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Two red lines.
She counted again. One. Two.
She shook her head; perhaps she was just seeing double? Sam took another look.
No. She wasn't hallucinating. There was defiantly two. Her stomach seized.
One more time, just in case; she thought. One...Two..."Shit." It came out in a whisper.
Sam's left arm was holding the up the towel that she'd wrapped around her body moments ago; covering her chest. One solitary strand of hair, still damp from a well needed shower, escaped from behind her ear. It fell in front of her eye and disrupted the harsh stare that she still hadn't broken since her last counting attempt. With a sudden rush of air that left her lungs like a bullet, she dropped the kit in the sink. With her now free, trembling hand she angrily stuck the strand of hair back behind her ear where it belonged.
She backed away from the basin, knowing full well that it could be completely wrong. However this didn't stop the shocked whimper that came from the deep depths of her throat. The arm on the towel made a fist and clenched tight, the other made its way to her jaw to stop it from shaking. Pure shock.
It was 5:00am in Holby, therefore practically arctic. (No matter what time of year.) The bathroom tiles were starting to chill under her bony feet after being heated by the shower Sam had taken after her run. She took the test before stepping into the tropical sanctuary; never fully considering that this could be an outcome. The condensation on the mirror above the white china sink was starting to vanish, revealing Sam's reflection to herself which caused her to let out another whimper. It was croaky and chocked from the pressure building inside her. She stared into her own big, glassy, swelling eyes: and they stared back. Sam watched herself begin to cry.
And that's how she remained; up-right, shivering and shaking. Sobbing- sobbing in the middle of her small en-suit, not bearing to even glance down at those two red lines.