Over the next week or so, I managed to put myself into complete denial about the very real danger of pregnancy. It was such a terrifying prospect that I couldn't bring myself to hold it in my mind. Until the day my period was due, I could tell myself that certainly it would come, and that it was foolish to think otherwise.
That is, I managed to tell myself that until the day it was due and it didn't come. Nor did it come the day after nor the day after. This threw me into a state of panic. I had never felt more terrified in my entire life, and this new terror was nonstop from morning until night with no hope of recovery on the horizon.
One thing I knew was that if I really was pregnant, there was no way I could carry it to term. I was only fifteen for heaven's sake! I was an honor student and had a brilliant future ahead of me. I cared about my education, and I didn't see that it would be possible for me to just continue to go to school like that. I would have to be sent away somewhere getting heaven-knows-what kind of substitute for schooling, and my education would probably never recover.
To get final confirmation, I managed to bite the bullet of my embarrassment and go out and buy a pregnancy test.
Of course it came out positive.
This dashed my last tiny shred of hope. I was like a zombie as I went to my gardening job that morning. As I got to working, I found that I just couldn't stop crying. I was glad that Sister Sanderson didn't happen to come out that day and see me.
On my way home from work I took a long detour to an anonymous garbage can to throw away the remains of the test and the wrapper where no one would find it who would trace it back to me.
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