The sour taste hit my tongue before my eyes even opened.
I rolled out of bed and barely made it to the bathroom before I threw up everything I didn't eat last night.
Dry heaves. Cold sweat. Shaky hands.
This had become a routine for over six days now.
I flushed, slumped on the cold tiles, staring at nothing.
Was I sick? Dying?
Or was my body simply reacting to the weight of a truth I hadn't been able to process? I thought to myself.
I pressed my palm against my flat stomach.
Something didn't feel right.
Downstairs, Aunt Grace's voice echoed through the walls like a threat.
"You've got five minutes, Ava!"
I washed my face, hiding the redness in my eyes. If she saw I'd been crying again, I'd never hear the end of it.
I stepped into the kitchen and instantly felt the tension coil around my neck like a noose.
"You look like hell," Aunt Grace muttered, pouring tea without offering me a cup. "You sick or just hungover again?"
"I'm not hungover."
"Right. Of course not."
I pulled a chair but didn't sit. I didn't feel welcome. Not here. Not anywhere.
"Grace, can we talk?"
She raised an eyebrow without looking at me.
"I haven't felt okay since that night."
She finally turned, drying her hands on a rag. "Here we go again."
"I'm serious," I said, voice cracking. "I'm throwing up. I'm tired. My head hurts. Something happened to me at that party."
Grace stared. Cold. Distant. Like I was some nuisance that ruined her routine.
"Listen to me, Ava. That party? That was your choice. You snuck out, disobeyed me, and got wasted. End of story."
"Something happened...."
"Something always happens when girls dress like that and drink like that." she cuts in angrily
My stomach dropped.
"I didn't ask for this," I whispered.
She scoffed. "Right, you just invited it."
That was it.
I grabbed my bag and stormed to the door.
"Don't come running back when your mistakes catch up, stupid." she yelled after me.
I paused, hand on the doorknob, blinking back the tears.
I'm already living in them.
At school
The campus buzzed with morning chatter. But I felt like I was walking through static waves.
Every hallway was a warzone of whispers.
Every stare cut through my skin.
The bathroom mirror wasn't any kinder.
My skin looked pale. Eyes sunken. Hair limp. I looked like a ghost of who I was two weeks ago.
As I stepped out of the restroom, I ran into someone, literally.
Strong arms caught me before I hit the floor.
"Easy," a calm voice said.
It was Daniel Cruz.
Tall. Clean-cut. Filthy rich. Everyone knew him.
He wasn't just popular, he was untouchable.
"You okay?" he asked, studying me.
"I'm fine," I mumbled, pulling away.
"You don't look fine"
I didn't respond.
"Been throwing up in the mornings," he said casually. "That can't be normal."
I froze.
"What are you, stalking me?"
"I just… notice things," he said, tilting his head. "Like how you flinch when someone touches you now."
I blinked. "You don't know me."
"I was at the party."
My stomach dropped.
"You don't remember, do you?" he asked.
I stared at him, blood pounding in my ears.
He leaned in closer, voice low. "You were dancing on the balcony… laughing, glowing… then you vanished. When you came back, something in your eyes was broken."
"Why are you telling me this now?"
Daniel hesitated. "Because I think you deserve to know that someone noticed. Even if no one else cared."
His words hung in the air like smoke, dangerous and warm.
Later that same day, the feeling became unbearable so I rushed to the School Nurse's Office
My head throbbed. My hands trembled.
The nurse eyed me carefully as I explained my symptoms.
"How long have you been feeling like this, sweetheart?"
"Maybe two weeks…"
She touched my wrist, checking my pulse. "Any dizziness?"
"Every day."
"Hunger?"
"None."
She gave me a long, knowing look. Then she stood, opened a drawer, and handed me a small slip.
"You need to go for a blood test."
"For what?"
Her tone softened. "Pregnancy, dear."
The room went silent.
My breath caught in my throat.
I wasn't even sure I was alive in that moment.
"I-I can't be pregnant," I said, nearly choking.
She just smiled softly. "You need to be sure."
I walked out of the office in a daze. Everything around me was spinning, colors, voices, footsteps.
None of it made sense.
Pregnant.
But by who?
I couldn't even remember the face.
And now… the face of a stranger might be growing inside me.
I stared at the plastic stick like it had the power to end my world. So I went for the blood test eventually.
My palms were damp. My heartbeat drowned out every sound in the nurse's office. The silence between us was thick, Nurse Collins stood a few feet away, giving me the illusion of privacy, even though we both knew the truth would hit us both any second now.
I turned the stick over.
Two lines.
Two bold, cruel lines.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry, the taste of iron sitting on my tongue.
"You're pregnant," Nurse Collins said gently, as if soft words could cushion a blow like that.
I blinked at her, not saying a word. My body was frozen, but my mind was spiraling. I wanted to laugh. Scream. Rip my heart out.
"Have you told anyone?" she asked.
"No," I whispered.
"Well you know who right?"
"No," I snapped louder than I meant to. She flinched, and I immediately felt the guilt rise in my chest.
"I'm sorry," I whispered again.
Her face softened. "You don't have to explain anything to me, Ava. But this is serious. You're going to need support."
I looked away, eyes stinging. "I don't have support."
She sighed, and I knew what was coming next.
"I have to call your guardian."
"No, please," I said, panic seizing my chest. "Please, not yet. I need to... I just need a minute."
After a pause, she nodded. "I'll give you today. But only today."
I didn't go to my next class. I wandered the hallways like a ghost, clutching my bag to my chest, trying to hold myself together.
Pregnant.
I'm pregnant?.
The word echoed in my mind like a curse. My legs eventually carried me outside the building, to the back of the school where no one usually went during lunch hour. I slid down the wall, pulled my knees to my chest, and tried not to cry.
But the tears came anyway.
How? I asked myself.
I knew how. I just didn't know who.
My memory of that night was a blur of spinning lights, the taste of cheap vodka, and the heavy feeling of someone on top of me. I thought it was a nightmare.
But this baby growing inside me was proof that it wasn't.
Later that afternoon, I returned home. Aunt Grace wasn't in the living room, which was a relief. I went straight to my room, locked the door, and collapsed on the bed.
I pulled out my phone
My fingers hovered over Talia's number. I barely knew her, but right now, she was the only person who hadn't looked at me like I was broken.
But I couldn't call her. Not yet.
I sat there for hours. Staring. Thinking.
Then I threw up in my wastebasket.
That night, Aunt Grace knocked on my door.
"You skipped school again?" she said from the other side. "We'll talk in the morning. I'm tired of this disappearing act, Ava."
I said nothing. I couldn't.
I laid back down and turned off the light, resting a hand over my stomach.
I wasn't ready to be a mother.
I wasn't ready to face the truth.
And somewhere deep in my gut, I knew this wasn't over.
Not even close.