FALLEN | The Devil of Caracas

Chapter 7 | A Plot to Kill

Lexi stares at the small device, resting on top of the toilet's tank. She listens to the rushing water flush down the bowl and refill again. Looking over the instructions on the box, she double checks the amount of time she needs to wait for the result - two to three minutes. Feels like an eternity.

She looks back down at the test strip, keeping her distance as if it might suddenly explode. Her heart begins to thump a little faster in her chest. 'This is a stupid idea,' she thinks to herself. 'I don't want to know right now? I should have just waited until we got home. Why did I let D talk me into this?'

She doesn't move as she stares down at the cheap pregnancy test strip, waiting for either a single line or double lines; two lines - pregnant. One line - not pregnant.

The single-person restroom is quite small. One toilet sits at the opposite end and a tiny sink is mounted to her left. Above the sink is a mirror, scratched and graffitied. The tiled floor is littered with discarded toilet paper and next to the toilet stands an abandoned soda cup from a previous visitor.

Lexi inhales slowly through her nose and then exhales one long breath out her mouth in an attempt to calm herself. She turns to the sink to wash her hands, running the warm water and soap over her fingers. Then, turning to the metal box attached to the wall, she cranks the lever, waiting for the dispersed paper towel - nothing. She scoffs and pats her wet hands on her shorts, attempting to dry them, as she looks back to the test strip.

Something's happening; red ink starts to appear on the device. A single line forms. 

One line. That's it. Just before she lets out a sigh of relief, it keeps going. Dim at first. Her heart thumps harder - it's climbing into her throat.

Two lines.

Lexi stares at those tiny marks. Two lines. Her mind is blank, thinking of nothing, but those two lines. A sudden rush of fear overcomes her. Bringing both hands to her mouth, she stifles the trembling gasps of anxiety. Lexi backs toward the door. Resting against it, she slides down, bringing her knees to her chest. She pulls her hands from her gaping mouth and wraps her arms around her legs. Bloodied images paint her mind. She can't do this again. She can't build up her hopes of life, to have it ripped from her body for the fourth time. 

Her jaw snaps shut. She takes in a sharp breath, through her nose and seals her eyes closed. Fighting back her fear, she reengages her mind on what grows inside her. Subtle tears escape her eyes.

Waves of emotions wash over her. Minutes pass by. Her eyes remain shut. Finally, her mind begins to ease itself, but the anxiety seeps down to her chest, where it rests like a lead weight on her heart.

Opening her eyes, she inhales deeply and then lets out a long, controlled breath. Lexi slowly pushes herself off the floor and steps toward the test strip. She reaches out her unsteady hand and picks it up. Shaking in her fingers, she examines it one last time. Another long moment passes.

"Holy shit..." she finally whispers.

After some silence, Lexi abruptly turns and throws the strip in the trashcan near the door. She stands in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do next. She wants to avoid Dietrich. Shouldn't Sam be the first to know? She's not going to call him; she wants to do it in person. Perhaps she should wait until they get home. Is this really happening? She doesn't need him distracted right now. And she sure as hell doesn't need another argument; Lexi knows he would try and keep her away from the action as much as possible. Nothing's changed. She's still an effective member of this team.

Glancing to her right, she examines herself in the tainted mirror. She turns to it and leans forward, resting her hands on the metal sink. Her red eyes stare back, studying the smudges of mascara beneath them. "Dammit," she mutters. Cranking the handle on the sink, Lexi reaches down with both hands and splashes the running water onto her face. After quickly rubbing the rogue make-up from her skin, she shuts off the water and returns to her reflection. She looks over the light freckles dotting her cheeks, as splotches of water drip from her face.