"Sash...I know you're going to get this, just like my other messages, but I hope you really call me back after this... I love you, baby, I do.... I don't know what the fuck happened, I swear to God -"

I pressed seven and the voicemail was deleted before I bothered finishing it.

I had no intentions of loving Justin Randall Timberlake or his counterpart, Matthew Hanes. I had the brains to know it would just go horribly wrong. Sasheirah was never a fool twice, but with the help of Justin and his homewrecking sidekick, that theory is out the window. Angel used to be the number one mistake, but Justin...Oh, Justin takes the cake. He was good. He was real good. He played the perfect boyfriend role to a tee. Angel was flawed - he complained, whined, and never made any promises to never break my heart, but Justin... See, Justin was a poet. He put words together in a rhythmic flow that enthralled me. They sucked me in like a child chasing candy. I believed them. I absorbed them in the depths of my soul. My heart cried out for his loving words and ate them right up. I knew that boy was trouble when my body ached for his touch like a dope fiend looking for crack.

Got damn it. I hated him for it. I hated him for making somebody as strong as me that damn weak.

I let a tear fall before I wiped it away. I adjusted the pastel green nursing scrubs on my body and sighed. I wouldn't have to deal with the noise in my head much longer. Work was the best distraction. I took extra shifts for almost two months. It kept me from being home and near the phone. My cell was always going off and so was my house phone. Justin was always at the other end, asking me to forgive him, let him come over, call him back, take him back, blah, blah, blah...

I had to confess that I did save a few messages and played them sometimes, just to hear his voice. The first few voicemails he left were killer. He'd be crying or sniffling in them, begging me to take him back. As time progressed, he got less emotional and downright demanding at times, telling me to stop acting like I didn't want to be with him. Those pissed me off and I saved one just to remind myself of why I didn't want to be with him. He had the nerves to act like I was keeping us apart. I wasn't the one who fucked us up, it was him. After those kind of messages, he'd usually call and apologize, claiming he was all over the place and didn't know how to feel.

You and I both, Justin. You and I both.

I was over it though. Not over us, but it. He cheated, yes. It was done. Justin "I swear I'll never cheat on anybody" Timberlake slipped up and slipped into Jessica "I'm a desperate slut who'd rather be banged by my drunk ex than be completely alone" Biel just to spite me after a stupid fight. I decided to push back sadness and replace with a healthy dose of anger.

The more I thought about him cheating, the more I hated him. The more I thought about them together, in that godforsaken guest house, slapping skins as I slept in the mansion beside it, the more I wanted to jab a pencil in both sets of their eyes. They deserved one another - cheating bitch with a cheating bastard. Alcohol and anger? What a classical combination! He knew what would happened. He calculated how much he could drink before so he'd have a "valid" excuse. He should've drank some more because he was sober enough to remember, so he was sober enough to know what he was doing to me - to us.

Even if we had legitimently broken up - knowing he fucked Jessica in such a short amount of time would've made me think twice. He didn't know what to feel around that girl and I didn't want to be around as he figured it out. I was beyond waiting on Justin or any man. I would just have to join a nunnery and take my dear old Bob with me.

I pouted at my reflection in my bureau's mirror, smoothing the wrinkles in my scrubs slowly. My heart was still trying to stop breaking over and over again. I had taken this one much harder than Angel, but I was pushing past it like I always do: by surpressing every emotion but anger and pretending to be fine.

Unlike the Angel situation, I'm suffering from headaches and nausea. My diet is pretty much shot to hell from all the cookies, chocolate, and ice cream I've been stuffing my face with... Ten pounds in the first three weeks. I didn't even want to know how much more weight I've packed on since...It only worsens my depression, but I keep on pretending I'm fine and ignore the tightening of my clothes. I would work it off later, when I got over him and decide I deserved better anyway.

How you get better than Justin Timberlake is a little beyond me at this point. The boy was everything I freaking wanted and thought I needed, but at the end of the day - he wasn't a man. He wasn't willing to fight for us. He wasn't willing to love me through anything. I had been just as upset after that fight and I didn't go bang Trace just for the hell of it.

I shook my head, knowing it was logical to know he was an asshole and let it go, but my heart still yearned for him. My body still ached to feel his weight on me. I missed his voice and I missed his lips. I missed his stupid jokes and the way he used to steal food when somebody was cooking... I used to think we were molded from the same clay and that God had somehow made this man for me. That it was meant to be in a weird way. That's why I fought so hard against loving him; blew off his talks of 'destiny'. I didn't want to make him larger than life and be disappointed in the end, like I am now.

My stomach shook and I covered my mouth as I gagged for a moment, trying to talk the vomit down. It worked sometimes, but now it was not going so well. I jogged to the bathroom and barely made it to the toilet. I didn't even eat breakfast and yet I was emptying my belly. See what this fool was doing to me? He had me all messed up mentally, physically, and emotionally. I flushed the toilet and rinsed my mouth with a crumpled face. I hated the smell. That's the only thing nursing school could never make me immune to - vomit. I could wipe an ass or change a catather, but Lord, keep the throw up to a minimum.

I fixed myself up and brushed my teeth before snatching a bottle of Pepto from the medicine cabinet. I headed downstairs and went into the kitchen, grabbing a 20oz bottle of Ginger Ale from the fridge. I downed some of the minty pink liquid before I washed the taste from my mouth with Ginger Ale. I felt better instantly and grabbed a breakfast bar from the table. I was going to be late if I i didn't leave at this very moment. I dashed for the door and sped off.

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It took me a minute to feel the hole being burned into the side of my face, but I eventually snapped my head in Clare's direction and caught her disgusted face before she could fix it. I frowned, pausing my eating.

"What?" I grumbled through cheekfuls of sweet deliciousness. I was throughly enjoying my Donut Holes, piece by piece, when I was rudely interrupted by a face that only Clare could manage to make.

"You've been eating like a walrus lately, you know that?" she asked, looking me up and down with a wrinkled nose. I frowned deeply, swallowing the food in my mouth slowly.

"Well I'm sorry," I said sarcastically, "Maybe my perfect little cheating ex-boyfriend broke my feeble, foolish heart before ripping it out of my chest and leaving me hallow. Maybe I'm just trying to fill the void I have -"

"With Twinkies?" she inserted and I slapped her hand away as she reached for my half eaten box of goodies.

"They are Donut Holes!" I corrected angrily, "Why are you being such a bitch? I know I'm a mess. Why can't you support me?" She didn't look phased by my agony at all. She even had the audacity to steal one of my donuts.

"Child, I do support you," she told me, munching on the small, lightly glazed masterpiece. She nodded approvingly. "But I just don't understand why you're sabotaging your health for this man. Yeah, Justin was amazing when he wasn't dicking around, but you were working out and getting toned... And now look at you. How much weight have you gained?"

"You're an asshole," I griped, eating two more donuts and avoiding the question at hand.

"I love you and I'm not gonna lie to you," Clare sighed, "But seriously, you've gotta get out of this rut. It's not healthy."

"I know," I sighed, "Clare, I have never felt this stressed before. I've gained God knows how much weight and I'm sleeping like a boulder all the got damn time... I've been so upset that I even get physically ill over this man. If I think about him hard enough, I throw up. That's just ridiculous... I've never felt this way before. Not even with the whole Angel scenario."

"You've been throwing up?" Clare asked in disbelief and I nodded, shamefully, beneath her scrutiny.

"I know, I know... It's pathetic," I sighed.

"Sash, listen to yourself," she said and I nodded.

"I'm pathetic, Clare, I know," I said, "But I promise, I'll get over it -"

"No, no, no," she said, cutting me off mid-sentence. "Listen to what you're saying." I paused, confused.

"What the hell am I saying?" I asked.

"You've been eating like a damn walrus," Clare said, "You've gained at least twenty or thirty pounds in what...a month. Maybe two." I gasped

"Thirty!" I beamed, offended and scared. "You think I gained that much weight?" I looked down at my pudgy body as Clare's indifference reached my ear.

"I dunno, I'm just guessing," she told me nonchalantly, completely unaware of the turmoil her 'guess' just placed on my soul. I pinched my sides and frowned deeper.

"So I'm as big as a house, I get it," I stated bitterly, "No need to rub it in."

"No, dumbass!" Clare groaned sharply, "How you got through nursing school is beyond me. . ."

"Are you talking about the nutrition part because that was one of my strong points," I argued as Clare rolled her eyes.

"Lets make a list and maybe you'll follow me," she sighed. "Major change in appetite, weight gain, sleeping constantly, vomitting, and you're highly emotional-"

"I am not!" I yelled, for no reason. Clare raised a smug brow. "You're an asshole," I muttered shamefully.

"Sash, put all your college years to good use and tell me what all that means," Clare said softly as I repeated her list in my head over and over again.

"It's depression," I said with a shrug, "Those are all signs of depression." I was certain that made sense. Of course I was depressed. Who wouldn't be?

"When was the last time you had you period?" she asked. I gave her shrug.

"Like two mon-" I choked on my words and piece of donut as a realization hit me. Major change in appetite, weight gain, sleeping constantly, vomitting, highly emotional... "No, no, no-"

"Yes, yes, yes!" Clare chimed in. "You're pregnant." I shoke my head vehemently.

"No, I'm just depressed," I argued and the way I was panicking wasn't helping me, "Stress can make you miss your period."

"So can pregnancy," Clare argued back, "And look at you - you're all golden and shiny. You're glowing."

"I'm not glowing, I just have oily skin," I said softly, "I've fallen off the skincare bandwagon since the break up."

"Oh give it a rest, Sash," Clare said, "When I was pregnant with my son, I was looking just like you. I can't believe I didn't see it sooner. This is crazy." I scoffed. She thinks it's crazy? I think it's the fucking apocolypse.

"But it's impossible, Clare," I said, grasping at the biggest straw I had, "Justin and I always used protection."

"The pill doesn't always work-"

"I know that, but we wore condoms," I said, "I made sure he was strapped up. He used to make fun of me for being so hell bent on protection. He even called me Nurse Betty." Clare wrinkled her nose.

"I don't need to know your bedroom pet names," Clare said, "And you guys never went without a condom? It never broke or anything?"

"No, nothing," I swore, my mind running through every intimate night I had with Justin. It didn't hurt so much to think about him when it was wrapped in a fog of panic. Sure, I can remember us fooling around condomless, but he never came or penetrated... Maybe when we were in the tub and I jerked him off? It was impossible for his sperm to swim that damn well and that damn deep in me. Maybe I straddled him and it was the wrong timing-

"Fuck..." I breathed outloud, interrupting my own thoughts. My fingers gripped the edge of the white lounge table as I closed my eyes and shook my head slowly. "Fuck my fucking fuck-fuck..."

"So you did slip up," Clare assumed, giving me a weak smile, "It only takes one time." One time, indeed. The last time. The night before that godforsaken day. The last time we made love on his bed... We got so caught up in idea of fucking that we never strapped up. There wasn't a pause to get the condom on. All I could think about was how good he felt and how warm he was...Shit. Once again, I got so caught up in feelings that I didn't think things through. I got too comfortable and now...

"I'm pregnant..." I breathed, unbelieving. It didn't even sound right coming off of my tongue. Clare gave me a sympathetic smile.

"We should give you a test first," she told me, "I could be wrong." I raised my worried eyes at her and nodded.

"I should find a cup," I sighed, "And a shred of hope."

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I found a cup very easily. Clare dug through a shelf near the nurses station and pulled out the little bastards. I downed three bottles of water, an ice tea, and some Sunny Delight. I had more than enough 'testing material'. I filled four cups with ease. Clare asked the technician to run four test down in the lab and I had to wait until the end of my shift to get the results.

Usually when I felt so anxious, I seeked solace in my special place - the nursery. The irony was sickening. The one place I found peace held all the things I feared. I was a mess the entire day. I almost gave myself morphine just to dull the ache in my head. I checked on my patients over and over again - to the point where Mr. Thompson asked if I had any other patients who would enjoy my company instead. I made a beeline to the lounge right after that awkward conversation, eating two cups of Jell-O pudding before throwing them up into the trash can that was thankfully beside me.

Yes, I was a mess.

If that wasn't enough, Justin had called. It rang three times before I just rejected it. He didn't leave a voicemail. I stared at that missed call notification for almost an hour, blinking and turning away from it periodically, but always coming back to his name. If I were pregnant, it would be his. If it were his, he would have to know... I couldn't deny him that right. He might be a shithead of a boyfriend, but he would be a good father.

Not that I needed him around. I could raise a kid by myself. I was financially capable and emotionally fit. Plus I had Clare and my mom - whenever the hell I got the balls to tell my mama I was going to have some white boy's baby and explain to her why she never met him and why we weren't together now...

That was going to be painful.

Not as painful as dialing Justin's number and telling him the news. I had to pull myself together. I didn't want to be a wreck. I would just calm my nerves and tell him very straightforward that I was pregnant. I didn't need his money or his time, but it would nice if he spent a Christmas or two with the kid. I would make it clear that the call was solely for the child and not an opportunity to discuss the topic of us and how we can work things out. Baby business and baby business only.

That seemed fair enough and I was almost calm before my beeper went off. Clare was beeping me to let me know the results were in. I checked the time on my phone - it was almost seven o'clock. My day would be over in just a few minutes. My results will be in my hands in a few seconds. I walked quickly from the lounge, as quickly as I could without the urge to vomit. I rounded the corner and Clare sat behind the desk in the lobby, spinning in her swivel chair. She looked up at me as soon as I came into view.

I gulped when I saw her face.

I bravely walked behind the desk and tucked myself in the seat beside her. She looked at me and the four white sheets of paper in her hand before looking back at me again. She raised the papers from her lap and I raised my hands to retrieve them. The papers trembled in my shaking hands before I settled them into my lap.

Test one: positive. I turned the page.

Test two: positive. I turned the page.

Test three: positive. I turned the page.

Test four: positive.

"How good are these results?" I asked, knowing the answer before she opened her mouth.

"99.999 percent," she told me softy. I felt my eyes well up.

"There's always that .001..." I joked weakly. My voice broke and I covered my mouth, catching the sob that fell from my throat. I didn't want to alarm the people running around the lobby and sitting in the waiting areas. Clare took me in her arms in an awkward sideways hug. I fought down my tears, but a few escaped anyway.

"Shh..." Clare cooed, rocking me back and forth, "You'll be fine, girl. You know I'm here." I nodded, finding a bit of comfort in her words even though my stomach - full with more than just the donut holes I devoured earlier - turned in nervous knots.

"Today is the worst day of my life," I agonized, "I want to shoot myself."

"And take my godchild with you?" she scoffed jokingly, "Maybe after the breast feeding stage, but not now. You have at least eight months." I pulled out of her embrace slowly and shook my head, wiping my eyes.

"Eight months?" I asked and she nodded.

"I'm assuming you're a month already. It's just a guess, but you should probably set up an appointment with Marissa," Clarissa said, referring to an OBGYN at the hospital. I glared at her.

"How many people have you told?" I groaned, looking around to catch anyone staring. Clare rolled her eyes.

"I didn't say a word," she assured me. "You, on the other hand, have lots of people to tell." Even though it was plural, Clare was referring to Justin and I rolled my eyes this time.

"I'm gonna call him," I sighed, "I just need a minute to absorb all this..."

"Of course," she said, "It doesn't have to be tonight, but soon. He'll probably want to be around for your appointments and whatnot." I rolled my eyes, thinking that if he could've kept his dick in his pants long enough, he'd be right here with me every step of the way. It was a bitter thought that left a nasty taste in my mouth.

"I'll sleep on it," I said, folding up the results. I held them in my hand tightly to make sure they were real. I stood and yawned. Yes, I would definitely sleep on it.

I said my goodbyes to Clare and got my stuff from the lounge. I didn't feel any different, but everything had changed in the most powerful way. My hand rested on my belly as I tossed my hoodie on. I was so scared of what was inside of me. I was terrified that I wouldn't be a good mother. I was upset that I wasn't married or even in a committed relationship. I was sad knowing that if Justin and I were together still... It would've been a more enjoyable moment to know I was pregnant. But I was alone in this, for the most part. I was going to be the main caretaker. The molder of this human being. It was scary, yes, but impowering. I could feel the soft skin of my newborn and see the toothless smiles... I was scared, but a smallest part of me was excited for this. A part of me knew that I would be very happy with a child at some point in time. Being called 'mommy' didn't seem so bad. I would chase away the monsters under the bed and have the best advice...

My hand smoothed over my small stomach (despite my added weight) and I smiled very softly as I thought of tiny fingers and tiny toes.