Chapter Nine

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My feet skid on the frosted pavement

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My feet skid on the frosted pavement. The overhead lights above me throb like orange orbs, throwing shadows across the already darkened street. There are hot tears streaming down my cheeks, one hand clutching my phone, the other on my belly. I stumble down the street, fighting the urge to run, but my feet keep losing their grip on the ground.

I hadn't got into Oxford.

A polite email had told me everything I'd worked for had been for nothing. The extra exams I'd taken, the hobbies I'd loathed but cultivated because I thought they'd make me look good on paper, the subjects I'd loved but dropped because I thought it would hold me back from getting those 'oh so' crucial' top grades. How many hours had I wasted on people I hadn't cared about, who hadn't cared about me, because I thought they would help me get to all the places I wanted to go? How many people had I hurt along the way? How many times had I been hurt? And in the end, it had got me nowhere.

I'd been sitting in the waiting room, waiting absently for another midwife appointment. Because that was the only reason I left the street now. What else did I need to leave for? I'd cried as they measured my belly, taken my blood pressure and I'd barely noticed when they took my bloods. I stumbled out in a daze, the words of the midwife just white noise against the throbbing of my head.

I head towards Dad's, grateful he was still on a job and not home. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to wash the shame and anger off my skin in the shower and then crawl under my duvet until the baby comes. And I'd rather walk all night than call Mum.

I wipe my eyes, the hot tears scolding my cold skin. My breath swirls before my lips, blocking out the world ahead of me. I've felt lost and confused since I'd seen those red lines appear on that little plastic stick, but I hadn't stopped believing that this would happen for me. That Oxford was still my future. Maybe I'd need to join a year later, maybe I'd have to take it slower, graduate later, but there was no version of my life where I didn't go to Oxford.

And they didn't want me.

As I pass the Grady's house, the house silent, I stumble again. This time, my knees dissolve under me and I go down hard. I land on my outstretched hands, gasping in relief when the fall doesn't touch my belly. As the panic slips away, I whimper, sobbing quietly as I scramble onto my haunches. The fierce cold is painful against the bare skin of my hands, and biting through the thin fabric of my leggings.

I hear the footsteps slapping against the wet ground as they run towards me, dropping on beside me.

"Annie?" Connor gasps out, sounding panicked. "Annie, are you OK?" I feel him reach for me, his hands going to my elbows to pull me up. I squirm away from his touch, the sobs escaping my throat like I've lost control of my body. Like I'm outside of it, watching from somewhere far away.

"Get off me! Leave me alone." I spit, shrugging him off. I twist my head. His face is close to mine, eyes wide with worry and mouth tight with tension. He moves back slightly, hovering as I try to pull myself up off the ground. I slip, and he's there, gripping me around the waist to keep me upright. I'm shivering in his arms.

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