“Hurry up! I don’t want mom and dad to see us,” I shouted to my sister, Maria. She was taking me on a daunting journey to the pharmacy for a pregnancy test. It had been six weeks since that night, and I was scared because I felt really weird. Nobody knew about what happened to me that night except for Maria; I felt that she was the only one I could trust. “Alright, alright, I’m here,” Maria sighed back, starting up the car. “Aubrie, are you scared,” she asked me, a kind undertone in her voice. “Terrified,” I replied, rubbing my stomach.
She drove quickly, obviously as scared as I was. She squealed in to a parking space, a messy parking job on her part. “Go, I’ll wait here,” she whispered. Her voice was hoarse, as if she had been crying. I opened the door, and shut it gently. Briskly walking into the pharmacy, I encountered a man begging for money. I wondered if that would be me if I became pregnant, trying to make end’s meat for my family. I dropped 2 dollars into his coffee can, and gave him the sweetest smile I could manage.
I got to the aisle with the pregnancy tests; there had to be at least 30 different kinds. I never thought I’d be in this situation. “Which one to pick,” I thought to myself. I grabbed one that said it had double sure technology. I grabbed to just to be safe. The cashier gave me a dirty look when she saw the products I was buying. “What’s your mommy going to say,” she asked me, a deep southern drawl in her voice. “My ‘mommy’ is going to say whatever she says. Isn’t any of your business,” I responded, imitating her accent. “14.62,” she said, holding out her hand. I handed her the money, and she muttered, “Most money you’ll have in your hand for a while.” “Excuse me,” I asked, mad. “Nothing, just talking to myself. Here,” she said, holding out my change. “Thanks,” I said. “Good luck honey,” she muttered, kindness hidden in her voice.
I got home and rushed to the bathroom. Maria followed me, closely behind. I slammed the door, and followed the directions on the box. As I waited for the test to change color, I stared at myself in the mirror. I closed my eyes, and had images of that night. Him on top of me, me screaming, him slapping me. I still had scars on my face from him scratching me. I opened my eyes to see a single tear running down my face. I looked at the test, it had turned blue. A deep, dark blue. “Positive,” I cried. “Positive!” Maria opened the door in a flash, terror on her face. I was bawling by then, wanting to hug her. She enclosed me in her arms, and whispered, “Jerk. He’s a jerk.” After I had calmed down, she asked me what I was going to do. “Well, Maria, I’m 14. Adoption seems like the only option,” I answered, sighing. “What about the rumors at school,” she asked. “Let them think what they want. I’m pregnant, it’s true. If they want to start stuff, fine.” She smiled, and hugged me. My mother walked in then, and I realized I had to tell her. “Well, here we go,” I thought. I was prepared, prepared for the baby, the rumors, everything. I had already been through rape. Not much else could be worse.