I think he broke my pussy with what he did to me this morning. And I must be crazy because I want him to do it again.
As soon as I get home.
My thoughts dive into the gutter.
Focus, Mia.
I slide the charcoal over the paper, adding some shade to the drawing I’m working on. Then pause.
What if I am already pregnant?
Would I know by now?
Do I feel different?
My boobs are sore, but it could be hormones. And of course my insides are sore and cramping. Jensen’s constantly in there, dicking me into a coma.
I huff a breath, but by lunchtime, I know something is wrong. That awareness of my body is screaming at me. There is a dull ache in my thighs that has nothing to do with Jensen bending me in half this morning.
But it’s the low dragging feeling in my belly that is the real clue.
I know it is.
I excuse myself, keeping my expression locked down. The last thing I need is to get upset at work.
Theo watches me as I head into the back area, and I know he’ll track me on the cameras. So I keep my emotions calm until I slip into the bathroom and lock the door behind me.
Fuck, I don’t want to pull my pants down. I know what I’m going to see. What it means.
Another month of trying. Disappointment in Jensen’s eyes.
I just stand there frozen, like I can deny it if I don’t see it.
But I know.
It’s early. I’m not due for another few days, but I know.
The breath feels like it’s trapped inside my chest as I sit on the toilet and grab a handful of tissue.
Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it’s not my period,
I press one hand to my stomach, as if I can will our baby into existence, and then I wipe.
I don’t expect the hollowed out feeling that settles inside me when I see the tiny smear of blood against the stark whiteness of the toilet paper.
Shit.
I close my eyes, as if that can make it disappear. Weight presses on my chest.
I grab a sanitary napkin from the shelf above the sink and stick it to my underwear on autopilot.
It’ll happen soon.
This isn’t the end.
It’s still early yet.
I’ve only just come off the pill.
