Chapter 93: A Second Stick

Molly-

I followed Madeline back to the study and stood silent as she showed Paul the test. At first, he looked skeptical, not that I blamed him since I was lying through my teeth. However, I needed him to believe this one and couldn’t afford for him to call me out on it.
I kept my eyes steady and did not show a single bit of emotion as he looked everything over. My chest stayed as still as possible, barely breathing as I waited and prayed.
I jumped slightly when Paul threw the stick into the garbage, and it landed on something with an overly loud thud.
“Good. One less disgusting mistake we have to worry about,” Paul stated with satisfaction, then turned back to me. “I want you packed and out of here in two weeks.”
I nodded and turned to walk out the door.
“And, Molly?” his voice called me back before I could leave.
I stopped and looked over my shoulder at him... more in surprise since he used my name and didn’t call me “girl.”
“What?” I asked when he stayed quiet.
“Do not mention a word of this to Scott or your mother. They will not understand what we have to do to protect this family,” Paul told me firmly.
What WE have to do? I mentally scoffed. It was more like was I would have to do. All he was doing was giving me money to leave. Which I wouldn’t take if I didn’t have my child to think about… if there really was one.
“If you do,” he continued when I didn’t answer, “it’ll tear this family a part, and it’ll be all YOUR fault. You’re lucky that it hasn’t done so before now.”
I didn’t want to believe him… and knew I really shouldn’t. But I was starting to think that maybe he was right. It was my fault that I started things with Scott, and then I couldn’t stay away from him no matter how hard I tried. I didn’t know how or when I got pregnant, but I was sure that was my fault too.
My shoulders sagged in defeat, and I nodded. “I’ll keep it to myself.”
Paul gave a single nod and opened up the folders on his desk, dismissing me. I turned to leave again, and a question popped into my mind that I simultaneously did and didn’t want the answer to.
“What would you have done….” I began quietly, still hesitating for the answer.
“What do you mean?” Paul replied distractedly.
“If I had been pregnant… what would you have done?” I pushed out.
Finally, Paul looked back at me with a dark look on his face. He dropped the pen and folded his arms over his slightly rounded stomach.
“Why do you want to know?” Paul asked quietly.
I turned and shrugged, keeping my face expressionless. “Call it morbid curiosity.”
He stared me down for a moment before picking up his pen again. “I would have had you go get an abortion. An abomination like that should not be allowed to live.”
Rage filled me, and a growl rose slowly up through my chest. Paul had been right; I hadn't wanted to know. But now that I did, it was taking all of my control not to launch myself over the desk and…
As quickly as I could, I turned on my heel and hurried out of the room before my desire for violence took charge.
I raced to my room and slammed the door shut before burying my face in my pillow and screaming as loud as I could. Paul was the abomination; he was the one that didn’t deserve to live. The bloodthirsty, mama-bear part of me screamed from deep inside. It was that part of me that screamed my fury into the pillow and that part that gave me the strength to do what needed to be done.
I didn’t want to hurt Scott, my mother, Becca, or anyone else. But the baby had to come first. If they knew about him… they would understand.
“If there is a baby,” I reminded myself.
I threw my pillow back on the bed and put my hand in my pocket, pulling out the second stick. “It’s time to know for sure.”
I slipped out of my bedroom and down the hall, feeling foolish for sneaking but not wanting to let anyone know what I was doing. I slid into the bathroom and looked up and down the hallway to make sure no one was there as I closed the door.
I took the test properly this time, and then put the end cap on it and snuck back to my room. I sat on my bed, watching the stick anxiously as the tiny window grew darker and darker. The first line appeared, and I bit my lower lip until it almost bled as I watched the second line slowly darken to match the first one.
Pregnant.
I was indeed unequivocally pregnant.
I wanted to be happy, thrilled, and joyful at the prospect of bringing Scott’s child into the world. And a part of me was.
But there was no way I could do that safely here… and there was no way I could hide all the symptoms from everyone. Especially not Scott.
Ohh, God, Scott. Now that we’d admitted our feelings for each other AND I took him as my Master again, leaving was going to shatter him. Just the thought of leaving him and never seeing him again, never feeling his touch or his kiss or hearing him say I love you again, shattered my own heart.
I would never love another man the way I loved Scott. But I would protect our child with my life, and that was worth a little thing like a broken heart.
In the silence of my bedroom, while I tried not to allow the despair to swallow me whole, I heard the faint sound of something buzzing. It took a moment to recognize what it was and a moment longer for me to want to answer it.
However, the caller might have been Becca and her positive attitude, despite the hard situation, was just what I needed. I jerked my purse open and grabbed my phone, answering it without looking.
“Becca!”
“No, this is Mrs. Delaney! Have you heard from or seen Rebecca? We got home this morning and haven’t seen her. Her bed doesn’t look like it was even slept in! Is she over with you?” Ingram Delaney replied, startling me.
My brows furrowed at her words, and I looked at the phone, making sure it was the person I thought it was. The screen shouted “Shewitch”, which was the name I had put in for Becca’s mother.
“Hi… Mrs. Delaney. No… umm, Becca is not here. Ummm, have you tried her phone?” I asked stupidly.
“Yesss,” Mrs. Delaney hissed, though she tried to sound pleasant. “I have called it, and you just so you know, a dozen or more times now, and Rebecca's not picking up. I am seriously considering calling the police—”
Mrs. Delaney cut off suddenly, and in the silence, I heard a door slam on her end. “Wait… I think she’s home.”
She hung up before I could find out whether it was Becca. In frustration, I began my own speed dialing of Becca’s number. It wasn’t until about the 20th call that Becca finally picked up.
“Becca!” I gasped into the phone. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to call?! Your mom called me at least a hundred times! What is going on?!”