In His Kiss - Ava Alise Page 0,88
my alarm clock. I just want to sleep, but I haven’t all night so there’s no point in me lying here any longer. I just couldn’t settle. My feet feel heavy as I slide them to the floor and get out of bed. I could just skip class but I’m worried about Jordan and I know if I go to school at least I’ll be able to see him sooner. I stand in front of the mirror, pushing my hands through my untamed curls before wetting, detangling, then securing my hair in a ponytail. I look rough. I feel rough, but at least I’m not vomiting.
My gaze moves down to my belly, it’s flat, of course, but I swear it looks like it’s sticking out a little. I really need to figure out if this is happening or not. It’s either that or drive myself crazy stressing about it. But I’m scared, because if it’s true what will that mean? What will it mean to Jordan? I know he loves me but that doesn’t mean he’s ready for this. We are both young, trying to figure out life. And if this bullshit with Felicia gets him expelled, then what? His life would be in shambles, everything he’s worked for… gone. What if he wants me to get an abortion?
I lock eyes with my reflection, trying to summon the courage I’ll need to get through this. Taking a deep breath, I nod slowly, giving myself a pep talk.
“It’s time to dig in,” I say before turning to step in the shower.
The sound of muffled screaming reaches my ears over the running water. I’m still covered in soap as I fling open the shower door and grab my towel. Water drips from my feet, leaving a trail on the wooden floor as I rush through my bedroom and into the hall.
“Mom?” I yell. Her voice is clearer now, but she’s further away than I thought. Loud wails echo from below and my heart races as I grip my towel around me and run down the stairs.
“Where are you?”
She cries loudly. I can hear her mumbling something, but I’m too far away to make out any words.
I nearly trip over Casper as I dart through the living room toward the sound of her voice. It’s coming from the kitchen. At first, I only see her feet, dirt caked on them as she sits on the floor.
A trail of dirt makes a path from the open side door to where my mother lies on the floor. She screams hysterically as she clutches a small pink blanket, fresh soil caked on her hands.
“My baby,” she screams. My heart races as I drop to my knees in front of her. She cradles the fabric against her face. Her eyes are squeezed closed and even as I call to her she doesn’t seem to hear me. She’s filthy, covered in dirt, mumbling incoherently as she cries. I rub her legs, brushing the dirt from her face as I try my best to soothe her. She never opens her eyes. She only rocks as she holds the blanket, screaming. I slide around her, wrapping my arms over her chest as I speak to her softly. I tremble as tears pour from my face and drip into her hair.
This isn’t working and I begin to panic as I notice her breathing start to change. She’s starting to hyperventilate and I know that if I don’t get her inhaler, this could take a turn for the worse. I tell her I’ll be right back as I crawl to my feet and run upstairs. I stop in my room to grab my phone then I scurry down the hall toward her door. It’s unlocked and I push into the room quickly, dashing around the bed toward her dresser where she usually keeps her meds. Her inhaler is sitting where it always is, on a small plate that holds her jewelry. Gripping it between my fingers, I turn back to the door, and that’s when I see it. Baby pictures cover every inch of her bed and nightstand. But this baby is not me. The child looks to be a newborn in some pictures and maybe a few months older in the others. Some are with my parents, some are the child alone.
Shock rolls through me as I freeze in place, taking it all in. Who is this? I gaze around the room until I’m reminded of the inhaler that I have