Theme Challenge: Bridge and Z
From the Ars Amatoria Ranger Romance Themes Challenge
Challenge # 13: Test (oooh. Thirteenth challenge, thirteenth chapter...oooh...I hope this turns out okay! LOL)
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, no. I don't own the Power Rangers, as much as I'd like to.
A/N: Uh…second person POV. That's new. LOL. Let's see…basically, Bridge and Z are dating, but not married…set anywhere in the later parts of the season or beyond. It doesn't matter, I guess. Other than that, I really hope you enjoy it!
Test
You're late.
It's been almost two weeks. You're very late.
And you're nineteen and you can't do this and you're terrified--
And you need to be sure, so you bought a test. A piece of plastic that could change your life forever. You bought a test and brought it home, and you've been sitting on your bed for the past five minutes, wringing your hands.
You sincerely hope your roommate doesn't come back anytime soon, because how are you going to explain why you're sitting in your bathroom, staring at a plastic little piece of fate?
How are you going to explain this to anyone?
You flash back to your days on the streets. You can hear it now--the yelling, the screaming, the protests, the crying--a girl gets knocked up and her parents disown her, her man leaves her. That's how it was, that's how it is, that's--
That's not going to happen to you. After all, you're not on the streets anymore, and he's not like that. Even if you were both on the streets, you have a feeling that he would be there, excited out of his mind, trying to figure out a way to carry it for you so you won't have to be in any pain.
You smile a little at the thought, and glance down at the still-blank test, and in the little empty screen something glimmers. You don't see the screen anymore. Instead, you see a nursery, painted in seafoam and sunlight. You see a hand-crafted crib and a mobile made of spare computer parts.
You see a rocking chair in the corner. You see little dancing dinosaurs painted on the walls.
You see a wedding, small and intimate. You see a simple white dress. You see yellow daisies.
In that empty screen, you can see toys lying on the floor, you can see first backpacks, you can see waffles and toast for breakfast every Sunday.
What's really terrifying, though, is that in that tiny gray box, you can clearly see a little boy with tousled dark hair and his father's eyes.
You can see the special wide grin, just like his father's, that he reserves just for Mommy.
You can see it all, and it's terrifying, absolutely mind-numbing, how much you really see.
You see a future, all in that little gray box--
Which is now being slowly split in half by a little pink line.
You stare at it for what seems like centuries, that little pink line, before finally picking up the box, fingers shaking.
A pink line means you're not pregnant.
It's an interesting thing, to feel your insides slowly dying.
Instead of relief, like you should have felt, all you can feel is emptiness, numbness.
There's a queer quivering nauseous sensation in your stomach.
You tell yourself it's irrational, that you're young, it'll happen again, it's not the right time now, but…but a huge part of you is still clinging to that grinning little boy, that beautiful nursery, that future.
You turn the shower on and cry. The running water drowns out the sound of your sobs.
You cry because of what you've lost, what you never had in the first place…
You cry because you're late, you're nineteen and terrified, but you're not pregnant.
You cry because you never knew you always wanted it.
...is sad...I hope you liked this…I felt like writing a slightly sad, slightly angsty story…hope it turned out okay. Please review!
And to every single one of my beautiful reviewers, you are amazing. Thank you so much for every little comment--they mean the world to me! See you next chapter!