Page 17 of Beauty
BEEP! BEEP!
Uh-oh.
Without thinking, I run off as fast as I can while the employees rush out of the store after me.
“Stop!” They yell, but I ignore them.
A pang of guilt shoots through my body. I don’t want to steal, but I have no other choice.
If I had the money, I’d pay them.
And maybe, if I make it out of this hell alive, I’ll pay them back … one day.
But for now, I keep running, past the point where my legs can carry me until I can physically feel them caving in on me.
When I’m sure no one is following me anymore, I stop right in front of a train station.
Everything hurts.
I bend over and take a few much-needed breaths.
But when I open my eyes, I find exactly what I need to make this happen. Fifty euro cents stuck between the tiles of the pavement.
A smile spreads on my lips as I fish it out and clean it up a little. It’s not a lot, but it’s all I need right now.
I head into the train station, ignoring everyone’s looks as I push the fifty cents into a box and go into the toilet, locking myself inside.
It stinks like old piss, but even that is better than the stench of blood I still so vividly remember from the day before.
I place some paper on the toilet and fish the package from my pocket, staring at it once more before I lower my trousers and sit down.
I close my eyes for a second and breathe out another breath.
Then I take it out and pee over the stick that’s inside.
I flush and wait, nauseous just from the mere idea of having to wait for the results.
The seconds feel like hours.
A drop of sweat rolls down onto the stick.
But no extra line appears.
I let go of a giant breath and slowly begin to smile. Then laugh. Then cry.
All at once.
Because even though I’m happy I’m not pregnant, that I’m not carrying … an actual baby.
It was his.
I would have been.
I would have had something of his.
Something to remind me he was once alive.
Even though this would’ve been the worst time to have a baby.