Page 35 of Little Child Gone (Nikki Hunt #10)

TWENTY

UNKNOWN

The streets blurred past as the teenaged girl sprinted down her street, her heart pounding in her chest like a drum.

Panic surged through her veins, propelling her forward with a speed that astonished her.

She barely registered the curious glances of passersby, her mind singularly focused on one thing: getting home.

It had been a week since her missed period, and the dread that had nestled in her stomach had grown into a suffocating fear.

The girl had tried to ignore it, hoping that it was just a fluke, but the gnawing anxiety refused to be silenced.

Her friends had noticed her distraction, but she had brushed off their concerns with forced smiles and hollow reassurances.

Her brother was too busy with basketball season and her mother didn’t seem to notice much of anything unless it was to freak out about how the canned vegetables weren’t perfectly organized or to scream at her kids if they tried to get into one of the locked cabinets because the small portions of food they were allotted a day just weren’t enough.

She’d told herself that her period would be starting any moment all week.

Stress caused hormonal issues, especially in girls who didn’t have a regular period.

It wouldn’t be the first time her period came at the wrong time, but by the seventh day, she couldn’t ignore the nagging fear in the back of her head any longer.

The weight of uncertainty was unbearable.

During lunch break, she had slipped away to the nearest pharmacy, her fingers trembling as she handed over the money for the pregnancy test. The small rectangular box now felt like it weighed a ton in her backpack, each step making it seem heavier.

As she neared her house, the girl’s breath came in ragged gasps.

Her neighborhood, usually a haven of comfort, now seemed alien and foreboding, even though she knew the house would be empty, at least for the next thirty minutes or so.

She fumbled with her keys, her hands slick with sweat, and finally managed to unlock the door.

The familiar creak of the hinges greeted her, but it did little to calm her racing heart.

She dashed up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and burst into the bathroom. Locking the door behind her, she leaned against it, trying to catch her breath. The silence of the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of her rapid breathing.

Her hands shook as she pulled the test out of her backpack, the plastic wrapper crinkling loudly in the quiet space. The instructions blurred with the tears already building in her eyes, but she forced herself to read them carefully, her mind racing with a thousand what-ifs.

As she waited for the results, the seconds stretched into an eternity. She stared at the tiled floor, her vision unfocused, and tried to steady her breathing. The test lay on the edge of the sink, its white plastic casing stark against the porcelain.

Her thoughts spiraled in a chaotic whirlpool of fear and hope. What would she do if it was positive? The future, once so bright and full of promise, now loomed before her like a dark, impenetrable fog.

Finally, the timer on her phone beeped, startling her out of her reverie. She took a deep breath and forced herself to look at the test. Two lines. Positive.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis, and she sank to the floor, her legs unable to support her. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape.

In that moment, the weight of the future pressed down on her shoulders, and she felt more alone than ever before. Her mother would never believe the truth.