The Devil Wears Saint Laurent (h.s.)

chapter twenty-one

How could I have been so stupid? Ugh, I REALLY am the WORST judge of character. First, I fell in love with Harry who I let completely break my heart and now, I might be pregnant with his child because of unprotected sex. For your own sakes, no matter how good it feels, always use a condom.

This couldn't be happening, my life couldn't get worse.

I check my calendar on my phone and check when I was supposed to get my period. It was August 18th today, and I was supposed to get it August 4th. I changed out of my dress and heels and into some black sweats, a maroon hoodie, and black moccasins. I walked to the nearest 24 hour pharmacy, dreading what I was gonna do. I walked around the aisles, trying to find the pregnancy tests. With every step I took, I felt like at any second I was gonna break down. The amount of anxiety, adrenaline, guilt, and dread I was feeling was making me feel queasy.

I found the shelves stocked with the tests. I dreaded having to choose which ones to buy. I knew to make me feel sure, I'd have to buy more than one.
The pack I bought contained three tests, so I bought two boxes to make sure. I also bought three gallons of water and two gallons of Arizona Iced Tea. The guy at the register gave me a sad smile as he rang up my stuff, I appreciated his pity.

I walked back into my apartment feeling like my heart was gonna burst. I was getting lightheaded just thinking about the idea of being pregnant. Oh god, I couldn't do this. I couldn't be able to bring a child into this world. I thought about my other options as well, and to be honest they didn't make me feel any better. Abortion was a complete no for me. I'm all for it, but personally I couldn't go through with the process. I wouldn't be able to handle it. Adoption, didn't feel right.

Why am I thinking about this now? Geez, I don't even know if I'm actually pregnant.

I grabbed the first test and followed the simple instructions; pee on the end, wait 90 seconds for life or death. Here I was, at 4 in the morning, taking a pregnancy test. My legs couldn't stop shaking as I sat on the toilet and even after I got up and waited, I felt like I was waiting years. 90 seconds never seemed so damn long, it never seemed like the scariest moment of my life either.

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I stayed awake all night. It was currently one in the afternoon and my eyes were red and puffy, my throat felt on fire and sounded disgustingly hoarse, all from crying for 6 hours straight. Cheeto cuddled with me, which made me feel a little less depressed, but I was still pretty distraught.

Every single test came out positive. Every single one.

After the first test came out positive, I was in complete denial. I didn't believe it, I thought it was a false positive, but I was wrong. In the span of time between 4 AM and 12 PM, I took six pregnancy tests and every single one had that humiliating little pink plus sign. I left the tests in a shoebox on my counter.

I didn't know what to do, was it worth telling Harry? Would he care to know? I debated that thought for a while before I decided, it was worth telling him. Whether or not he cared, was completely up to him. It was only fair for me to tell him. This wasn't a "oh hey you left your shoes at my house" it was, "oh hey, you got me pregnant. Just a heads up."

He was off for the next three days, but I couldn't wait that long to tell him. I wanted everything out of the way and out of my hands as soon as possible. I wanted anything remotely stressful to just be handled ASAP. I changed into an emerald green knitted sweater, black leggings, and black velvet booties. I looked at myself in the mirror and cringed. I looked miserable, I looked a complete mess.