Heather stared at the pink plus sign. She shook the stick, as if that would somehow make the unkind little symbol magically change. But there it was again, leering back up at her, mocking her silently. Her watch beeped, and desperately she grabbed the other three tests. Plus, plus…plus. Shit. The grimy bathroom walls began to swirl around her, forcing her to close her eyes and kneel on the floor as she fought back the oncoming wave of nausea. She was pregnant. She had actually managed to fuck up her life more than it already was.

Millions of questions flew through her mind. Abortion? For a split second she considered it, but almost immediately hated herself for it. No, that was not a possibility. Adoption? Better, but again she felt a pang of guilt when she thought of dumping her baby off with a couple of strangers. So she was keeping it. It. What is "it?" He? She? How on earth would she care for it? Where would she find the money? She'd have to find some kind of job. Wonderful, she thought, I'll end up working in some hell of a grocery store, just like my dad…

The father. How was she going to tell him. Will would have to be understanding, he'd have to help her… Heather's stomach dropped, and she gasped for air as she swallowed the bile flooding her throat. "Fuck," she whispered. What if it wasn't Will? What if it was…