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.