Disorientation

Chapter Ten

The clock ticked and my fingers tapped against the table. I had been waiting for ages and I was beginning to get impatient. The clock ticked again; a harsh reminder of what I was waiting for. It was now 11:13 PM; I needed to get out of here before I back out.

After more gruesome silence, the doctor entered with a genuine smile on her face; as if this was a good thing—a positive thing—when it clearly wasn’t. I hate the fact that I ended up here; I felt so ashamed that I was actually going through with this. Something like this was embarrassing. She handed me the lengthy container and I sighed. 

"Thanks," I muttered with my head bowed.

Her smile never wavered. "Don't feel bad, Erica. I'm proud that girls like you are able to acknowledge the consequences. You're doing the right thing."

I nodded and briskly left the room. I went into the toilet and, after gathering some mental stability, peed in the small container. I already had the swab and a pelvic exam, but the urine test was the real proof. Once I was done I screwed the lid tightly and thoroughly washed my hands before leaving the toilet. I entered the room again and handed her the container. She slipped it into a transparent bag and smiled. 

"I'll just send this over to the laboratory and we'll get right back to you."

I nodded. "Thank you." 

"No problem. And remember to be more cautious." I nodded and after some questioning I left the GP. I told them I would come back to collect the results instead of having it being sent to my home; wouldn't want mum to find out I had been tested for Chlamydia.

What a way to start the summer holidays.

I walked down the road with a little bit more weight lifted off my shoulders...just a little. At least soon I'll know what I have, and that would help me understand exactly what the old Erica used to get up to. I have no idea what my past consisted of; I just want to be safe and free from STI's. I sighed as I carried on walking, the light summer breeze tickling my scalp. I still had one thing on my mind.

Michael. Who's Michael?

I honestly don't know a Michael...at least I don't think I do. 

How could I have killed someone? I'm only one person. I know the old me was a little outrageous, but I wouldn't kill—I'd never kill. I'm sure of it. So how could I have killed Michael? My brain was beginning to hurt from the endless questions. I haven’t been able to get that guy out of my head since last week. The killer look he gave me was now embedded in my brain. I really had to get to the bottom of this.

I arrived at his house and rang the doorbell. I shifted on my feet, hoping it was the right address. It’d be embarrassing if I ended up at the wrong house. A few seconds later the door opened and a bulky guy stood before me. My eyes ran over his short-cut wavy hair, dark skin tone, and pierced eyebrow. Strangely enough, I remembered the piercing, but nothing else. Once his eyes fell on me a smile appeared on his face. He was in his late teens; I really didn’t know who he was, but his smile was friendly enough. 

"I ain't seen you in time. You're okay." He grabbed me into a tight hug and I sputtered at the forward contact. I laughed nervously when he released me and let me through. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, analysing me. "You don't look like you got struck down by a car."

I scratched my head awkwardly. "Well it happened quite a while ago."

He chuckled. "Yeah true. I remember when I heard the news." Suddenly he pulled me flush against him. My eyes widened in shock and fear. I wasn’t sure where he was going with this. "At first I tried calling, then I clocked something wasn't right when you never answered. That’s when I knew something was wrong." His thumb grazed my hip gently as his eyes locked on mine. His smile was erotic; I was startled.