“Beatrice… your test came back positive.” She hesitates, then says it plainly.
“You’re pregnant.”
The words don’t land. They detonate.
For a moment, everything inside me goes weightless, suspended, then crashes all at once. The room tilts. My heart gives a single, violent thud before it starts racing, too fast to keep up with.
Pregnant.
I let out a shaky laugh. “No. No, that—there has to be a mistake. I’m not… I can’t be pregnant.”
But the denial collapses almost immediately.
That night. The memory hits hard and fast.
“God… no. No.”
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not with him. Not like this.
And if he finds out, he won’t let me go.
He’ll trapme in ways I won’t be able to fight. Or worse— he’ll take the baby—mybaby.
He can’t know. He can never know.
My eyes burn, vision swimming as the truth tightens around me like a vice.
The nurse is still speaking—talking about confirming the test, about next steps, about options—but her words float somewhere above me, muffled and distant, like they’re underwater.
All I can hear is the echo of a truth I’m not prepared for.
“I… I need to go,” I manage, though the syllables scrape out of a throat that barely works.
“Beatrice, you asked to report an abuse,” the nurse reminds me gently. “You don’t have to do this alone. We can bring the specialist in?—”
But I’m already stepping back, my body moving before my mind can catch up, panic clawing up my ribs, hot and electric.
“I’ll come back,” I say, and the lie tastes metallic on my tongue.
The nurse reaches out, but I pull away, grabbing my bag, grabbing the door, grabbing the only exit from a room that suddenly feels too small, too loud, full of truths I’m not ready to claim.
I slip out before she can stop me.
The hallway blurs as I walk.
All I can feel isthe weight of two words pressing against my ribs like a heartbeat I can’t escape.
I’m pregnant.
In the span of ten minutes my entire world has been torn open, rearranged, and redefined, and all that matters now is the life inside me, a life I will protect with every ounce of strength I have left. But to do that, I need more power than I’ve ever had at my disposal, more protection than I can summon on my own.
I dig through my bag with trembling fingers, pull out my phone, and dial the one number I promised myself I would never call again. I press the phone to my ear and hold my breath.
He answers on the first ring.
“Beatrice?” His voice is thick and velvet-smooth, and hearing it unravels something I’ve been holding too tightly. “What happened?”
“I—sorry,” I manage, my voice no stronger than a whisper. “I didn’t mean to call out of the blue.”
