Peppermint Omega

10

For the first time being at this company, I had left early from work and took the rest of the week off. It was only Wednesday afternoon, and I already didn't know what the hell I was going to do with myself. But first thing was first, I needed to get this tummy of mine checked out. I had never felt so hungry yet so repulsed by food at the same time.

After getting off the bus, I walked a couple blocks to an omega walk-in clinic and tossed up more bile on the way there as food smells assaulted my nose. My stomach was empty. Completely empty. It was hurting and cramping.

The poor receptionist helped me over to a chair in the waiting room and guided a trashcan toward me. At least, I was sitting in the "sick area." Thankful for the partial wall, I leaned toward the side and started filling out the paperwork. My palms were sweaty from nervousness, from my brain spiraling down the potential causes of this: gallbladder attack, then death; appendicitis, then death; secret cancer, then death.. Every end point was death. Right now, with my stomach on fire and not being able to really keep down anything, including water, dying looked pretty good.

The nice receptionist came to gather my paperwork with a nurse. She commented that I didn't look good. They were going to go ahead and bring me back to work me up there. The physician, an older beta, didn't wait for them to work me up.

'Tell me what's going on,' he ordered softly as he washed his hands.

I mumbled through what had been going on since the night before, the slow churning of my body inside out. He chuckled at this.

'You did very well coming in, but I would have liked you in earlier. You look pretty gaunt,' he commented, pulling down my lower lids to peep in my eyes with a light. 'Reaction is good. I'm going to have Jess set you up with a drip. Nothing fancy. Think of it as salt water spa treatment.'

There was a small poke, and quickly, I could feel the cool liquid running into my left hand. It was disconcerting, but it didn't make my stomach hurt any more than it was.

'Let me.. ah-er.. ask you this young man,' he asked, looking me directly in the eye after he finished palpating my stomach for tenderness. 'Are you sexually active?'

All sound in the room died out. Only the sound of my slowly increasing heartrate thundered in my ears, and I stared wide eyed at the doctor in complete fear.

'Young man?' He tapped me. I felt it, but I couldn't respond. I couldn't move. I couldn't even think of anything more than that smirky face of the devil.

Slowly, I nodded my head, tears burning my eyes. 'Jess, come back and draw some blood. We need to run a few tests,' he ordered quietly, and added more softly. 'Don't worry, Quinton. We will take good care of you.'

After being sent to the large hospital to confirm my worst fear, I roamed around the city until I got to a park, plopping down on a concrete bench. My little quiet life was over. I was a child molester and pregnant with the said victim's child.

'Earth, I beg you just swallow me whole..'

With my head in my hand, I sobbed more. Little voice brought up the options the doctor mentioned, but they were wary for me. Though it would take additional testing, those black market inhibitors I took when younger may have damaged my uterus. On the ultrasound, they explained it was smaller than normal, due to the inhibitors possibly having way too much of oxytocin and progesterone and could possibly result in me not carrying the child to full term.

Resting my elbows on my knees, I looked across the way from me. A teal food truck was setting up for the afternoon. MoonCakes and Stars Collide was the name. That was cute. The ultrasound person told me to give the little lurch a nice nickname. Mooncake sounded so cute and fluffy.