25.
*Katelyn*
I was up again in the middle of the night. In my bathroom, actually, my knees drawn tightly to my chest. I had my hair pulled back into a messy bun and there was not a trace of makeup on my sweaty face. I knew that I probably looked horrid in my black sweatpants and pink T-shirt with a Victoria's Secret hoodie over it, but I couldn't bring myself to care. Who did I really have to impress? Rider? Yeah, right. And my parents could really care less about my appearance as long as we weren't going to a dinner party or anything.
It's not that I was depressed about being away from Joe. Really, that wasn't it. I was sick. As in, the sickest I had ever been in my life. As in: I'd thrown up dinner, my stomach still hurt from that, I had yet another headache, and I just felt weak and tired. I was dehydrated, too, but I just simply didn't have the energy to get up and make the trip downstairs to get myself a bottle of water. I guess I could have drank from the tap on the sink, too, but I didn't want to pull myself up.
In fact, I did exactly the opposite. I let myself fall down onto the floor so that my cheek could press against the cool tile. I hated feeling weak, but there was nothing that I could do about it. Suck it up, I said to myself over and over again, but I just couldn't. And that was saying something for me; I had a very high pain tolerance. Always had. Once, I had broken my arm and I hadn't even cried; I'd just told my parents that it felt a little tingly and that it seemed to be swelling.
But I couldn't just shake this pain off. The waves of nausea rolled over me so powerfully that I had to press my head between my knees, curling myself up into a small ball. I guess I could have gone to get Rider, but I had no desire for him to see me like that. I didn't want him comforting me. I wanted Joe. I wanted my husband; the man that I loved more than anything in the world. More than myself. But, he wasn't there. He couldn't be there.
Food poisoning sucks, I told myself and then thoughts began to strike me….
The headaches and the fatigue had been going on longer than possible for food poisoning. Something was wrong with me. A disease or an illness or maybe…
God, no.
But I knew that it was a possibility and that's what drove me to finally pull myself off of the floor, fighting my nausea the whole time. I didn't bother with different clothes or makeup; it didn't matter. I had my goal in mind and that's it.
I used the new car that had been invented in Russia by a retired operative. It made no noise, which made it easy for me to get away without anyone noticing. The night was dark, too; perfect cover. The chilliness, though, I could have done without.
The store wasn't that far away and I found what I needed immediately. I drove back to the house, parked, and snuck back inside quietly. Quickly, I made my way back to my room and closed the door securely. I then took it out of the bag and just looked at the white box for a moment, studying the lettering, even though I already knew what it was.
Clearblue Pregnancy Test…
Over 99% accurate…
Extra reassurance…
Yeah, I definitely needed some reassurance. Because being pregnant would change everything.
I was so panicky that I couldn't even get the box open until the fourth try. And then, when I finally got it open and pulled the stick out, I held it in my trembling hands for a minute. Then, I told myself over and over again that it was going to be okay and I traveled into my bathroom, shutting the door behind me and locking it, even though everyone else in the household was fast asleep.
Paranoia is just part of being an extremely good operative.
You wouldn't believe how hard it was for me to go. I was dehydrated anyway, so I ended up drinking water out of the tap on the sink for a while until I could go. Then, I had to wait. I set the stick on the counter and let myself sink onto the floor beside it, hugging my knees to my chest again. I couldn't even think about anything solid; my thoughts kept changing over and over again and I could hardly make sense of any of them. My mind was just full of doubt and worry and fear…
Stop it, I commanded myself. Take a deep breath.
I did, but it didn't make me feel any better. I uncurled my legs and let them lay out straight while I placed a hand on my stomach and leaned back against the wall. My stomach was smooth and flat under the T-shirt and the hoodie. I still had muscles there from working out.
You're probably just overworked and tired. Not pregnant.
The wall was just as cool as the floor and it felt good against the back of my neck, which had been sweating before. I closed my eyes tightly for a few moments and when I opened them, I decided that it was time to stop delaying the inevitable. I'd have to look at the result sooner or later.
I took a deep breath before pulling myself up and steadying myself against the sink. I then grabbed the stick and looked at it. My mouth fell open in shock and the stick clattered to the tile floor, bouncing up and then back down. But when it landed again, the side that showed my result was still facing up.
And the two pink, perpendicular lines sealed my fate.