Nixon

••• Twenty-Six •••

Tell me that this ends well. Tell me that I make it out of this place and I will laugh. That I will get my happily ever after.

Standing before the shelf, my hands shake as my eyes are locked upon the pink box. With my purse clutched tight in my hands and my phone lightly buzzing in my back pocket, I have no idea how today will end in the long run. As one of my shaky hands reach out, my heartbeat pounds in my chest and I fear the outcome. Taking in a deep breath, I grab the box, holding it close to my body as I head for the checkout line. With my free hand grabbing my wallet, I go to the self-checkout, scanning the object as I pay with cash. Once paid for and in a sack, I flee the store, heading for the car as I fear what this test will tell me.

The drive home feels like eons to complete, my eyes forming tunnel vision around the road as I try and concentrate. I try and take my mind off of a situation that is stronger than gravity. With the car parked in the garage soon enough, I turn it off, heading up the stairs with the item in my sweaty hands. My purse set down upon the bathroom counter, I unbox the item, worried for what it will read as I take in a shaky breath.

<>

I pace. All I can do is pace as I have no idea what to do. I have no idea what will happen. The pregnancy test is upside down, my eyes not wanting to see the number of lines that signal if I am to become a mother or not. My father always told me that the moment I had a child out of wedlock that my life would never be the same. My mother told me that children should only be had in marriage or else your life will go down the drain. But I left my parents behind. They words are just optional to listen to now as I pace myself in the room I've learned to sleep in. In the house I've learned to call home. The home of a murderer.

Rather than turn the test around to see the result, I shove it into my purse, sliding on my shoes as I head down the grand staircase and out the front door. I don't hesitate as I knock upon the front door with a rush. I bounce off of my heels, worried as my nerves skyrocket and I worry even more. I need someone behind me for when I look at the result, someone to support me and help me out for what I discover.

Her eyes meet mine and she invites me in right away, a smile across her face as I enter. "What can I do for you?" Mrs. Adams asks, walking to the kitchen as I follow behind her. She's making a small salad, a cup of tea to her right as she looks to me, awaiting my reason for knocking on her door.

"I need your help," I inform, taking a seat at the breakfast bar as I place my purse upon the counter. "I...I just need help."

"With that?" Mrs. Adams asks, concern flooding her tone as my eyes begin to water and I fear what will happen. I fear what will happen if the worst is the result and how Nixon will respond. Yes, yes I think of Nixon in the mix. Why? Because I am no fool to run, to try and escape because I know he will find me. I have no ties to escaping and even if Mrs. Adams offers me her help, we both know that Nixon is a force not to be overlooked. Nixon is a warlord and twisted individual that no one can outrun.

I take out the test, placing it face-down. "I threw up yesterday and have no fever. I threw up again this morning and decided to purchase one of these. I haven't looked at the results because I am afraid...of what it contains," I inform, a sob escaping my mouth as Mrs. Adams rushes over to me, rubbing my shoulders as she holds me close like a mother. "I don't know if I am, but I have a pretty damn good idea," I whisper, my voice weak as I stare at the pink item before me. "If I am pr-pregnant then I think we both pretty damn know that I cannot leave Nixon."

She nods. "This child would tie me down to him forever," I sob. "I'm young. I'm not even nineteen and I may have a child in me. I'm not even nineteen and I've moved in with a man older than me and may be having his child. The child of a man who-