Page 112 of Ink Me Three Times
The world blurs again as I reach the next town over. The streets are unfamiliar, and for a second, I feel like I’m someone else. Someone who isn’t caught up in all this.
I pull into the gas station parking lot, the fluorescent lights harsh above me. For a moment, I sit in the car, staring at the entrance as if I’m about to walk into a different life.
I take a deep breath, but it does nothing to calm my racing heart.
This is it. I’m doing this.
When I step out, the morning air hits me with a sting, but it’s welcome. I make my way to the pharmacy aisle, my footsteps echoing in the quiet store. No one knows me here, and that feels both comforting and terrifying all at once.
I grab the pregnancy test, my hands shaking so badly I almost drop it. I don’t even look at the price. I just throw it in the basket along with a bag of Doritos, some tampons, and a Red Bull. I tell myself it’s for plausible deniability, but deep down, I know it’s just a distraction.
The cashier barely looks up as she scans the items. Her bored expression doesn’t help the gnawing panic in my chest.
I just want to escape from all of it. But I can’t. I need to know.
And so, I drive back, clutching the bag in my lap as if it’s the only thing that matters. I don’t know if I’m more afraid of what I’ll find or of what I won’t.
When I pull back into the driveway, I’m alittlemore composed, but the tension in my chest is tighter than ever. I stare at the house for a moment, the flickering lights of the cabin casting a soft glow in the morning mist There’s an eerie sense of finality in the air, like I’ve crossed some invisible line and can’t go back now.
Pickle is waiting for me at the door, his little paws skittering on the wood as I step inside. He gives a soft whine and looks up at me, and I almost feel guilty for not having told him what was happening, like he’d understand better than anyone.
“Hey, buddy,” I murmur, patting him absently as I try to shove my thoughts back into the recesses of my mind.
Jesse’s sitting on the couch, flicking through his phone. The second I walk in, he looks up, giving me the same, pointed stare from earlier.
"Did you find what you needed?"
I smile a little too brightly. “Yeah, I’m good. I might just… get some rest now.”
Jesse arches a brow, still watching me with that too-knowing look. “Well, let me know if you need anything, okay?”
"Yeah, thanks," I say quickly, avoiding his eyes as I make my way to the bathroom.
The bathroom door clicks shut behind me, and I take a deep breath.
The box with the three tests feels heavier in my hand than it should. I place them on the counter and stare at them for a long, drawn-out moment. My reflection in the mirror is a stranger to me. Pale, exhausted, and holding the weight of something I’m not ready to face.
I sit down on the edge of the bathtub, trying to steady my hands. They’re shaking so badly it’s hard to even open the plastic wrappers.
I force myself to breathe slowly, to steady my hands, but my pulse is pounding so loudly I can barely hear myself think.
It seems there is only one thing to do.
It isn’t hard. But as do it, my pulse thunders.
I pee on the stick and wait.
The seconds drag on, stretching into infinity. The silence is thick, pressing in from every side, and the only sound I can hear is the quiet drip of the faucet.
I stare at the test, willing it to do anything but give me the answer I’m afraid of. My hands are clammy, slick with sweat, but I grab it anyway, slowly, carefully. I turn it over.
The two pink lines are so stark, so real that I almost drop the damn thing.
Two pink lines.
It hits me with a punch to the gut, and for a split second, I can’t even breathe. My chest tightens and my whole body locks up like I’ve just been slapped. I try to tell myself it’s a mistake. That it’s a fluke. Maybe the test is broken. But I already know.
My heart sinks, and it’s as if the ground beneath me is suddenly gone. My vision blurs.
