Elle's POV
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Something was wrong, really wrong. I was sick, too sick for it to be normal. My first hint was a smell. Jacob, the large Native American that I failed to understand, was cooking. "Hey, Elle, what some?" I ran from the room, and locked myself in the bathroom.
I vomited into the sink over the mirror. I turned and saw myself in another; full length mirror and I looked like shit. I was still bruised from that one night with Luke, but that's not what shocked me. "NO!" I screamed.
Luke broke down the bathroom door. "Elle, baby, what is it?"
My knuckles were white against the marble sink. "I…" I stepped away from him. "You're not going to want to marry me after I tell you," I admitted, shamefully. "I'm not worth it."
"No, baby," Luke said, wrapping his arms around me. He kissed my hair. "I will never ever do that to you."
"Even if I'm pregnant?"
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I'm evil, I know….
