Ninety-two
I am pregnant.
Three words. Three words I don’t want to be associated with. Brandon’s hand returns to my knee but it weighs a ton, I shrug it off, I don’t want his support. My lung closes, the pressure in my chest spreads. I wheeze, a cold feeling of fear whips through me. My breath catches in my throat, a strangled sound escapes me. I don’t want to be pregnant.
Reaching for something close to me to keep from drowning in this sea of nothingness, my hand closes around thin air and I gasp. The image of the doctor blurs, I cradle my head in my arms and choke on a sob. I don’t want a baby.
"If you want, we could-"