CHAPTER ELEVEN
Mark’s POV
I loved trips to South Carolina. I always had such a good time hanging out with Daniel and Ryan, and we always seemed to film great videos together there. That being said, it still felt good to get back to my home, where Claire was. I missed her, even though I had only been gone for a few days.
“Honey, I’m home!” I announced when I got inside, and I chuckled to myself a little.
“Hey babe!” I heard Claire holler from somewhere else in the apartment. I headed to our bedroom, where I knew she was hiding. Sure enough, she was sitting on the bed, typing away on her phone. I set my bag down and sat down next to her on the bed.
“Did you miss me?” I asked, wrapping my arms around her.
“I don’t know,” she joked, pretending that she had to really think about it.
“Hm, okay. Well, did you miss this?” I wondered. I pushed some of her hair aside and sucked on her neck, hoping to get a reaction out of her.
“It’s hard to say,” Claire lied, acting like it didn’t phase her at all.
“I could easily keep going with this, ya know,” I told her.
“Okay, fine. I missed you,” she gave in, pecking me on the lips.
“I thought so. I missed you too.”
“How did things go with Daniel and Ryan?”
“Pretty good. We made some awesome stuff, as usual,” I smiled. “How have things been here? Anything interesting happen while I was gone?” Claire had been wearing a grin, but it slowly turned into a slight frown.
“I talked to Stephanie,” she admitted. That was something that should have made her happy, but she seemed down in the dumps about it.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. We talked about some pretty serious things,” she continued, and I was suddenly worried.
“Like what?”
“Well, my period’s pretty late.”
“Did you talk to your doctor or anyone about it? It’s probably because of the birth control thing,” I remembered.
“It could have been,” Claire said eerily, looking down at the bed instead of at me.
“But it’s not?” A terrible, nervous feeling began to develop in my stomach. There were a million reasons why she could be late, but she seemed so worried and upset. It could only be one thing.
“I talked to Stephanie about it and she told me I should pick up a few pregnancy tests. We both thought it couldn’t be that, but I took three tests,” she explained, grabbing a bag off of the floor next to the bed and taking them out to show me. “All of them are positive, Mark. I’m pregnant.”
I was shocked. At first, I didn’t believe a word she was saying. It had to be a prank, just a stupid joke to freak me out. I asked for the box or some instructions that had come with the tests for proof. She gave me what I wanted and I checked the tests again. Sure enough, they were positive. I ran my hands through my hair as I usually did when I felt stressed, and I looked over at Claire. She had stayed on the bed while I walked around trying to figure things out, and a tear escaped from one of her blue, blue eyes. She was visibly upset, and there was no way this was a cruel prank. It was real. Claire was pregnant. I racked my brain, trying to figure out when it had happened. After a minute, it hit me. She had been off the pill on my birthday.
“Oh my god,” I said. “The condom must have ripped or something without me knowing,” I decided. “I can’t believe it.”
“I’m sorry,” Claire whimpered. The tears were falling fast at that point, and her face was already starting to get red and blotchy like it did when she really, truly cried.
“Don’t be sorry, Claire. Please don’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong! It’s not your fault, okay?” I returned to her side and pulled her close, squeezing her.
“It’s not your fault, either. Don’t even say it is. I can’t handle you getting mad at yourself or me or anyone right now,” she told me.
“Okay. It’s nobody’s fault.” For a couple minutes, I just held her and let her sob on my shoulder. I knew that it would be best if I just let her cry and didn’t say anything. Sometimes all she wanted was someone to hold her when she was upset, so that’s what I did. A million thoughts rushed through my mind, but I kept them all to myself until she spoke again.
“What are we supposed to do?” she wondered, her watery eyes gazing into my somehow dry ones.
“We can start by going to a doctor. We’ll have official confirmation that way, even though those tests are probably good enough. But we can also have questions answered, and we can accept some advice from a professional,” I suggested.
“Yeah, I guess so,” she agreed, wiping her eyes. “I don’t think I’m ready to be a mom,” she added, sniffling.
“I don’t feel like I’m ready to be a dad either, but we both have to be ready in nine months,” I replied.
“Yeah.” Claire looked at my shirt and chuckled softly. “Your shirt is soaked from me crying on it. I’m sorry,” she apologized.
“It’s just tears, it’s okay,” I assured her. “Hey. Look at me.” She did. “It’s going to be okay,” I promised, and then I pulled her towards me and kissed her passionately, making sure it lasted for a while.
A few minutes and one new, dry t shirt later, we were both smiling and laughing. We had to be positive about this. We had to be strong. That was what I told Claire, at least. But after we had a movie night and she fell asleep next to me on the couch, I realized that I couldn’t be strong, not yet. I had managed to keep myself rather composed ever since Claire broke the news to me, but I couldn’t act forever. I slipped away from her as she snoozed and I went into the bedroom with the same thought that I’d been trying to push out of my mind for hours: It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I needed to punch someone, or scream, or destroy something. I couldn’t break anything valuable or hit the wall. I grabbed a pillow and punched the crap out of it. I tore into my closet and found a t shirt I didn’t care about. I ripped it and didn’t stop tearing it apart until it was in shreds on the floor. I would have yelled, but Claire was sleeping, and I couldn’t disturb her or let her know that I was mad. I had been doing so well, and that would only disappoint her, much like the pregnancy that was all because of me. I felt so bad for her. Of all the people to knock her up, it had to be me. The guy that met her by kidnapping her. The guy that had almost hurt her numerous times and narrowly avoided going to jail. The guy that had a terrible disorder of sorts that would never go away. And what if our child ended up like me: an angry, dangerous criminal? My heavy breathing from all the violence I had just created slowed as I slammed myself down on the bed and cooled down. My anger quickly turned into sadness as I realized how possible that was. I didn’t even try to hold in the tears at that point. This couldn’t happen. I couldn’t be a father.
The updates just keep coming, don't they? I'm having a lot of fun writing this story, so I guess I'm just inspired! Unfortunately this was a short chapter, and emotional too. I hope you guys liked it, though. Please vote if you did and I'd love to hear your opinions and thoughts in the comments section below. You can also message me - I love talking to you guys, and I've made a few friends on here from talking to people, which is awesome. If you think this story is worth sharing, feel free to do so, I'd really appreciate that. Thanks for reading :)