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he nurse who gave me a smile of pity. I rushed to the pharmacy for over the counter medication. I bought a pregnancy test strip. When I got home, I ignored Ford. He was saying something... I hurried to my room. Following the instructions, I peed on the strip. Waiting the few minutes for the results, with a shaky hands. "Please be negative, please don't be a baby." I silently prayed. I stare at the test in my trembling hands. Two pink lines. Bold. Unmistakable. My breath hitches. This can't be happening. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the result to change, to disappear. But when I open them, the lines remain, glaring back at me like a sentence I can't escape. "Evans." I whisper his name like a curse, like a prayer. Where is he? How do I even begin to find him? I did not know his last name. Nothing but his face. He had given me that money to prevent this from happening. Treated me like some street rag he could use for his night of pleasure. The room feels smaller, the walls pressing in as I began to imagine what would happen when my father finds out. I press a hand to my stomach. I'm not ready for this. "I'll be buried. Or have the baby removed!" I sighed. Tears falling from my eyes. A strong woman like me was having existential crisis because of a silly one night mistake. The next few days, I began to reject food. Avoiding anything that would make me nauseous. I had successfully hid the news, test strips and hospital results from everyone especially Dad. So why did I feel guilty sitting across from him at the dinning table. All morning, since he sat down for breakfast Dad has been staring at me. So was Ford. Like some information had reached them and I was the last one to know. "Are you alright?" Ford asked as I ate only black berries, one morning. "Any reason why I shouldn't be?" I eyed him. He was a very sharp man. I'm sure he could tell that something was going on. "You look pale and half dead, Isla. Nobody looks like that all the time except they're sick." He replied. Washing do