Emma broke down instantly, her sobs loud and raw, shaking her whole body.
"Hey, hey, hey..." Mandy whispered as she slid closer, wrapping an arm around her best friend. She tried to comfort her, but Emma's tears only poured harder.
"There are three more in there," Emma choked out between sobs. "And they all say the same thing."
Her voice cracked. "Mandy... my parents are going to kill me."
Mandy's face softened, concern etching every word she spoke. "What do you want to do about it?"
Emma shook her head violently, crying harder.
"What can I even do?"
"Well... if you want to termin—"
"Don't say it," Emma cut her off sharply, her voice breaking again. "Please, don't even put the idea in my head."
Silence stretched for a second. Mandy glanced down at the strip still in her hand. "When did you even get these?"
Emma sniffled. "I bought a whole box after Spain. I took one exactly a week after and it came out negative. I was going to test again a few days later, but then, Jayden told me there was nothing to worry about, so I hid the rest. And now..." She pointed weakly at the plus sign, her nose running as fresh tears blurred her vision.
"Are you going to tell him?" Mandy asked carefully.
Emma let out a bitter laugh drowned in tears. "He'd be my only hope after my dad finds out. Because if he does, he's going to disown me."
Her mind spiraled back to her father's words. Growing up, he always said there was one thing he'd never tolerate, a teenage pregnancy. When she was sixteen and had her first boyfriend, he told her, If she made any mistake, she was out of his house. You'll be two kids raising a kid. Those words echoed continuously, stabbing her chest.
"And you see why I always play it safe?" Mandy muttered. "Condoms or nothing.... Always."
Emma didn't respond. She couldn't. She just stared into the distance, broken.
Mandy glanced at her phone. "Look, I'll check back at night. I promised Maxwell I'd go with him to his art studio."
Emma's head snapped up. "So you're just going to leave me here to drown in this by myself?" Her voice trembled, small and desperate.
"I'll be back," Mandy promised, brushing her hair softly. "I swear." Then she stood and left.
The room fell silent again. Emma collapsed into her bed, her sobs starting fresh. The thought pressed heavier on her chest with every cry.... This is real, this is happening.
Her mind wandered, flashes of herself with a swollen belly, flashes of holding a baby she wasn't ready for, flashes of her father's rage. None of it fit together. None of it made sense. She was drowning in a nightmare.
Half an hour later, she sat under the running shower, knees to her chest, crying uncontrollably as the water disguised her tears. On her dresser, beneath the mirror, four test strips lay side by side. Each carried the same verdict... Positive.
How would she ever face her parents? How would she even survive this?
Exhaustion pulled her under. She cried herself to sleep, but her rest was restless.
"Emma..."
A voice cut through the haze. Her head throbbed as she stirred awake, her eyes swollen and heavy.
"Emma, can I borrow your shampoo?" her mother's voice called from the bathroom.
Her heart froze. She sat upright in bed as panic ripped through her chest. The test strips, she hadn't hidden them.
And then...
"Emma?"
She looked up, sleep still in her eyes. Her mother stood there, holding one of the tests in her hand.
Her mom's voice was shaking. "Whose is this?"
Emma's throat closed. Her tears came instantly, spilling before she could speak.
Her mother's face drained of color. "Oh my God..." she whispered, staring at her daughter in disbelief. She walked toward her, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Please tell me this is some kind of prank."
Emma shook her head, trembling.
Her mom's lips quivered as worry and pain clouded her face. For a brief second, she wasn't angry, just scared. Terrified.
"I'm sorry," Emma sobbed, reaching for her. "Mom, I'm so sorry."
"Emma..." her mom whispered, her voice breaking as tears pooled in her eyes. "You started having sex... and even if you didn't want to tell me, how hard would it have been to just go into a drugstore, get a contraceptive?"
"I...I..." Emma stammered, searching for words, but nothing came out. Just tears.
Her mom wiped her own face, her voice trembling as she said, "We have to tell your dad. The earlier we do that, the better."
Emma buried her face in her hands, wailing. Because she knew her mother was right. And that made it all even worse.
Emma sat on the couch, her knees pressed together, her hands trembling on her lap. Her mother was beside her, lips pressed tight, eyes already swollen from crying. The air was heavy and suffocating.
Her father stood in front of them, his fists clenched, pacing like a storm about to break. When he finally stopped, he turned sharply, his eyes burning into Emma.
"Who is responsible?" he demanded, his voice so loud it rattled in her chest.
Emma's lips parted, but no words came. She lowered her head, her tears spilling silently.
"Don't you dare stay quiet on me!" he roared. "Tell me who the bastard is!"
"Please... Dad, I..." she tried, but her voice cracked under the weight of his fury.
Her mother touched his arm. "Calm down..."
"Calm down?" he snapped, yanking his arm away. "Calm down when my only daughter is sitting here carrying a man's child under my roof like some street girl?!"
"Dad, I'm sorry" Emma sobbed, falling to her knees.
"Sorry? Sorry doesn't undo shame!" he spat. "If you feel grown enough to open your legs and carry a child, then you and that baby can go live with the bastard who put it there. Not in my house!"
"Please, don't say that," her mom begged, holding his arm tighter now. "She's still our child."
"Oh she's not my child," he said coldly, turning to face her. "Tell me, how many children do you have?"
Her mom froze, tears falling. "...Two."
He jabbed his finger towards his wife. "Your other daughter is in Canada, working her internship, becoming a doctor. She's everything a father can be proud of. Even I her stepfather is proud of her. But me? Look at what I have. A disgrace. A failure I can't wake up and see every morning without wanting to spit at myself."
Emma's chest caved in. She crawled forward on her knees, clutching at his leg. "Dad, please, I'm sorry! Don't say that, I'll fix it, I'll..."
"Fix it?" he barked, yanking his leg away. His hand flew at her before she could even blink.
The slap echoed across the room, her head snapping to the side. Her palm flew up to her cheek, her sobbing breaking into a wail.
"Stop it!" her mother screamed, shoving him back.
"She's your daughter!"
"No," he growled, his chest heaving. "You hear me clearly, she's not my daughter. She lost that title the moment she decided to disgrace this house."
Emma was shaking, begging through her tears. "Please, don't throw me out... I'll do anything. I can't... I can't do this alone."
He pointed to the door, his voice like a hammer. "Get out.... Right now. If you want to play house with a man, then go to him. Let him take care of you and your bastard child."
Emma froze, her sobs choking her.
"Give me your phone," he ordered, holding out his palm.
Emma stared at him, surprise written all over her face.
"You leave with nothing. Not my money, not even your phone" He said once more.
Her trembling fingers swiped the screen down, powering it off. She stared at it for one last second before placing it into his hand.
"Clothes?" she whispered.
His eyes darkened. "No. Not a single thing bought with my sweat. You leave with what you're wearing."
Emma's body shook violently as she stood. A shirt, a pair of shorts, her crocs scraping the tiled floor. She moved toward the door, every step heavier than the last.
Her mother darted after her. "Emma! Wait..."
But her father grabbed her wrist. "No. She chose this life. Let her walk it."
Emma opened the door, her vision blurred with tears, the weight of his words pressing her down like chains. She stepped out into the morning air, the door slamming shut behind her.
For the first time in her life, she felt completely unwanted.