Content Warning: This chapter includes
verbal abuse, emotional coercion, medical distress, abortion-related trauma, discussion of abortion, and psychological trauma. Please take care while reading.

No noise was made in the car; only the humming of the air conditioning breeze was flowing. It wasn't even loud, as if it could sense silence was being bled in, not with want but with force.

Milly's tears flowed as each building passed them until the car stopped at their destination.

She didn't even have a second to breathe before the sharpness of her mother's nails gripped her hands, forcing her out of the car into the building.

"What seems to be the problem today?" a nurse questioned.

Milly's head pounded as she felt her mother's grip tightening. Her mother's eyes turned to her with a fury.

You were supposed to speak.
Speak!

Milly forced her lips to part, but nothing came out—not even air. Her chest squeezed in tightly.

Breathe.

She could feel the nurse's eyes on her. Her legs were moving, but her eyes never left her mother as the ache consumed her.

Now breathe.

Her mother's lips twisted into a scowl, and she turned towards the nurse. Milly's nose reacted fast, inhaling a quick breath that sped to her lungs. It stung on its way down.

The air felt useless as her heart ached when she heard the words. "She needs to be tested," her mother snapped. "For pregnancy."

"Of course. Follow me." The nurse's lips pressed together in a thin line. "Let me get a doctor and an OBGYN nurse."

Her mother's fingers separated from her, and the warmth of the place seeped into her body.

Milly's eyes glanced around the room. She didn't want to look at her.

White walls.
A room.
An exam bed.

When did she get in here? Her mind wondered. Was the exam bed for her to sit on?

Milly's fingers connected with their surface coldness, and a chill crept down her spine. Milly's mother's heels began to hit the tile repeatedly, moving.

Austin let out a light snicker, but Milly didn't respond—not even a flinch.
Her heart tightened when breathing came out, and she landed on the cold surface.

The exam bed.

"Stop laughing," their mother scolded. "Go in the waiting room."

Milly fixed herself on the exam's bed.

Austin quietly muttered, "Yes, ma'am."

She could hear his feet leaving, and the door closed.

"That test better be negative," her mother furiously stated.

Milly's palm grew wetter. It was sweat.

Her mother wasn't done, though. She ranted about the shame Milly had brought to their family, about how people whispered that she didn't even know who the father was. She called Milly a disgrace.

Disappointment.

Mistake.

Before a thought could seep forward, the door creaked. A new nurse entered—a much older woman with kind but professional eyes—pulled a clipboard into her lap, and adjusted her glasses.

She approached Milly first with her hand extended, but Milly stared, not taking it. But she could hear her mother's step approaching as her mother groaned.

"This is Camilla, and I am Denise," Milly's mother spoke through gritted teeth and shook the nurse's hand. She handed the nurse a paper. It had to be the admission form.

The nurse maintained a light smile. "Well, I am your nurse today. My name is Nurse Gracelyn. Camilla, before we proceed with anything, I need to verify if you would like your mother to be in the room."

No.
Please get her out.

But that wasn't an option. And Milly swallowed hard, her throat aching from dryness, and she nodded.

"It's always good to have a family with you for support," Nurse Gracelyn praised. But Milly's mother scoffed.

Nurse Gracelyn's smile persisted as if she didn't hear it. "First, I need to ask you a few routine questions, okay?"

Milly did not react as Nurse Gracelyn continued speaking. "Are you sexually active?"

Milly's breath hitched, and her fingers gripped the loose thread in her hoodie pocket. She didn't want to answer. Not with her mother sitting right there. She could feel her mother's death stare burning her face, demanding she answer.

Her mother's mockery came out. "Go on, answer. You had all that confidence when you were out here acting like a grown woman. Don't get shy now."

Her eyes flickered toward her mother, but her body did not turn. "Yes," she mumbled.

Her mother gasped, and her hand touched her mouth while her death stare burned Milly's face.

Nurse Gracelyn kept her expression neutral, writing something down. "Are you using any form of protection? Condoms, birth control, or any other contraceptive method?"

Milly froze, barely registering the words. Her mind returned to the first evening it happened.

Jeremy's voice was low and huskier in her ears. His touch was soft and tender—not the usual roughness. It held kindness and something she craved...

"Milly, please..." he pleaded with soft, small kisses on her lips. His eyes held a fondness for the first time with the desire it usually has.

Her hand still reached for the condom, touching the rough plastic, but he grabbed her fingers gently, stopping her and interlocking their fingers together.

"I swear, I got tested. I'm clean. Negative for everything."

'Why isn't this a good idea?' she asked herself.

He smiled at her with his dimples. It felt like she was the only person for him. Her mind was drawing a blank.

His fingers gently moved a strand of hair behind her ears. "Besides, I know when to pull out. I don't even feel anything with a condom. And you're special to me, Milly. One day, when I get my shit together, you're gonna be my girlfriend."

She had wanted to believe him. She had wanted to feel special.

So, she had let him.

"Camilla," her mother snapped, yanking her mind out of the memory.

Milly's face burned with humiliation. Her voice came out small, almost childlike.

"No."

The room stilled until Nurse Gracelyn continued. "How many partners have you had in the last six months?"

Milly's heart pounded through her chest, trying to break her ribcage, and her lungs squeezed. She could never answer that question.

Never!

Before Jeremiah, she was far from a virgin; she was safe and smart, but that would make it worse...

Milly's mother scoffed, and her hand hit her leg. The sound startled Milly, and her hand trembled.

A warm hand touched her, so soft. "Camilla," Nurse Gracelyn's voice, filled with compassion, pulled her back, and her nose returned the air in her lungs again.

"Camilla, you don't have to answer. We could move on to the next. Have you ever been tested for STDs?"

Milly glanced at her mother, whose jaw tightened, fury growing in her eyes.

Milly's heart was racing again, and the shaking had increased. "Mom! He's clean—"

Her mother raised her hands as she sucked in a breath, her lips curling in pure disgust. "You made these choices, so answer for them!"

Nurse Gracelyn didn't react and kept her eyes on Milly. "Camilla? I am not here to judge."

Milly swallowed, shifting uncomfortably under her mother's glare. "No," she admitted.

Nurse Gracelyn nodded.

Her mother sucked in a breath, her lips curling in pure disgust. "You mean to tell me," she said slowly, voice shaking with anger, "you slept with guys unprotected, didn't get tested, and now this? That's reckless, Camilla. What kind of du—"

"Please, can we refrain from any judgment and insulting words? St Mary Hospital is a safe place." Nurse Gracelyn's tone was calm but firm. "Okay, I suggest we do an STD test as well. It's always safe to be certain with your testing and results."

Milly's jaw clenched. "No," she said. "He was clean. He said he got tested."

"You don't want to use protection, you don't want to get tested, and you think I raised you right?" her mother laughed bitterly, shaking her head. "You got some nerve."

"Mom! He's cleans—" Milly gasped, face burning with humiliation.

Nurse Gracelyn remained still. "I understand. But I do advise you to do it. Routine testing is always recommended for anyone sexually active, even if your partner says they've been tested."

Her mother scoffed again. "If she's grown enough to spread her legs, she's grown enough to take responsibility for her health. So she will be doing it, right?"

Her mom's words pierced Milly's heart, tearing it into pieces. Milly's throat locked on her before she could reply. She saw a shift in Nurse Gracelyn's eyes.

"Mrs. Johnson, I am aware you may be stressed. Remember, we are here for Camilla, so please refrain from these degrading comments. Camilla deserves respect, especially at this time. If you cannot follow that, I will get security to escort you to the waiting room," Nurse Gracelyn sternly said, and her mother fumed.

Her mother opened her mouth, but the warning in Nurse Gracelyn's eyes stopped her cold.

"Camilla, if you do not want the test, it's okay. Your choice matters here," Nurse Gracelyn said, with kindness seeping through each word.

Milly swallowed back her shame and nodded. "Yes, I want it," she mumbled.

Nurse Gracelyn's eyes glanced at Milly and her mother but remained quiet. Then she motioned for Milly to lay back. "Okay, time to start the actual procedure. I would be collecting some blood," she said and drew the blood with a needle.

Nurse Gracelyn handed her a small plastic cup, which was cold compared to Nurse Gracelyn's warmth.

"Finally wants to get a urine test to be completely certain," she said gently.

Milly's feet moved to the bathroom in the room. Her pee slid out. No water was needed. And she handed the container back as her eyes stared at the ceiling.

The creak returned to the door. Now everything was over. Her eyes begged to stay on the ceiling, but it dragged down.

Nurse Gracelyn walked in, followed by a man in a white coat—a doctor.

Not just any doctor; by the looks of his name tag, he was a psych doctor.

"So, the results are back," Nurse Gracelyn began carefully, with no emotions. "Camilla, your STD panel came back negative. There's no sign of infection."

Milly exhaled slowly. Jeremiah was honest about something.

"But," Nurse Gracelyn continued, her voice gentle, "you are pregnant."

Her mother let out a bitter laugh. "Of course she is!"

The doctor slowly stepped forward. "Mrs. Johnson," he steadily said in a compassionate voice, "I know this may seem like a difficult situation, but our goal needs to be to approach this in a way that supports Camilla's emotional health."

Her mother shot him a sharp glare. "Emotional health?!" she snapped. "I have never been more ashamed," she seethed. "Do you know I found out about this from my coworkers? They were laughing at me! My daughter! Eighteen years old and pregnant." Her voice rose with every word. "Do you know how hard I work to break stereotypes? And now look!"

"Sorry!" Milly's voice cracked.

The psych doctor remained composed, his tone unwavering. "I know this is upsetting, but shaming Camilla won't change the situation. Right now, she needs support—not anger."

Her mother scoffed. "Support? She's barely eighteen! I work my ass off to give her everything, and this is how she repays me? Running around—"

"Mrs. Johnson," the doctor interrupted, firm but calm. "I understand you're hurt. But Camilla is scared. She needs to process this, and she needs guidance. She needs her mother's support, not judgment."

Her mother let out another bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Oh, she needs guidance now? Do you think I didn't teach her about being smart?"

Milly felt her whole body lock up. Her mother's words stabbed deep, making her shrink into herself.

The doctor turned to her. "Milly, I know this is overwhelming. How are you feeling?"

Milly barely heard him. Her mother's voice cut through everything else.

"She's getting an abortion," her mother demanded.

The doctor didn't react and maintained his calm demeanor. "That decision is ultimately up to Camilla." He turned back to her. "Camilla, is that something you're considering? This is a safe place, and you have a choice. Whichever decision you choose is your right."

Milly's throat felt tight. She nodded slowly, not glancing at her mother, knowing she was flaming in fury. "Yes, abortion."

"Good," her mother said immediately. "Let's hurry to get this done."

The doctor agreed, and they got the ultrasound machine to check how far along Milly was to see if it was viable. The doctor sighed. "Unfortunately, the ultrasounds show Camilla is around 12 to 14 weeks along. At this stage, abortion is no longer an option."

Her mother's expression darkened. "That's bullshit! She's hardly even showing!"

The doctor remained calm. "Mrs. Johnson, the law is the law. All we can do now is discuss prenatal care and support options."

Milly's mother stood up abruptly and snapped. "I am not raising another child, especially not from a—"

Milly winced, the unsaid word hitting her like a slap.

Nurse Gracelyn's grip on her shoulder tightened slightly. "Mrs. Johnson, please—"

"No, don't please me!" her mother said with venom laced in her voice, glaring at Milly. "She made this mess, so she better figure it out, because I won't be the one stuck with it."

Milly's chest tightened, and her throat closed. Tears spilled, her eyes not able to hold it, forcing it to shut.

Words bounced through her ears.

"Mrs. Johnson, why don't we speak more in the hall?"

Her ears vibrated as each foot moved. But her head began pounding viciously. Even after the door shut, silence seeped into the room. Her tears weren't calm.

The warm hand delicately squeezed her. "You're going to be okay," a voice gently repeated to her.

It took a while for her heart to slow down on the beating, but it was still loud.

"It's safe," the voice started.

Her eyes slowly opened, only seeing Nurse Gracelyn, who sat beside her. She didn't try to force eye contact or rush her to stop crying. Instead, she gave her space, only watching with a small smile.

Milly shook her head, her vision still blurred with fresh tears falling. "I'm dead," she hoarsely said to no one.

Nurse Gracelyn's touch was soft as she rested a hand on Milly's shaking shoulder. "Pregnancy isn't the end. Let me show you something. I will be."

Milly didn't register her words or do anything. Nurse Gracelyn moved the probe around.

Milly turned her head slightly. At the same time, the ultrasound machine came alive. She didn't want to make sense of anything, but her body was too tired to turn. She spotted a grainy image flickering on the screen, a tiny figure shifting, almost floating. And then—

Thump.
The heartbeat.

It was loud and suffocating as it echoed in the room.

Her eyes squeezed shut.

She didn't want to hear it.

She didn't want any of this.

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This chapter was difficult for me to write. I contemplated how to handle realism well with fiction, so it took me a long time to find the balance. I hope I did a good representation of it.

How much do we like Nurse Gracelyn? Did anyone else wish they had kicked Denise (Milly's mom) out much earlier?

What was going through your mind while reading this chapter?

Do you think Milly ever had a real choice in any of this?