked, clearly worrying for me the way a mother would.

I sighed once more, and looked her in the eyes.

"They're not for me." My voice cracked. I cursed myself out internally, hoping Miranda didn't notice it, while tears threatened to pour out of my eyes.

Her face clearly displayed her confusion before quickly a twisting into a look of horror.

"You don't.. You don't mean.." She too struggled to find her words.

"Yeah.." I finally replied. I reached my hand out for her cigarette, wanting to feel the subtle warmth that came from it.

Miranda handed me the cigarette and watched with watery eyes as I took a breath of the fumes.

I breathed out, feeling the pain of having to tell Miranda my ten year old sister needed a pregnancy test rushing out of my heart.

As I felt a single tear fall down my face, I made eye contact with her once more and started again.

"I'll be quick, promise."

She agreed, although she seemed just as upset as I was. I took another puff of the cigarette before handing it back to her.

She took it in her hand and quickly stepped forward to wrap her arms around me.

She had never hugged me before, so I was caught off guard. As my boss, she wasn't supposed to be like that with anyone to begin with, but as I felt her tears fall onto my shoulders, I knew she didn't care in that moment.

I couldn't bring myself to hold her back. I was just so tired.

Tired of crying. Tired of hurting.

She left go of me and agreed I could leave to get the test. I thanked her and made my swift exit out of the building.

I continued past the store down to a local Walgreens and entered, looking all around me for cameras. They always made me anxious, but I did enjoy looking at my outfits through the CCTV footage displayed to customers.

I walked over to the parenthood isle and found a $20 ClearBlue digital test. It was rather expensive, but I had heard good things about it, so I grabbed it off its rack.

I walked back to the front desks, handing it to the man at the register.

Thankfully, he was very professional and didn't ask me about it or who it was for, making the experience decently pleasant.

I thanked the man and wished him a good day. As I was walking out of the store, I felt the familiar vibration of a text from my phone.

I took it out of my pocket and looked at the notification. It was an image and some text from Charlotte. I opened it and saw a man with fair skin like mine, and thick ash brown hair styled to look swept back. His eyes were green, also like mine, but a more intense shape.

His eyebrows were full and unmanaged, with a trimmed beard and mustache.

He looked like a real douchebag .