Everything Feels Wrong

hell

The next couple days were spent constantly feeling nauseous, and on the verge of a panic attack. I had questions, but I didn't want to talk to him. I didn't want to call, or talk, I didn't want to hear his voice or read his words. So, I called my service provider, and I blocked his number. I left it in my contacts, but I made sure that if he came back with his "babe that was fun" that I wouldn't have to deal with it again. I knew at some point I'd have to talk to him again, but now was not the time.

At first, I was scared of STDs like everyone else after these things happen. But then I realized that there was about a 5% chance that this dumbass had used a condom. I did some research, trying to figure how long after this you can take a pregnancy test and get accurate results. After figuring out that it'd be almost a week until I could know for sure, I was terrified. What if I was? What the Hell was I going to do? I didn't even have a place to stay for the three days after this. Then I got to go home. I knew my mother wouldn't be okay with a baby, even if I told her what had happened.

I was so scared that I was going to have to deal with this myself, because the person I was closest to at the time was an absolute dick, and he didn't seem to care. But I didn't actually have to go through this alone, the wonderful person that grew to be my best friend was right by my side the entire time.

The girl who'd told me she'd gotten laid, she offered to get me pregnancy tests, but I told her I'd take care of it. I told my sister what had happened, because she'd been through something vaguely similar, and she got me some. Once it had been a little more than a week since that night, I waited until my mom left the house, and I took these stupid tests. Three, consecutively.

All of them came out positive.