after the death of her mother, leighton's father sends her to a boarding school halfway across the world to be taught a lesson. she knows no one and no one knows her.
but the cherry on top is who her roommate is.
#2 in ptsdawareness
#2 in anxiety
#...
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4 M O N T H S L A T E R - august
I wake up to the sun streaming through the curtains, but instead of warmth, it feels like a spotlight on my already throbbing head. Groaning, I sit up, and the moment I do, a wave of nausea hits me like a freight train.
My stomach lurches, and I barely make it to the bathroom before I'm kneeling over the toilet, retching.
It's a few moments before I can catch my breath, and when I lean back against the cool tiles, the taste of bile clings to my mouth. A thought crashes through my mind, cold and sharp: "Could I be...?" My heart races, dread pooling in my stomach as I realize I've missed my period. The fear washes over me, mingling with the lingering nausea.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. This is not the morning I imagined. I splash water on my face, looking in the mirror at my disheveled reflection. My brunette hair is a wild mess, and my eyes are wide with panic. I need to know. I can't let this uncertainty hang over me.
Grabbing my phone, I check what time the drug store opens. I can do this. I take another breath, forcing myself to stand. The floor feels unsteady beneath my feet, but I push through, determined.
I walk to the store. Each step is amplifying the pounding in my chest. Thoughts race through my mind: if I'm pregnant, what does that mean for me and Kai? He's at practice, probably lost in his own world of drills and plays, while I'm here grappling with the possibility of bringing a new life into this chaos. Would he want this? Would we be ready?
We've never talked about kids before. I don't know if he wants kids. Would I be a good mom?
When I finally reach the store, I can't shake the dread coiling in my stomach. I navigate the aisles, each one more daunting than the last. I find the pregnancy tests tucked away at the back, the plastic packaging almost mocking me. I grab one, the weight of it feeling heavy in my palm.
People give me disgusted looks.
I'm 23. Is that too young? Maybe I look like a teen mom.
Why is everyone staring at me?
At the checkout, I can feel my cheeks burning. The cashier rings it up and gives me eyes of disgust. I want to say something but instead, I force a smile. After paying, I practically sprint back home, the test clutched tightly in my hand, the questions swirling around me like a storm.
Once inside, I make a beeline for the bathroom, closing the door behind me.
I can barely contain my thoughts as I follow the instructions, my hands shaking with anticipation. I set the test down, staring at it as if it holds the answers to everything. My heart pounds in my chest, each second stretching into eternity as I wait for the results that could change everything.
