Addicted- {Don't You Remember?}

The News

I wake up, strangling down a scream as I heave for air. The room was pitch black and so still compared to how alarmed I was. Cold beads of sweat trickle down my face as a wave of nausea came over me. I cover my mouth as I dash for the bathroom, my feet carrying me and my mind going completely blank. I had no time to think or even remember what I had dreamt about. The next thing I know, I'm hovered over the toilet, vomiting my brains out. Hot tears spill down my face, combining with the sweat. If I thought I would kill for oxy before, I would probably chop someone up for it now.

"Damn, Nicolas." A hushed voice whispers behind me. "You okay?"

After spitting out, I whip my head around. Zella was standing there in her pajamas, her bear-slippers staring into every corner of my soul. Stupid fuzzy fucks. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's the withdraws." I reply groggily, rubbing my face with a free hand.

"I had hoped so. Unless you were pregnant." She giggled.

"Yes, Zella. I'm pregnant."

"Twinsies!" She chirped hesitantly, giving me a nervous smile.

"Twi—" I froze, my eyes going wide, "You're fucking kidding."

"I didn't know how to tell you..." A smile pushed up against her lips.

"I'm seriously pregnant?" I joked.

"No—" She let out a laugh. I stood up, hugging her tightly. My best friend's fiancé is pregnant. "Nicolas I'm not wearing a bra!"

"I don't give a fuck! You're gonna have a freakin' baby! Ghost's freakin' baby!" I paused, "It's Ghost's, right?"

She rolled her eyes, "Yes, Nicolas."

I let go of the hug, looking down at her stomach. She's so thin. "Is that why you're awake? You were puking too?"

"Not that much." She shrugged, "Just a midnight snack. And then a one-in-the-morning-snack. And then two...

"Wow... you're pregnant. 'Ere. I'm gon' brush my teeth and we're gon' talk about this."

"Aren't you tired?" Zella asked.

"Far from it now." I smirked.

After a quick brush and deciding to push whatever the fuck I had just dreamt to the very back of my mind, I found Zella in the kitchen eating a hot pocket. And from the three other empty baggies, I could tell this wasn't her first one. But I'm not judging, she's feeding for two. I just hope there's one left for me tomorrow.

"What about actual food? Like... something with nutritional value?" I raised an eyebrow, hopping up on the counter.

"Think you forgot about how my mom doesn't have a stove or like, an oven. I'm surprised she has a fucking microwave." She chuckled.

"I guess." I shrug, "So a baby... it wasn't planned?"

"Nope." She popped the "P."

"Not even a little?"

"Not even at all."

"You're, what, like twenty? Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, I'm down with the baby, especially bein' Ghost's and all but I couldn't imagine."

She straightened, "There is literally nothing else I would rather be doing other than having this child. It's my husband's. Of course, I'm down with it."

I had so many questions, I had no idea where to continue. Does her mom know? Am I the only person she's told? How far along is she? Then one very important one came into mind. I was hesitant, not going to lie. But it was the cold, hard truth and I'm sure she's been thinking about it too.

"Zella, you're ill. Terminal. You'll be... dead in six months. At that point, we'll JUST be finding out the gender. Are you sure you don't want to—"

"We're all terminal, Nicolas." She interrupted, "I have so much to do in these six short months and having this baby alive and healthy is one of them. I'll be damned if I don't try my damn best." I watch her reply with inspiration. Her courage and attitude towards all this shocks me. How the hell did a loser like me end up becoming great friends with someone like her? Someone so brave and willing, crushing every downfall coming her way. She has more balls than any guy I know, that's for sure. There better be a god damn throne waiting for her in the afterlife or I'll kick some serious ass. I think she's noticed how I spaced out, as she cleared her throat, "Any other questions?"

Of course, I wasn't going to tell her all that stuff. Not yet anyways. "How far along are ya?"

"Three weeks? Maybe a month?" Zella replied, a questioning tone in her voice.

"Does your mom know?"

"Nope. And I probably won't tell her until I'm further along. For the doctor's visits and ultrasounds, I'll probably say I took on a knitting class or something just so she won't get... fishy."

"Why'd you tell me? Out of all people?"

She smirked, after swallowing the last of her "meal." Then she looked at me, showing nothing but determination, "Because you're going to be the god-father."

I felt a pang of fear vibrate through me. Before I could think, I shouted, "G-God-father!?" Then I winced, as both of us froze. The only thing we heard was her mom's snoring from upstairs. We both sighed in relief.

"After I die, Nicolas. I don't want my mom raising her. I love her but... She never liked Ghost. I don't think she'll treat my kid like they should be treated. Plus, she's sixty-two! By the time my kid's eighteen, she'll be six feet underground."

Despite her joke, I still felt empty. "Zella, I..." Kids. I don't want a fucking kid. Not now. Not ever, really. My throat started drying up, as the fear quickly turned into guilt.

"Before you start freaking out." Zella raised a hand, "I know you don't want kids. I totally get it, and if you still don't want them after their birth, it's fine. But just... consider it, okay? They either go to you or to Ghost's mom. I'm making her the god-mother."

That took some of the pressure off. I nodded slowly, "Alright. Well Zella. Make sure to invite me to at least some of the appointments."

"Yeah! That would be cool."

I smiled. Yeah, it would be.