PARANOIA

Polska – My main excuse for the lateness is that when I sat down and wrote half of the chapter, I just quit because I didn't know where to go from there. I'm sure many of you have experienced that before. But I love this story and I do NOT want to quit it, so I'm pretty sure most of you have forgotten about me and this story, but stay with me, because it gets much better.

Also, if you pay attention to that sort of thing, I took away the Blossom & Brick thing at the top of my story. That means I'm changing the outcome of the story. Or I may still keep them together, I'm not entirely sure. You'll just have to wait. ;)

Thanks for the reviews. I didn't like one of the last ones very much; Blossom is not a slutty, crazy, mega-bitch and I do not want to write anything with you. Thanks. :) By the way, I'm getting tired of all the fluff in this story so don't expect as much Brick/Blossom fluff in the future. And one more thing: I've been trying to incorporate a Bubbles or Boomer point of view, but I can never seem to fit them anywhere. Anyways, review please! :)

Sometimes it becomes difficult to pretend that things are real, and ultimately, being caught up so much into a lie leads to thinking that it is actually happening.

DELUSION

n. fixed false belief that is resistant to reason or confrontation with actual fact

CHAPTER THREE

"Feel myself begin to sink

As the wind blows through my skin

Leaves me open to temptation."

- Piece by Piece, Feeder

She is unused these lies; she has never done anything like this.

It is that lone fact that is going to drive her out of her mind.

She cannot live her life now without feeling her presence, thinking that she knows everything, even if it might not be the truth. It is that she is so restless, so used to that thought that nothing even feels real anymore.

Everything she feels and thinks she wonders if it is all a big lie.

And yet, it is so easy to become deluded.

It's unimaginable that he feels such indifference, that the love he feels for one is the love he should feel for another. Every night he goes home and feels nothing; he feels nothing for the woman he married. And yet, when he visits the other, his heart beats a heavy tattoo and he feels as if nothing else matters, as if no one else matters. Remorse does not scratch at him; it does not wind itself around his torso until he feels he cannot breathe.

There is not a single part of him that screams that anything about this is wrong. It's contrary, and it's so right.

Am I just so evil that Buttercup no longer matters to me?

Brick is alone for once. He is sitting on the corduroy couch in his living room, typing away at his laptop. There is a cup of cold coffee abandoned on the glass coffee table in front of him, on which he has propped his feet. He had sent Buttercup on a shopping trip earlier that morning, offering up his own credit cards. Not even the slightest bit suspicious, Buttercup graciously accepted his offer with the steamiest of kisses.

And Brick felt nothing.

A sudden loud banging on the door awakens Brick from his temporary trance. He jumps up, almost knocking his computer to the hardwood floor. Regaining his composure, Brick pastes his best innocent look on his seamlessly etched features and glides smoothly towards the tall black door. Opening it, he sees his brother on the opposite side, a grimace imprinted on his own face.

"Butch," Brick says courteously. Butch rolls his eyes at his brother's galling politeness and stalks past him. Brick patiently closes the door behind him and watches as Butch scrutinizes every inch of Brick's apartment, as though he has not seen it before.

On second thought, has he?

"So?" Brick asks walking over to where his brother is leaning against one of the expensive marble countertops. His arms are crossed, his lips are pursed, and his brow is furrowed almost angrily. Rubbing his nose, Brick takes off his reading glasses and sets them gently on the counter beside him.

Butch glares at him. "Have you no shame?" he says through gritted teeth.

Brick raises his eyebrows innocently, as though he has no idea what Butch is talking about.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Butch walks over to his brother and shoves his finger to his face, only inches away from his nose. Brick glares at it cross-eyed and pushes it away impatiently.

"Listen, asshole," Butch seethes, "you'd better fucking tell me the truth or so help me God—"

"So I was driving along the boulevard and I realized that I forgot my fucking wallet! So all your damn credit cards are still in my damn wallet which I fucking forgot…"

The door has burst open and Buttercup has walked in, rummaging through her purse as she speaks loudly. She glances up and stops short when she sees Butch standing there in mid-sentence. Buttercup places a manicured hand to her heart and her lips part slightly

"Did I—Did I…interrupt anything?" she asks, glancing from Brick to Butch. She slowly begins walking over to Brick. "Bricky?"

He waves her away impatiently. "Don't worry about it. Butch was just leaving." He glares at his brother intensely, warning him.

Butch ignores this and turns to Buttercup. "I was just talking to Brick about a little rumour I'd heard not too long ago." He smirks slightly at Brick, whose mouth has now gone slightly agape.

Buttercup cocks her head and runs a hand through her silky black locks.

"What happened?" she asks worriedly. "Is it bad? What happened, Bricky?"

"NOTHING!" Brick shouts. He glares at Butch again and motions towards the door. "In fact, I think it's time he gets his ass out of my apartment."

Butch nods smugly and waves slightly to Buttercup. "I think he's right, Buttercup. It's better if he tells you. That's a real smart idea, Brick."

And without another word, Butch slams the door to their apartment. There is a tense silence. Brick is still seething, his fists clenched at his sides. Buttercup purses her lips and narrows her eyes.

"So what the fuck was he talking about?" she asks, folding her arms across her overdone chest.

"What the fuck happened?"

What has he done now?

Dear Professor,

How are you? How is Dr. Ronalds? I'm sorry that I haven't written in a while. Things have been pretty crazy around here, but I'll tell you about that later.

I know you still disapprove my engagement to Boomer and I get it, but Professor, maybe it's time you get over it? We're getting married in three months and I really want you to come. Dr. Ronalds understands; Dr. Ronalds is even happy for me. Maybe you could be too?

I got cut from my job. You know, the place where I worked as a secretary to Wendell & Burkes, the two lawyers? Apparently they were downsizing. You know what I think? I think that's a big bucket load of shit. Forgive my swearing.

I honestly don't know what Boomer and I are going to do. Boomer tries, but his job just doesn't pay enough and I haven't gotten a job yet. I'm thinking about opening my own New Age/Health Food shop where I can sell a bunch of handmade stuff. You really liked all the gifts I've sent you over the years and my herbal tea is really good.

But it's not Boomer and I that I am worried about. It's my sisters. I know I'm the only one of us three that actually writes to you so you probably don't know what's going on, especially since I really doubt that Boomer, Butch and Brick write to Dr. Ronalds at all.

I don't think I should be telling you this, since Buttercup would probably murder me (she still doesn't understand how to channel her anger) but I don't know where else to turn.

Something is going on with Buttercup and Blossom; the tension is almost unbearable. I think that Brick is having an affair and I'm afraid to say that it might be Blossom.

I don't know what to do.

Please don't tell them I told you anything. I can't drift from my sisters, especially now if they may need me more than ever.

Love,

Bubbles.

"So, Blossom, why are you here?"

Blossom clutches her hands on her lap, her knees tightly locked together. She sits up straight and stares at Dr. Elliot as he leans over his clipboard and studies her intently. A lock of his mussed brown hair flops over his left eye and he pushes it away absentmindedly, never taking his eyes off of her.

She is sitting in his psychiatrist office, on a worn wool couch that she has no doubt had sat many nervous wrecks before; people just like her.

Blossom is tense, unable to look the handsome doctor in the eye. She is regretting having ever made the appointment. Sitting at home, trapped behind an inalienable shield of possibly unwarranted paranoia seemed more appealing than revealing these thoughts to a licensed head-shrinker.

It was when she received an email from Brick that she decided to make an appointment. Brick had told her that Butch wanted to talk to him and Blossom had felt the buffer close in tighter around her and squeezing her until she did the only thing she could think of to escape.

"Blossom?" Dr. Elliot tries again. He leans over and places his hand upon Blossom's knee, clad in black trousers. Blossom shakes her head and stares at the hand on her knee. She brushes it away with her own and scoots slightly farther away. Dr. Elliot blushes slightly.

"I'm sorry, Blossom," he says. "It was my way of comforting you."

Blossom simply looks at him, her mouth parted as though she is trying to speak, but unable to.

"Blossom?"

She looks at him.

"Can you tell me why you are here?"

Blossom opens her mouth again. "I'm sleeping with my sister's husband."

The words sound so vile coming from her mouth. Blossom realizes that she has never spoken them aloud before, not like that. She stares down at the floor, resisting the urge to run from the room and burst into tears.

Dr. Elliot makes a note on her wooden clipboard. He leans back in his black leather chair.

"And why are you here?"

Blossom looks up and glances at the psychiatrist again.

"I'm here because I know that she knows. It's become so obvious to me, that daunting feeling of being watched and who else could it be but the sister I'm betraying? And it feels so right to be with him, but I want to stop, if I even can.

Dr. Elliot stands up and paces the room for moments before stopping in front of a large, open window. A light breeze ruffles the lacy, gold-rimmed curtains and the pink petals of the cliché flower on his windowsill. Blossom watches the flower intently, all noise blocked from her ears. She sees Dr. Elliot open his mouth and begin to speak but she cannot hear a single thing. She glances slowly around the room and fixates her gaze upon the open window.

"Blossom?" his soft tone snaps her out of her daze. Blossom looks up to see Dr. Elliot standing in front of her. He reaches out and caresses her cheek. Blossom closes her eyes and succumbs to his delicate touch.

"It's normal to feel a sense of uneasiness in an affair. But because you feel such incredible remorse, you cannot bear the thought of continuing every time you are with him for fear of losing your sister altogether."

Blossom nods. He moves his hand away but Blossom grabs it and places it on her cheek again.

"Please don't stop that," she says quietly.

He doesn't.

"So what am I supposed to do?" Blossom asks, shivering slightly. She leans into his hand and lets out the softest of moans. She can feel a throbbing sensation in her trousers as Dr. Elliot moves closer, close enough for her to feel his hot breath on her nose.

"You have to…um, you have to…tell your sister what is going on…or you will be subjected to a longer stretch of time of uneasiness and delusion…"

Blossom's lips on his neck cut him off. She kisses his neck, her eyelids fluttering. When she lifts her lips, Dr. Elliot catches them with his own. He kisses her thoroughly and tenderly, never removing his hand from her face. When he moves down to her own neck and slides one sleeve of her shirt off her shoulder, Blossom's eyes water and tears slide down her face. By the time he has reached her breast, she is crying liberally and silently, unable to stop.

Please help me.

A satisfied smirk is etched onto Butch's face. He had not expected his visit with Brick to end that way, but there was no denying that it had ended the way he wanted. Surely now Brick would have no choice but to tell Buttercup the truth, to avoid further lying to her. Brick was never big on lying. Butch remembers him always reprimanding his brothers whenever he caught them telling the slightest of lies. Butch shakes his head at his brother's hypocrisy.

Of course Butch knows that inside he is not doing it because it is right, but because he wants Brick and Buttercup's marriage to fall apart. If that were to happen, Butch would be waiting on the sidelines, ready to comfort Buttercup as she falls into his arms and sobs on his shoulder. Then she would realize that he is the one that she truly loves and they would kiss passionately and make love in his rumpled sheets (he reminds himself to wash them). Afterward they would lie in bed, her head on his bare chest and he would tell her that he has always loved her and they would kiss once more.

Butch shakes his head. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and continues his walk down the sidewalk. It is about noon, and Butch remembers how empty his refrigerator had been that morning. Without a glance back at the tall, luxurious apartment building he's just left, Butch makes his way to the corner supermarket.

As he approaches, the automatic sliding glass doors open and Butch breathes in the refreshing cool air. Everything looks so delicious and Butch can't remember the last time he's gone to the supermarket. It may have been because he's ordered pizza or takeout for the past month and a half and only ate what was leftover for breakfast, lunch and dinner. When he ran out, he would order again.

Unsure of where to go first, Butch makes his way over to the produce section. There are yellow apples and green apples and red apples and an abundance of bananas and peaches and fruit that Butch had never seen before. He squints at the chalkboards above each stand and raises his eyebrows at the prices.

Deciding to hold off on choosing fruit, Butch walks over towards the deli. He scratches his head at the line in front of the glass cases. Confused, Butch approaches a short pregnant woman holding one of the red supermarket baskets.

"What's with the line-up?" he asks. The woman raises her eyebrow at him.

"You serious, bud?" she replies, her voice unusually and annoyingly squeaky. Butch is close enough to make out he light smattering of acne on her chin and the hair between her eyebrows that she obviously hasn't bothered to tweeze.

Butch raises his eyebrows. "Uh, yeah. Why are you all lined up like this? Can I cut in?"

The woman rolls her eyes. She points to a black box on the wall. Butch glances up at it and reads, "30".

"Yeah, take a number, bud," she snorts and gestures him towards the red round-shaped object with a piece of white paper sticking out through the opening. Butch takes the piece and crinkles his eyebrows at the number 57 on the slip.

"That's the number you gotta wait for before it's your turn," a familiar voice says from behind him. Butch whirls around and widens his eyes.

"Bubbles!" he exclaims. Standing in front of him, wearing an all-too familiar tie-dye shirt and frayed cut-offs is Buttercup's sister Bubbles. Her blond hair is loose and flowing and her eyes are make-up free. Buttercup would have been appalled.

Bubbles smiles up at him and Butch is pleased to note that her friendly smile has not changed all these years. He glances down at her feet and blinks once when he sees that she is barefoot. His eyes wander to the ground around her feet and he wrinkles his nose when he notices all the dirt that litters the once-white floor.

"Is Boomer okay with your feet like that?" he can't help commenting. Bubbles glances down at her feet and giggles.

"Of course. We're a 'no shoes' household," she replies, shrugging. "Shoes are a restriction of freedom and we're not like that. In fact, I'm not sure if he told you, but we're opening a new age-slash-health food shop."

Butch raises his eyebrows. He has forgotten that Bubbles has been fired. Well, he certainly can't blame the lawyers after seeing that Bubbles constantly walks around barefoot. Surely she abandons her strange shoe rule for work.

Butch's gaze then wanders over to Bubbles' basket, which only holds fruits, vegetables, and iron supplement pills. There is no dairy and instead there is vanilla soymilk and two selections of tofu. Butch shudders. He remembers that one time that Bubbles and Boomer had invited the four of them to dinner. He nearly threw up after Bubbles fed him a weird tofu concoction and remembers that he downed over five beers that night to get rid of the remaining tofu flavour in his mouth.

"So, where is this shop that you're planning to open?" Butch asks. "I'll come see it."

He and Bubbles are walking now, away from the deli and towards the cereal aisles. Cereal is one thing that Butch is sure he knows how to pick. After all, he lived his childhood eating cereal every morning and afternoon.

"You know that strip mall by Blossom's house, right?" Bubbles says as she pulls a puffed wheat cereal off of the shelf. "Yeah, we signed the lease, rent thing, whatever. Boomer's really excited. Now he can quit loading cargo from the docks, he says. Anyways, it's going to open by next month, for sure. We're spending time making the stuff, you know? It's all natural. None of that chemical stuff Blossom uses to scent her house or that store-bought tea Buttercup likes to drink for some reason."

Butch cracks a smile at Bubbles' passion. Back when they were teenagers, he had always known that Bubbles would be one to open a shop like that. He had been so surprised when she received her acceptance letter from Harvard. Yet now, while Bubbles was telling him all about her dream, he can't believe that Bubbles, who has a Harvard degree, would give up all that just become part-owner of a health food store. It's almost mind-boggling.

Bubbles stops talking and glances down at Butch's empty basket. Looking back at him, she cocks an eyebrow and shakes her head slowly as though making fun of him.

"Butch, when was the last time you went grocery shopping?"

Butch lifts his head, tapping a finger against his chin pretending to think. He grins at Bubbles and shrugs.

"Like, a month and a half ago?" he says as though he is not sure.

Bubbles' jaw drops. "No, seriously. Have you been living on all that takeout? Do you know what's in that stuff?" She shakes her head. "Come on, I'm taking you shopping."

Butch continues to grin, grateful to have a distraction from the real problem.

December 9, Present

Diary:

I don't understand what's wrong with me. Am I one of those women who constantly crave sexual attention? It's like I cannot live one moment without some man shoving his hand down my pants. It's like I'm Meredith Grey, on that medical show. In fact, we may be exactly alike despite the one glaring fact that I'm not a doctor. Or a medical anything.

You may think, "Well, if you're getting so paranoid, why don't you just quit the damn affair? Brick will have to understand. The man may not care that he is hurting his wife but you care that you are hurting your sister and it's affecting your mental state." But the truth is, I can't quit, as much as I sometimes want to.

The truth is, I love Brick. I have always loved Brick. It was an unrequited love thing when we were teenagers because he loved me and I loved Butch and so did Buttercup. But I stole Butch away from Buttercup and as payback, she secretly took Brick. But did she really take him? I didn't love him then. So it can hardly count.

I am under this big fat delusion, as Dr. Elliot told me, though not quite as inarticulately. He said that I am so full of regret and indecision that I think that Buttercup knows everything about what's happening right under her nose. Easy for him to say. The damn man spends his life listening to other people's problems without having to deal with his own and at the same time, pretending to care while he really thanks the universe that he does not have the problems we do.

And yet I let the man touch me and kiss me while I cried and he moaned in ecstasy. There I was on my knees, nearly swallowing his dick whole while he groped my hair like no tomorrow. Did he not feel my tears or did he just not care, too consumed by the frenzy? But then, I suppose, he's not Brick. He just doesn't realize why I'm so lost. And after this morning, I'm not sure he even wants to understand.

It could almost be ironic: I cheated on Brick who's cheating on Buttercup. And Dr. Elliot was most definitely cheating on his wife. I wonder if his wife is cheating on him. It's like a chain, a chain instigated by me and Brick. And even more ironically, Buttercup is the only one who has not betrayed anyone. Everyone thought she'd turn into the big seductress who could not keep a husband.

Bubbles called me the other night. She sounded so happy. She wanted to tell me that she was opening a new age shop not too far from my house and if I ever wanted to stop by, I should. I told her that was great and then said that I was really tired and I should probably go. Poor delusional Bubbles was so excited about her shop that she didn't even seem to wonder.

Unless she was simply acting like that because she didn't want to ask me the truth… I wonder if she knew. If she did, that performance was certainly Oscar-worthy. But Bubbles was always good at pretending. I wonder how she found out, if she does know? What if she tells Buttercup and that's all the proof that Buttercup needs?

Buttercup must know. Bubbles surely knows. I'm sure by that fact, Boomer knows and Butch obviously knows. Our families know the truth about my affair with my sister's husband… and they won't say anything. Why are they waiting for the perfect opportunity? It's sadistic.

I wonder if Butch told Brick this morning when he visited. I mean, I wonder if he told Buttercup. I wonder if they fought. I wonder if he and Buttercup are settling on a divorce right now. I wonder if Buttercup and Butch are conspiring against me.

Butch has always been an idiot. I remember that from when we were dating. I dated him for four years, all through high school and into university. Nobody saw us as the perfect couple. Everyone expected the typical "my hair color matches yours, so now let's date" couple. They expected me to be with Brick.

"But his hair complements yours," Robin Snyder whined one day into our first year. I rolled my eyes. Just because Boomer and Bubbles were together they automatically expected Butch to be with Buttercup and Brick to be with me. Boy, were they mad when Brick dated Princess for a little while.

"That's not how it's supposed to be!" my old friends from elementary screamed. It was almost funny how badly they wanted us to be with the boy who matched my hair color and complemented my eyes.

But they didn't understand. Back then, with Brick, I just didn't feel anything. Sure the spoiling was nice. All the chocolate was good and the flowers were pretty and the necklace he bought me was the nicest thing I'd ever received (in fact, I still have it). But I just couldn't see myself with him.

Present Blossom should shoot Past Blossom for being an idiot. Then none of this would've happened.

But no, I was too wrapped up in Butch to realize my true feelings. I mean, I doubt Butch even liked me all that much. It may have been for the physical attraction, I suppose. I knew I found him extremely attractive and he told me many, many times that he also found me incredibly hot. So yes, I guess that's the true reason why I went out with Butch Ronalds.

Stupid Blossom. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

It really did break my heart when I saw Buttercup and Brick kiss on our couch that one night. Butch was already kissing some random girl in the corner (good for him, I didn't need the bastard anymore—but did he have to rebound so quickly?) so it pained me to see my own sister kissing the boy I'd always thought would love me. I'd always thought he'd be the man I'd come back to if my marriage in the future never worked out.

But no, instead Buttercup is the one married to him and because it isn't working out, I am sort of the rebound girl, even though he isn't exactly broken up. But sue me for wishing he would, so I wouldn't feel so bad about betraying my annoyingly beautiful sister.

It's like a role reversal, now that I think about it. Back then, I was always thought to be the one who would get married and live in a beautiful penthouse apartment while Buttercup moved from man to man, seducing everything with a penis. It was the future and it seemed inevitable.

Bubbles is so lucky not to be directly involved in any of this. She and Boomer just live happily in their quaint little house in the suburbs. She's opening a freaking hippie shop, for Christ sakes. She doesn't need any drama in her life, especially not from her sisters. Especially when her wedding is so close.

So what are you getting at, Blossom? Why do you keep discussing your past and trying to figure out what your sisters are thinking about? Why do you even think that Buttercup knows the truth about your little slutty affair with her fucking husband? Do you think she sits at home contemplating your demise while talking to Brick about what a little bitch you are?

It's because you're stupid, Blossom, because you had the chance when you were fucking sixteen. You had the fucking chance to make out with your red counterpart and make everyone else happy, not only yourself. But you were so delusional that you thought you were in love with Butch. He only wanted you for your body and looks, Blossom.

Were you even happy with him? When you were together all those years, were you all warm and fuzzy inside? Oh sure he was a fantastic kisser and great in bed but did you ever exchange "I love yous" or talk about your feelings together? No, you didn't because he never loved you and you never loved him. It was purely physical.

And now look at yourself. Every day you imagine that your sister is stalking you or whatever, looking for incriminating evidence. You think that everytime you kiss Brick she is alerted and you think that she's going to show up at your door spontaneously. Brick tells you not to worry, Blossom. So why are you still worrying?

Savour the feeling of being together with the man you've always loved but have always been too stupid to acknowledge. Even if Buttercup does know, how can she prove it? She has never seen you, as far as you know and if you keep telling yourself that she has, then you're going to drive yourself crazy. I mean, look at you. You're talking to yourself through your fucking diary.

You're not fucking sane, Blossom, you're like a fucking schizophrenic. You're a fucking do-gooder you're a fucking failure why do you do these things to yourself why did you do that when you were sixteen why were you so fucking delusional why couldn't you accept the fact that you and Butch were never right for each other why are you such a slut why are you such a bitch why did you sleep with your fucking therapist you suck you suck you suck.

As you can tell, diary, obviously I am not okay.

-Blossom

Blossom had trudged home after her strange and contemptible session with Dr. Elliot. She still can't believe what had transpired. It is bad enough that she is betraying her sister but to betray the only man she has ever loved? Blossom can't even believe it herself. She winces just thinking about it.

She sits on the couch in her living room, her head bowed and her hands clutching at either side of it. She feels the urge to vomit, but is unable to get up from her spot. It feels so good, so good to sit down alone on that couch that harbours so many bad memories. But it feels so good to Blossom, like a drug but doesn't make her delusional.

Dr. Elliot did not seem ashamed, Blossom notes. He acted like it was normal. Like he had done it before. Like it was completely normal for him to fuck one of his patients. He did not even seem remorseful when he zipped his pants and wished Blossom back for next week. She had caught a glimpse of his wife in a picture on his desk. She was pretty and looked entirely innocent. What would possess a man to cheat on his wife?

She supposes she can ask Brick the same question. However, there is a difference between Brick Ronalds and Dr. Patrick Elliot, she tells herself. The main difference is that Brick truly seems to love her, and had, he always tells her, for many years. Dr. Elliot had only known her for approximately twenty minutes before she decided to kiss him and make him feel manlier than he was.

Blossom groans and keels over on the couch. She lies on her side, clutching at her stomach. The need to vomit is far greater when she is lying down and Blossom can't contain herself. She bolts up off the couch and darts towards her gold tiled bathroom. She lifts the lid of the toilet and tilts her head forward, her hair falling forward as bile rises up her throat and escapes into the toilet with an unsatisfying plunk in the water.

Her knees buckle and soon she is on the ground, throwing up repetitively into the toilet. Soon strands of hair are covered in small chunks of vomit and her face is ghostly white, her mouth smeared with throw-up. She stands up weakly and shuffles over so she is leaning over the sink. Turning the faucet on, Blossom splashes water on her face and hair, attempting to clean them of her mistakes.

She shakes her head rapidly, feeling light headed. She winces as a sudden pain shoots through her lower back. The room begins to spin and Blossom teeters dizzily as though she is drunk and unable to keep her balance. She shakes her head again, trying to clear it. It works, somewhat, and when she opens her eyes she is not as dizzy.

Gulping, Blossom leans forward and opens her medicine cabinet. She rummages through make-up, shampoos, pill bottles that contained prescription drugs such as Valium, Xanax, and Vicodin, moisturizers and a supply of other hygiene products before extracting two small boxes from the back of the cabinet. She and her sisters had bought them months earlier as a joke in case they ever felt as though it was necessary.

"You never know what could happen if that condom breaks," Bubbles had said, shrugging as she took three boxes of the shelf.

She pulls out the components and gently arranges them neatly on the countertop around the sink. She skims through the tiny sheet that holds the instructions and tosses it aside. Blossom winces as she feels a convenient uncontrollable sensation in her bladder and hurriedly lifts the lid of the toilet seat, also grabbing the white test stick in the process. Almost feeling shameful, Blossom pulls down her pants and underwear and sits down gingerly on the pure white seat, closing her eyes as a tinkling sound is heard underneath her. She lifts the side of her bottom and tentatively aims for the stick in her hand. When there is silence, she closes her eyes and pulls the stick from the toilet bowl.

Holding her breath, Blossom holds it in front of her and opens her eyes. Staring at it as if she can't believe it, Blossom bits her lip anxiously and tosses the stick into the sink.

December 9, Present

Diary:

I'm pregnant.

-Blossom

TO BE CONTINUED

Polska – I'm not sure how to take a pregnancy test so I had to look it up on the Internet. Sorry for the possible inaccuracy. I tried my best. Anyways, I'm proud of this chapter. I thought I did a good job after starting off slightly rusty. Once again, I'm really sorry for the late update but there is no way in hell that I am discontinuing this story. I hope that people still review. (:

EDIT: August 19, 2012: Just letting you know about the edit. This chapter needed a lot of it.

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MELANCHOLY