“Shivana, there must be a father or biologically you couldn’t be pregnant. Is it that you don’t know?”

What did I look like to her? Some kind of Black hoe? I guess that’s what they all thought about us. Bitch.

“Of course I would know,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I’m not a slut. I don’t open my legs for everybody like that. On that paper I put I had one sexual partner my whole life. So, it’s that partner.”

“Would he be open to coming in so we could all discuss this? You have some decisions to make and I think you need …”

I just cut her off.

“He in jail.”

Not that he would have come in anyway.

The woman didn’t say anything. I knew she felt sorry for me, even though that wasn’t part of her job. I knew she heard this shit every day, all day. I was just ashamed she was hearing it from me. I started crying again, this time hard.

“Shivana, I know right now you’re very upset, but it’s important for you to try and think of the last time you had sex and your period. We need to determine how far along you are.”

“I can’t remember,” I sobbed.

“Was it around the time of a holiday or an event? Somebody’s birthday, a big test at school? Something to give us a reference …”

I couldn’t take it anymore. Did this bitch not hear me say I couldn’t remember? I jumped up so fast the chair fell back. I grabbed my jean jacket up off the floor. I needed to get out of this depressing place.

“Shivana, don’t leave!” the woman said. She grabbed me by my arm and wouldn’t let go when I yanked it away. I yanked again, but she held on harder. I guess she didn’t think I would clock her, but I was at the point where I would.

“Get your motherfuckin’ hands off me!” I yelled.

“No,” she calmly answered, as if she dealt with this all the time.

“Get your hands off me!”

“No,” she said again, this time a little louder, then put both hands on my shoulders. She shook me until I couldn’t move because I was dizzy. She picked my chair up off the floor, then sat me down in it. She put another cup of water in my hands even though I didn’t want it.