It was like somebody shot me with a gun. Not with a sniper, or an AK47, but a regular gun, those guns police like to keep around their dandy duty belts. It stung like a real gun would most likely feel like, but not as literal. I felt a warming sensation that spread throughout my body that was instantaneously met by great calamity.

"Wait, can you repeat that again, please?"

"For the thousandth time, Hazel, you're pregnant." The doctor met my gaze and held it for a moment as if to confirm that I understood.

"You're kidding."

"Why in the world would I kid around with pregnancy?" She took a long, deep breath and rubbed her temples, which provided about a minute of awkwardness and silence. "Have you willingly had any sexual intercourse with anybody within the last two to four weeks?"

I thought hard for a second, but there was no need for that, because the memory came back to me as instantly as I could lift my head up to look at the doctor once more.

I slept with Gus in Amsterdam a week before he died. And about three weeks later, I started feeling weird as if my own soul was sucking the life out of me; if that was even possible. It wasn't the ache of loss though, I knew it was something different. I started feeling sick, and I frequently stayed in bed. That's when my parents booked a doctor's appointment, and that's where I was.

Thinking about Gus added a whole crap ton of pain, along with my gunshot wound, but I bore it. I didn't want to tell someone who I surely as hell didn't like about how I had sex with a now, dead person. Literally, a dead person. Most importantly, a once spectacular, and amazing, and intelligent, and beautiful person.

"Hazel." The doctor was growing terribly impatient; the bottoms of her eyes almost looked like they were starting to fall off.

"Yes, that explains the baby, doesn't it?" I sarcastically stated.

The woman clenched her teeth and her hands balled up into very tight, small fists that could probably knock Chuck Norris off the face of the earth.

"Work with me, please. Please." She pleaded, and put her -surprisingly- ice cold hands on my legs.

It was hard to admit it, but I knew I was giving this person much more of a rough time than she deserved.

"Yes, I had sex about four weeks ago. With my dead boyfriend."

"Oh." There was a slight pause. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Again, the period of silence began, and I could simply tell she was faking her sympathy so it looked liked she understood me. Truth is, no one did. Not my mom, not my dad, not even Isaac. The love and affection between Augustus Waters and I was an infinity of all infinites. Whether he was dead or not. The doctor cut off the silence with another question.

"Did you use protection?"

"Yeah. Only sluts and whores don't use them." I was getting pretty annoyed at that point.

She raised her eyebrows as if to question my answer, then moved onto the next question on her clipboard.

"Dick." I whispered under my breath.

"What's that?"

"Nothing."

"Okay, are you one hundred percent sure that this, Augustus, person is the father."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't say his name like he's a worthless piece of shit. And for your information, I'm not a slut. Thanks for asking."

The doctor, I knew, was fed up with me, whether any of us liked it or not.

"Hazel, you're pregnant, and you're what, sixteen? I don't think you'll be able to cope with this, assuming your condition." She began to scribble some things down onto her clipboard with a fancy looking pen and then set them down on the counter next to her. "You should consider getting an abortion. Two irresponsible teens raising a child is already difficult. I don't know what it would be like for one parent, especially one that is already physically suffering already."

This woman was basically telling me I was weak and I couldn't raise a baby. And she was absolutely right. But guess what? My stubbornness kicked in and I couldn't even think about a life without Augustus's and my baby. If I refused, it pretty much meant I was throwing another presence of life away, all because of me, a sixteen year old that wasn't ready for the hardships. The baby didn't deserve that.

"I'm gonna have it."

"No, hun, I don't think-"

"And you can't stop me."