Virgin's Nightmare at the Clinic

These past few weeks, I've been trapped in the strangest dreams.

Every morning I wake up choking back bile, my stomach twisting itself into knots. That's when the terrifying thought hit me—could I be pregnant?

I practically ran to the neighborhood clinic, my heart pounding louder than my footsteps.

The doctor—male, middle-aged, all business—barely looked up from his clipboard. "We'll need to do a full examination," he said matter-of-factly.

But my body wasn't cooperating. A feverish heat crawled under my skin, my thin nightgown suddenly suffocating. I tugged at the neckline, gasping for air.

Because I knew exactly what kind of dream this was—the shameful kind you'd never admit to having.

Invisible hands traced burning paths across my body, setting every nerve ending alight. I was drowning in sensation—a tiny raft tossed between towering waves. One moment weightless, the next crushed by the undertow.

When I finally woke, my sheets were tangled, my skin slick with sweat. Then came the nausea—violent, insistent.

"God—" I barely made it to the bathroom before dry heaving over the sink.

Two weeks of this. Two weeks of waking up flushed and breathless, of mornings spent hunched over the toilet. At first I blamed bad takeout, but my diet hadn't changed.

The mirror showed dark circles, a pale face. That's when realization struck like a slap.

Pregnant?

My stomach dropped. I'm twenty. Single. Never even held hands with a guy, let alone—

The clinic waiting room smelled like antiseptic and regret.

"Come in." The doctor didn't smile as I entered.

My sneakers squeaked on the vinyl floor.

"What brings you in today?" He reached for his stethoscope like this was any routine visit.

The words tumbled out: "I think I'm pregnant."

His mouth tightened. "Young women really should be more responsible."

The assumption stung. "I don't have a boyfriend," I whispered, staring at my knees.

His pen froze mid-scribble. When he spoke again, his voice had changed. "Should I call someone? The police?"

It took me a beat to understand—he thought I'd been attacked.

"No! Nothing like that. I've never... you know. But I feel pregnant." Even to my own ears, it sounded crazy.

Instead of laughing, he grew eerily calm. "We'll run tests. Lie back."

The cold ultrasound gel made me flinch. His expression gave nothing away.

"Well?" My voice cracked.

"Too early to tell."