Tangled In Strings

Chapter Twenty-One

"No, this is a mistake!" I argue for the umpteenth time, as Doctor Santos's words zip right over my head, my ears refusing to take anything she says into account. "I'm not pregnant. I can't be pregnant. Do another test. Do something!"

She regards me with cautiousness, clearly judging by my horror that this is something I neither planned nor wanted to happen. "I could do another test, Ms. Bardot, but I'm telling you. We will receive the same results."

I jump onto my feet, having trouble breathing. My head is light, my fingers wild and unable to keep still. "No, no. I have always been diligent with my birth control. I have never had this problem before!"

"Scarlett, typical use of birth control is only ninety-one percent effective, meaning there's still that nine percent chance of conception. It's true that using it guarantees a very small chance of becoming pregnant, but in this case, you are in that small nine percent group of people who have taken it and still conceived."

"Nine percent? Are you kidding me?" I hear my own fits of madness wheezing from my lips. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

She eyes her clipboard, strumming her fingers along the desk. "I have experienced many, many moments just like this one. I can assure you that nearly every single mother who was hesitant at first now views this circumstance with fondness."

Sweating now, I push my hair back, tugging on the locks, aggravated. "Forgive me, but those people do not have the life I have right now."

"Scarlett, this is a good thing—"

"Good?" I hear a loud, obnoxious, insane chuckle break through the barrier of my lips. "Good? I've just become CEO of a goddamn franchise, the top firm in the country. I'm sitting by watching a person I care about live their last weeks on earth. I'm fighting off an ex-husband who won't leave me alone and to top it all off, the father to this baby is not in my life anymore! So, tell me now how this is a good thing!"

She stares at me, calm and professional as ever. "Listen...have a seat. Let me get you some water."

"I don't want water, Doctor. I want you to tell me how this happened!"

"The body is a strange, complicated thing. Nothing is ever certain." She treks over to her mini fridge, and pulls out a cold water bottle. I regard it with distaste and spin around, stalking over to the other side of the room before heading to another corner, rubbing my mouth in thought.

God, have I ever forgotten to take it? I'm sure I haven't.

Have I truly missed a cycle?

Scarlett, think back. God damn it, think.

The moment her hands press on either side of my arms, and I attempt to suck in a gulp of air, I'm frightened to come up short. I try again, and again, but each time, like a time watch rapidly approaching its limit; I am deprived of the relief. Fear grows like a pit in my stomach and for the first time, in a long time, I begin to feel the beginning effects of a fledged out panic episode.

Fuck.

My mind is spinning a mile a minute, my heart pounding in my ears loud enough to shake my entire body. I can't move, I can't speak. I can only gasp for air I cannot seem to inhale.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She spins me, her eyes wide. "Scarlett, breathe. Focus on my breath. Breathe."

I can't breathe. I turn away from her, reaching for a shelf in her bookcase for support. But as if someone's placed blurred film over my eyes, I miss the mark. It's scalding hot, so hot my blazer seems to constrict around me, like a boa seizing its prey. Except this boa is my life, and I have no chance of escaping it. I feel every inch of me, every bone, every muscle, every nerve trembling, and I find it hard to stand.