He tried to send me away. Didn’t want me to see. But I wanted to see. I wanted to know exactly. Needed to.

What I heard in his father’s house, it pales in comparison to what I witnessed that night.

“Miss.”

I blink. The man behind the counter looks annoyed. “Sorry.” I empty my basket of things I don’t need—magazines, candy, cold medicine—not to bring attention to the one thing I do. The pregnancy test.

I’m sure now. The test is extra. I’m late. My body feels different, more achy and tender. And I can’t keep food down morning, noon or night.

The clerk tells me the total as he bags my things and I pay him in cash, take my change and leave. I don’t even say goodbye. The drug store is two blocks from my house and Ricco and another man whose name I don’t remember are following a few paces behind me. They’re not subtle, but I manage to ignore them. Besides, I don’t think they’re meant to be subtle. Sergio wants anyone who may try to take me again to think twice.

He calls me each night but I don’t know where he is and he hasn’t tried to come over. I thought he would. I can guess what he’s doing. The damage he did the other night was only the beginning. He’ll punish whoever was responsible. Am I supposed to feel guilty about that? I don’t. And again, the same question comes up: what does that make me?

I told him what I could remember about the man in the suit. Told him I thought the others were set up. That the leader knew Sergio would come. Knew what he’d do. I was always meant to be rescued. Another message, a louder one than the funeral flowers left on my doorstep.

I unlock the front door, my fingers icy as I push it open. I’m wearing knitted fingerless mittens. Not a smart choice for the temperature, but I’m lucky I got shoes and a coat on before leaving the house. I haven’t brushed my hair in days. My brain is mush.

After locking the door behind me, I set everything down, give Pepper a pat and head upstairs. I don’t look at the instructions. It’s pretty self-explanatory. Pee on the stick, of which there are two in this box.

I pee on that little stick and set it on the counter. I’m looking at the image on the back of the box, the one with the two pink lines as if I need it to know what they mean. But it’s faster than I expect. It doesn’t take a full minute before they appear on the stick.

Strange, I thought this official confirmation would feel different, but it doesn’t.