security

I need a friend

Penelope had followed her morning ritual, as specifically as she could. Waking up before dawn, and stumbling to her patio to watch it rise the rest of the way. She'd eaten breakfast, and read, and wrote, but one thing she couldn't do was get over what was happening. It'd been two weeks, and it was still too strenuous to tell anyone. She'd chickened out on telling Dr. Reeves- mostly conforming from her irrational fear of doctors- but nevertheless, the pregnancy was starting to contort her stomach- it was making her different. And meaner. She couldn't get over how she'd been towards Carth, really. Someone who was actually concerned. Thing was, she hated pity. And as unfortunate as it may be, concern feels a hell of a lot like pity. 

Getting dressed was hell, considering the amount of times she changed to hide the bump, and the inconsistent obliviousness to however it even happened. She was still as pure as they come, and it made little to no sense how this thing got inside of her.