I'm 13 Years Old... And Pregnant?!

Some days, pregnancy is a blast. And others, it just straight out sucks.
Today is one one of those days that just straight out sucks.

I woke up this morning only to find that my mom room was in a completely mess. "Wow..." I mumbled, struggling out of bed. Crash! My closet door flung open, and out came Julien, tears running down his face. "Breagh!" he screamed, throwing his arms around me, crying harder and harder with each breathe. Julien hugged tighter, to the point where I fell down on the ground. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.

"Shhh... Julien, quiet. Shh. Take a deep breath." Julien took 3 deep breathes and bursted out in tears again. I hid my smile. "What's wrong, Jules?" He glanced down at me, and then at his knee. "Okay, okay. Come on," I said, pushing him off me and slowly standing up. I picked Julien up and placed him on my bed, and unraveled his left pant leg.

"Oww!" Julien whined. I giggled, this time not able to hide it. "Jule, there's nothing there. Just a little bruise. You wait." I wobbled out of the room, off to the kitchen.

"Good morning, Breagh," Flore said. "Someone's up bright and early."

I groaned. "I wouldn't have gotten up if Julien wasn't trashing my room."

Flore laughed. "Now that's the Julien I know. What's he up to now?" "He fell," I responded, grabbing a banana. "You better go bandage him all up. He's in tears."

"Oh," Flore mumbled. She ran up the stairs in a hurry. In a matter of seconds, Julien had stopped crying.

"So, where are you going today, Breagh?" Flore shouted from my room.

"I don't know," I called back. "I'll probably just bike around a bit. I could use the exercise." I could almost hear Flore smiling.

I finished the banana, throwing the peal in the garbage and made my way up to my room again. Julien jumped off my bed and hugged me. I smiled and tore him off me. "Go away, Julien. You trashed my room, and it better be cleaned up when I'm back."

Julien cocked his head, and ran off to his room. Flore then left my room, back to her place in the kitchen. I walked into my room and shut my door, taking a deep breathe and slowly picking every thing Julien had thrown across the room.

I knew he wouldn't end up doing it. I picked up one my favorite pink scarves, only to find a book underneath it. I recognized it at once, and I almost started crying right then and there. I picked up the book, staring at it. It felt so heavy, maybe because of the amount of memories it held. I sighed and walked back to my bed. I sat down, and opened the book on my lap.

The first picture was the one that brought the tears. There, staring right back at me, was myself. And Julien. And my parents. The memory came crashing down onto me. That one day at the beach, where Julien got bit by leeches when he was building a sandcastle. I was trying to perfect my underwater handstand, my mom was tanning and my father was taking numerous pictures of the amazing scenery. We all looked so happy, all golden brown, our smiling faces piercing my heart. But I dared myself to go forward, to turn the page.

The next one was my 8th birthday party. My mom had her arm around me, looking away from the camera with her smiling face. I was staring at my cake, my lungs full with air to blow out the infamous candles. Julien sat off in a corner, playing with his trucks, he was only 4 at the time. My dad was obviously the one taking the picture. Even though I had probably seen this picture thousands of times, the candles have never looked brighter. My mom's hair has never looked more beautiful. My brother's games never looked like so much fun, and I never looked happier.

That one 8th birthday, if I remember correctly, was when I got the newest Barbie doll. I was the happiest girl in the whole wide world that day. And since then, I've never been that happy, ever.

By now, I was bawling. I screamed and cried, and the tears ran down my face faster than anything. I threw the photo album to the other side of my room, and turned to face my pillow. They're gone now, they're both gone. And they're never coming back. I know I'll never see Julien smiling the same way again. Sure, we'll all recover one day, but not completely. One part of our hearts will always be missing, and no matter how hard we try, we'll never be able to mend that big of a break. They're gone.

I stayed that way, facing my pillow and crying, until I heard my door open. "Breagh?" Flore whispered.

"What?" I screamed, facing her.

"I just... just wanted to know if you were okay."

I turned to my pillow again. "I'm not," I whispered. "And I won't ever be, never again. Not after they died, not after they're gone. They're never coming back, Flore. Don't you understand? Never, ever. I'll never see they're smiling faces again."

Flore stood in silence. The only sound was our breathing. "Oh, Breagh..." she whispered. More silence. Slowly and quietly, Flore left the room.

I stood up at the ceiling, a million thoughts running through my head at the same time. My parents. Julien. Rob. Flore. Terra. My babies. Tallan. Brandon. I gasped and sat up. Brandon. I jumped off the bed and ran into my closet, picking any shirt and any pair of jeans. I threw them on, snatched a pair of socks and ran out the door.

"Flore, I have to go. I'll be back... soon." I ran down the stairs and slipped into my shoes.

I didn't really care if Flore heard me or not. I opened the door and slammed it closed. Flore hated when I did that. I grabbed my bike from the side of the house, jumped onto it and started pedaling at light speed. Each street flew by, but it didn't matter which street was which. I knew by memory which was Brandon's.

After a few minutes, I arrived at Brandon's house. I ran off the bike, and up to Brandon's door. No doorbell, I remembered. ]Brandom!" I shouted, knocking as hard s I could.

"Brandon, please! I have to talk to you!" I knocked harder and harder, until I could barely feel my knuckles.

"Brandon! Please!" I sighed. It wasn't any use, he was probably out someone with his new girlfriend, which I'm sure he had. That's when my phone rang. PHONE! I thought, and grabbed it out of my pocket. After this call, I'll call Brandon. I flipped the phone open.

"Hello?" I nearly shouted.

"Breagh!" the voice shouted back at me. It was Flore.

"Flore! I'm sorry, I told you I was leaving but I guess you-"

"Breagh, that's not it! It's Brandon!" She shouted again.

"What about him? I'm at his house now, actually. I have to talk to him-"

"Breagh, listen! He just called the house."

"And? Did he ask for me?"

"No, Breagh. He... actually... he told me he was going to kill himself. And he told me to tell you."

I gasped, searching to find my breath. "No," I whispered. Running back to my bike.

"No! He can't! I can't lose him, too. I can't, I can't!" My phone dropped to the ground, and my shaking hand struggled to pick it up.

"Breagh? Breagh?" Flore was calling into the phone.

"Flore, I'm here. I'm here. Fuck, I've got to find Brandon!" I didn't care if I swore or not- Brandon was worth it.

"Breagh, I'm calling the police. They can trace the call." She hung up, leaving me speechless.

I stared at Brandon's house, my eyes trailing up to his bedroom window. Tears flowed in my eyes. "Not Brandon, no, not Brandon. He said he was sorry. Not Brandon."

I looked down at the sidewalk. "Please, please... please let him be alive." I remembered my phone, which was still in the palm of my hand. I flipped it open as fast as I could and dialed Brandon's number. It rang. Again. Again. Again. Again.

And then, someone picked up. "Hello?" The voice said, shakily. I could tell the person had been crying. And it wasn't Brandon.