Chapter 8 Positive

CHAPTER 8

ZYLIAH'S POV

The doorbell rang. Delia looked at me in surprise, while I just stared ahead like I wasn't even there. It was dinnertime, and the maids had already prepared the evening meal.

Delia had asked them to make my favorite-well-done steak and mashed potatoes with vegetables. There was also a cold pitcher of apple juice to go with it.

Delia had dragged me out of my room to eat, since I hadn't had anything in what felt like forever. I couldn't even remember the last proper meal I had.

I believed she felt guilty. That's why she'd asked the maids to make my favorite for dinner.

"Hey, girls." Natasha ran towards us, her arms spread wide.

She pulled both Delia and me into a hug, but then let go of Delia and held me tighter against her chest.

I couldn't even struggle free or say a word. I was too weak for that.

"I came as soon as I saw that stupid video." She finally let go of me and took a seat at the dining table, stealing a sip of Delia's juice. "Zee, you look terrible."

"What video?" Delia asked.

"Haven't you been online today? Here." She fished out her phone from the overnight bag she'd brought with her. She was here to spend the night.

Delia's face crumpled as more guilt ate her up. "It's my fault."

I didn't need to see the video to know it was the one of me at the mall earlier today.

The aroma of the food stirred something unpleasant in the pit of my stomach. It was nauseating, and I was trying hard to hold it in.

While Delia explained what had happened at the mall, I fought the urge to throw up.

Delia noticed my pale, sweaty face. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, but I didn't trust myself to speak at that point.

"Do you need water?" Natasha asked, already pouring a glass for me.

I accepted it and took a small sip. The cold liquid had barely hit my throat when I bolted from the chair and dashed to the downstairs bathroom.

Head over the toilet, streams of disgusting green liquid and digested food particles sprang from my mouth straight into the bowl.

Footsteps neared.

"Oh my goodness, do you think she's sick?" Natasha asked, concern lacing her voice as she gathered my loose hair into a bun.

"She's vomiting, Natasha. Of course she's sick." Delia came over to rub my back as I keeled over, still retching.

By the time I was done, my whole body trembled weakly. With help from my friends, I managed to push myself to my feet and rinse my mouth.

Delia asked for tea to be made for me. When it arrived, its smell wafted into my nostrils, and the urge came on again.

I made a second trip to the bathroom and hovered over the sink. Nothing came out, but I kept retching and retching until tears of frustration fell.

I rinsed my mouth yet again and made to go to my room. At this point, I was feeling so exhausted and frail I could barely stand.

"My room." Those were the only two words I could manage to say.

My friends followed, each staying on one side of me, supporting. The stairs seemed far away and tedious. I finally got close and began the climb, and two steps later, the house spun, upsetting my balance.

The last thing I heard before giving in to the strong pull of darkness was both of my friends calling out my name in great alarm.

The first sound I heard as soon as I came to was the steady, controlled beeping. My eyes fluttered open as I took in my environment.

The white light overhead was a tad too sharp for my weak eyes, making me almost wince.

"You're awake." It was Delia, moving slowly into my line of sight.

"Where..." My throat was dry. "Water," I rasped out hoarsely.

"She's awake." Natasha came in just then, holding two bottles of water. Delia took one, uncapped it, and had me drink in small, slow sips.

I could only stomach about a glass's worth.

"Do I need to get the doctor?" Natasha asked, gazing directly at me. "Have you told her yet?" she directed at Delia.

"Tell...tell me what?" My gaze flickered curiously between the two of them, searching their faces.

Delia stared at me for a little while, as though she was considering telling me what it was. "You're pregnant."

"What?!" That was hard to believe. It just couldn't be true.

"And I hate to know that Fynn is responsible. Stupid bastard!" Natasha snapped, her face tightening with anger.

"What? No." I shook my throbbing head. I couldn't even tell which I was denying-whether the baby wasn't Fynn's or that I was pregnant at all.

"I'm so sorry, Zee. You don't have to let Fynn know. You can raise the child as yours. We'll be ready to step in and help you," Delia comforted in a soothing tone.

The machine beeped erratically, signalling my rising heart rate. Tears flowed to the surface as my head pounded viciously on both sides.

What was I going to do? I took contraceptive pills-why didn't it work?! Why?!

"Go get the doctor, Nat. Her heart rate is increasing." The urgency and worry in her tone were laced through every word.

"How can I be pregnant, Delia? And at this time? What do I do?!" Tears streamed freely down my cheeks.

"Crying yourself sick won't make any difference, Zee. It's okay. Quit with the crying already-you're as pale as a ghost and thinner than I think is healthy. Please, stop crying," she consoled, sympathy rolling off her words and masking her expression.

The doctor came in with Natasha solidly behind him. A nurse was beside her, carrying one of those silver tray thingies filled with syringes and medical whatnots.

The doctor beckoned for the nurse to move closer. He picked up a syringe and peered through it as he spoke to me. "You need to be calm, Miss. Any further stress will jeopardize both your pregnancy and your own health."

Delia and Natasha stood supportively on either side of my bed, watching as the doctor carefully pierced the syringe into the skin on my upper left arm.

Within seconds, I felt lightheaded and dizzy. My body fell back limply onto the bed as voices murmured around me.

My last thought before I gave in to stillness was the mysterious stranger I'd had a one-night stand with-and the baby we'd, though unplanned, created together.