The Test

It was a December day, it was cold and gloomy.

I went into work that day; it was a month since he had been up to visit.

I was late for three weeks.

It was 10 days after I turned 16.

I should’ve been happy.

I remember stealing the test from work because no one had the slightest clue of what he did to me.

I was embarrassed, ashamed.

It was only a $12  pregnancy test.

I didn’t have money though.

And I never thought I’d have to take a pregnancy test at 16.

And I didn’t want to do a save slip because then my boss could find out about it.

I told my coworker that day that I’d be right back; I just had to use the bathroom.

I stuck the pregnancy test in my sweatshirt pocket.

I went to the bathroom and followed the directions on the box.

I waited impatiently, shaking and going through how I would tell him the results and how he would react.

If it was negative, he’d be happy,

If it was positive though…

That’s a different story.

I looked down at the test and it showed that it was positive.

My heart sunk and I broke down.

My worst fear came true.

I took a picture of it so I could show him proof.

I debated just telling him it was negative.

But he would get it out of me one way or another.

I pulled myself together and went out the back door of the stock room and threw the test in the dumpster.

I went back to work like everything was fine.

After work, I sent him the picture and told him that it was positive.

I remember hoping it could’ve been a false positive.

A week after he left I was late.

I didn’t think anything of it….

Then I was late in December again…

No one knew about anything.

I told him and we got into an argument about what to do.

He wanted me to get an abortion or for me to do something that would harm the baby.

I never went to the doctor. I was too scared.

It was the middle of February.

I was done with everything.

I had kept it a secret.

No one knew.

One night I overdosed.

He had told me to kill myself.

That no one needed me.

Me overdosing ended up killing my baby.

I started bleeding.

I felt horrible.

I remember being hospitalized for cutting.

They did a pregnancy test like usual and it came back negative.

I feel lost and empty.

I was 16.

I killed my baby……

He was happy after I told him that the test came back negative after what I had done.

I hate myself.

And wish I never did it.

But I would’ve never been able to take care of the baby.

I don’t know what to do as this is a secret I keep from family and friends.

Only two people know about this and they left because of it.

They left because who would want to be friends with someone like me?