-Couple of weeks after the trip from England-
Returning from the bathroom back to my bed, I thought to myself, it's gonna be one of those nights again. In and out of bed, be nauseated. I sat at the end of my bed thinking through my mind, why the hell I was like this?
"SHAR! GET UP NOW!"
I startled and got up in a hurry to the noise downstairs. Forcing my feet along the landing and down the stairs, I stood in the doorway of the kitchen where my mum was cooking breakfast and my dad sitting in his usual seat, reading the newspaper.
"Where's the fire?" I said, rubbing my eyes to adjust to the light.
"Fire? What fire?" Mum said, looking puzzled.
"Well, you screamed at me to come downstairs? Do you want something?" I slipped into the nearest chair and rested my head on my hand.
"Do you want breakfast?"
My stomach turned over, and I swallowed hard. "No, thanks." I said, getting up and walking back through the door.
"Shar?" Mum said with an anxious tone. I turned around. "Sharps, me and your dad, we're worried about you." Mum said, pacing over and putting her arm around my shoulder. Dad looked over at me with sympathetic eyes.
"Worried?"
"Don't you think we have ears? We hear you at night, love." Dad said to me.
"We think you need to see a specialist for your eating disorder."
"Er, what? I don't have an eating disorder!" I snapped back.
"That's the first sign, love. Denial." Dad said.
"Dad!" I let out a huge sigh. "I can't believe you two." I turned on my heel and run up the stairs, hurling my door shut. I ran onto my bed, and sunk my head into my pillow, crying endlessly to the thought that my parents thought I had an eating disorder. Interrupting my tears, my phone buzzed on my bedside table. I picked up. Kelsi.
"Hello?"
"Shar! I've been trying to call you for ages!" Kelsi said.
"Sorry, I've been occupied." I bowed my head as the tears ran down my face.
"You're crying." She said, abruptly. "I'm coming over!"
Before I could refuse, she hung up. I threw my phone at the bottom of my bed, and fell back into my pillow.
"An eating disorder?" Kelsi laughed and suddenly stopped. "Have you?"
"No, I bloody haven't!" I snapped back. "Sorry."
"I'll call the doctor, you need to know what wrong, Shar. You can't be like this." Kelsi said, sympathetically. Unlike some people I can mention. After a couple of minutes on the phone, she arrived back in my room, telling me I had an appointment for that afternoon.
"What if I do have something wrong?" I said, hanging my head.
"Like what? You're eating OK, it's just the sickness." Kelsi said, and then suddenly gasped. "You're not pregnant are you?"
I shot my head up to look at her. Oh, God. What if she was right? What if I was pregnant?
"I can't be." I managed to say, as my throat started to dry up. "I can't be."
Sitting in the waiting room, surrounded by coughs and sneezes, my hands started to shake, followed by my legs. I couldn't cope with a baby. I was about to start university in a couple of months, it would be crazy.
"Miss Evans, please." The nice nurse said to the room.
"I'll be here for you. Do you want me to come with you?" Kelsi said.
"No. I won't be long." I smiled at her and followed the nurse to a room at the bottom of the corridor.
Entering the room, a middle aged woman sat behind the desk.
"Hello, Miss Evans. I'm Doctor Dorota Dorian. What you here for?" she smiled at me in that creep way that makes you uncomfortable.
"Well, at the moment, I keep throwing up every morning and sometimes night."
"Right, I have a few ideas, but I'll do some tests."
After poking me about, peeing in a pot, I had to sit in the waiting room for a bit, while she's checking the results.
"How long have we been waiting now?" I said to Kelsi, staring at the floor.
"4 minutes and … 50 seconds." Kelsi sighed. That was properly the 5th time I asked her.
At the end of it all, I waited an hour then she decided she'd send me a letter though the post. Typical. The day had come when the letter was supposed to arrive, and my hands were shaking when I woke up. Trying to adjust my eyesight to the light outside, there was a gentle knock on the door.
"Shar, are you up yet?" Mum whispered through the door. I just mumbled and she barges in with some toast and orange juice on a tray. "Your post is on there too." Then she turned on her heel and walked back out and down the stairs.
I looked down at the letters. Bank statement, credit card bill, doctors. My hands shook. What if there was something wrong with me? I quickly opened it and looked down at it.
Miss Sharpay Evans,
After receiving your test results back, we would like you congratulate you on your pregnancy.
I AM pregnant. Oh, God. Why happen to me?
I laid there in bed, staring at this letter. It really couldn't be right. I can't be pregnant. I chuckled to myself thinking, it's a joke, it's a joke, it has to be a joke.
Leaving my breakfast on the tray, I grabbed the nearest clothes to me and yanked them on and slammed the front door. I had to find out the truth.
Walking, well more like speed walking down the local supermarket, I suddenly thought to myself. Why would the doctor be lying? I stopped in the middle of the pavement, pondering whether to go further to the shop or to accept that I'm pregnant and go home, but I couldn't really accept the fact that I was pregnant and carried on to the shop. I waltzed in and stood infront of the tests holding a basket. I looked around to see if I knew anyone I knew, and threw 6 in my basket. I slowly walked to the checkouts, looking at essentials I might need, or buy to cover up the fact I have half a dozen pregnancy tests in my basket.
"Need a hand with your basket?" a voice said behind me, flirtatiously.
A lump got caught in my throat; I slowly turned around to find the father of my 'child'. Troy. What the hell was he doing here?
"Shar?" his face crumpled in confusion.
"I have to go … home." I started to walk faster to the checkouts, quickly paid for my stuff and started to break into a run home, but that didn't get rid of him. He had a car.
"Shar, talk to me!" he shouted through the open window, but I carried on running, holding onto my stomach.
"Shar, is it mine? I have a right to know!"
Reaching my house, I opened the door and ran upstairs, slamming my door. I stretched for my glass of drink on the side, and went to the bathroom with my tests.
4 hours later, and I'm still looking at the result of them all, and received about 70 texts and 30 missed calls from Troy, but my eyes were transfixed to the objects on my bed. I couldn't believe my eyes.
I am pregnant.
TBC.