Page 91 of Illicit Heir

She shakes it, demanding, "Go into the bathroom and pee on it. Then we'll know for sure if you're pregnant or not."

"Mum, I'm not pregnant," I insist.

She shakes the box again. "Then prove it to me. Go. Now."

I stay frozen, unable to move. I can't be pregnant. I can't. I can't. I can't. But it is possible. Even so, if I am, I don't want to know. So I continue staring at the box.

Mum steps closer, takes my hand, and curls my fingers around it. She declares, "I can't pee on it for ya, Lauren. Ya got to do it yourself."

"There's no reason to!"

Her eyes narrow. "The way you're acting, it tells me that ya did have sex with someone. Look, I'm not here—"

"Mum." I put my hands over my face.

She continues, "I'm not here to shame ya for having sex. I just need ya to go find out if you're pregnant or not. If ya are, we got to take care of this baby."

Baby.

Oh my God, I'm not ready for a baby.

Mum puts her hand around my waist and leads me to the bathroom. When we get there, she takes the test out of the box and puts it on the counter. "I'll be waiting outside." She shuts the door, leaving me alone inside the bathroom.

I stare at the stick, and fresh tears fall. This can't be happening to me. I swipe at my tears and straighten my shoulders, looking at my reflection in the mirror.

I just need to take this test. I'm not pregnant, and I'll prove it to Mum. Then she can shut up about this, I try to convince myself, but my gut is telling me my life is about to change forever.

I sit down and unwrap the stick from the foil package. It takes me a few minutes, but I finally pee on it. I cover the end and set it on the counter. I finish on the toilet, wash my hands, and open the door.

Mum's standing there. She states, "We have to wait two minutes." She sets a timer on her phone.

I glance back at the stick. "Mum, I'm not pregnant."

She nods. "Okay. If you're not, then no harm, no foul. But if ya are—"

"I'm not," I say and brush past her, going into the bedroom, but I'm not sure why I'm in there. I leave, return to the main room, then go over to my boxes. I ask, "What should I do with all my stuff?"

"Unpack it and put it in your bedroom. The kitchen stuff put in the kitchen. Don't worry. It'll be fine," Mum assures me.

I lock eyes with her, suddenly unable to control anything. My entire body and voice shake, and I break down, crying, "What if I'm pregnant? What are we going to do then? There's no room in this house for a baby, and I don't know anything about having a kid."

She comes over and puts her arms around me, cradling my head into her shoulder. She coos, "Shh, Lauren. Everything will be okay."

"It won't. It won't, Mum. It's never going to be okay again. Nothing's ever going to be the same," I declare.

She continues trying to soothe me, shushing and holding me close.

I just continue to cry.

The timer buzzes, and I tense. I slowly pull away from her and whisper, "Don't go get it."

Sympathy fills her expression. "We can't sweep this under the rug, Lauren."

"I don't want to know," I say.

She silently goes into the bathroom. When she returns with the stick, she doesn't need to say anything. Her expression says it all.

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