"Did you buy out a fucking pharmacy?" Enzo.
And I shiver at the sound of his voice.
"No," his sister says.
"What's this?"
She shouts, "A moon cup to collect blood. You guys never have to deal with what we deal with. You shove it in?—"
"Enough," he thunders, sounding horrified. "And pizza?"
"Yes!"
"You had McDonald's!"
"And now I need to feedyourprisoner."
"Ouch," I whisper.
There's a brief moment of silence.
Then his voice comes out gruff. "She's not my fucking prisoner. I'm protecting her."
"Yeah, yeah. Can I take this upstairs with me or not?" she asks at the top of her lungs.
"Go!" he yells.
A few minutes later, she knocks and bursts in, hurrying down the small hall.
She tosses the pizza on the coffee table and upends two bags of products.
Lyndall pounces on a brown paper-bagged box. "Here."
"What...?"
"I asked them to put the test in brown paper. Go."
In the bathroom, I do what I'm asked. Following the instructions, I pee on the stick.
I flush, wash my hands, and pace.
Then I pick it up.
I look at the little visor thingy where the results are, then I look at the box to see what they mean.
Then I look again. Back and forth between the box and the test.
For a moment, I can't breathe.
Honestly, I don't know whether to laugh or cry.
Because reality is staring me right in the face.
Chapter Ten
ENZO
Guilt rips into me.
