I heard the rumors from the other girls, the bitch had men go to her apartment as well, an apartment I paid a year's rent on, which ends tomorrow, so I’m not exactly surprised she’s here right now.
Cheryl crosses her arms over her chest and lifts her chin in defiance before she states, “I’m pregnant.”
Now, why am I not fucking shocked?
I chuckle darkly, “Is that so?” not believing her, but a smirk appears on her face, and I know I’m not going to like what she’s about to say.
“Yes, it is, I even have proof,” she declares as she lifts a white piece of paper and a small black and white photo.
Mother fucker.
I storm over to her as a grin appears on her face, and I snatch the paperwork out of her hand, instantly reading it, and fuck sake, she’s thirteen weeks pregnant.
I shove the paperwork back in her chest, and I declare, “I want a fucking DNA test because I can guarantee with every Tom, Dick, and fucking Harry you’ve had fuck that used up cunt, that brat isn’t mine, especially when I’ve always worn a condom!”
Instead of getting angry like I expected, Cheryl smirks and admits, “You’re right, the baby could be someone else’s, but it also could be yours because I poked holes in the condoms.”
As if I can’t control it, my anger takes over, and my hand comes up, gripping her around the throat, and she gasps in shock as I squeeze tight.
“You devious bitch!” I sneer, and she grins widely despite the fear.
“Maybe so, but I’m still pregnant, and I know you won’t hurt a pregnant woman,” she gleefully gloats, and I shove her hard, causing her to stumble back.
Pointing at the bitch I warn, “Get the fuck outta here before I kill you, and you will be hearing from my fucking lawyer, especially considering you’ve just admitted to trying to trap me on camera!”
Her eyes widen, and my nostrils flare as she looks around the room, her face paling seeing the cameras lacing the place and she demands, “I expect my apartment to be paid for by the end of next week.”
See, always about money with patch chasers.
I scoff, “Don’t think so, bitch, I won’t be paying a cent until I know for a fact that brat is mine, so fuck off.”
Her cheeks redden and she eyes the cameras again before screeching and quickly rushes out of the garage, the paperwork and scan photo dropping on the floor, and I breathe heavy.
“Fuck, I hope that kid isn’t mine!” I growl to myself, my orgasm well and truly fucking gone, and fury rushes through me at the thought of being stuck around that woman for the next eighteen years.
I roar out and punch the metal wall, pain instantly ricocheting through my hand before I fall on my ass, bringing my knees up as I rest my arms on them, and I glare at the paperwork confirming her pregnancy, so I couldn’t call her a bullshitter and panic hits.
Fuck, I’m not ready to be a dad, it can’t be mine, it fucking can’t.
***
Nine months later, after hearing Cheryl brag to whoever she was speaking on the phone to about becoming my old lady and having all the money she can try and spend before I walked into the room she was placed in, I leave the hospital with my newborn son in his carrier. My dad beside me being the glue I need, while his mother, who is still high from the cocaine that sent her into early labor to begin with throws a hissy fit, the cops stayed with her to ensure she doesn’t try to take my son who I got full custody of. A judge instantly siding with me after he saw proof of her whoring ways, even while pregnant, the cocaine use and the CCTV proof of her admitting to trying to trap me, ruining her plans to get my cut and my heart pounds because I know my whole life is about to change, the DNA results in my back pocket, the custody papers and the birth certificate that Cheryl is not on, ensuring it.
Fuck.
Holly – Age Seventeen Years Old
I shake as I press myself up against the passenger door, my side hurting, while the stench of beer and sex, that isn’t from me, fills the car and my tears fall hard and fast.
We were supposed to be celebrating starting senior year next week, our final year of high school, before we all get to go our separate ways, and instead I’m trembling with fear while my boyfriend of six months, a guy I thought I could fall in love with, a guy I gave myself to last night, drives erratically, completely stoned off his face, looking at me every couple of minutes.
“I didn’t fucking cheat on you, Holly!” he snaps when he sees my tears, and I flinch as I look away from him, curling myself more into the door.
“Don’t fucking act like that!” he shouts as he tries to grab me, but ends up swerving, and I flinch again as my stomach tightens with fear, and he curses as he quickly grabs hold of the steering wheel with both hands.
I didn’t want to get into the car with him. He dragged me and shoved me inside despite the several people trying to stop him, locking the doors so I couldn’t get back out.
I should have listened to my mama, she said boys were nothing but trouble, that I shouldn’t be dating yet but Adam, he-he was sweet, kind and understanding and for six months, he showed me nothing but love. Until tonight, when I turned his drunk butt down several times at the party because having drunk sex didn’t appeal to me and he decided to get some elsewhere, not caring I was at the party.
