What Can I Say Now? (Closed)

"What am I supposed to do, now?" Agnes asked her brother as they came in, her belly annoying her now more than ever. "I already bought those ugly jeans mom told me to." She was fed up with none of the clothes she owned fitting her, the fetus grew up more and more each day, and her usual dress was being interfered with. Agnes wanted to wear real jeans and shorts and dresses and skirts. She missed the dresses the most, though. She had gotten so used to speaking in English, that her conversations with Ansel were always in this new language, and she didn't have to think about translations as much as she did when she'd first arrived to England. She were going to St. Mungo's, at her mother and Victoria's orders, but she refused to go alone. Instead, she forced Ansel to go with her, to help her through the embarrassment of walking down the street with a watermelon inside of her and to help her up in case she fainted at the hospital. She wasn't weak about this, she just hated hospitals. They were full of depression and gloomy faces, or at least the parts of hospitals that she had been to were always like that. Maybe there was a pregnancy place and that place was full of other stuff, like food and restrooms clearly equipped for ladies and children.

"I hate clothes." Agnes concluded. There was no reason why clothes couldn't just magically adjust to her changing body. Still, she walked into St. Mungo's as an older lady walked out, and Agnes smiled at her before catching the funny old-people smell. Holding her breath in, she looked away and walked as fast as she could manage. The elderly were very cute, insanely adorable, but they smelled like they had not taken a shower in about a hundred years! The hospital was...well, clean. There wasn't much to it, really, just a few seats in the entrance and a lady with her brown hair in a bun. Suddenly, Agnes felt her stomach crumble down and the urge to throw up was even greater and stronger than it had been when she first started this whole thing. Really, Agnes was more than shit scared about this. She didn't want a kid, but she had to have this kid, the lesson was well learned. No more. Never. Nope. She wouldn't even adopt. This kid would be an only child. One pregnancy was enough. More than enough. Completely shocking. She would never at a guy again. Unless it was Ansel, of course. But, other than that, she would become a nun.

Agnes had handled this very nicely, or so people told her, she made jokes about it and she kept looking for way to keep her life going. However, that was all part of the illusion. Agnes was scared. She was seventeen, and she was carrying her biggest mistake with her, and she would carry it for the rest of her life. Not just eighteen loud years, no. She would be a mother forever. But Agnes herself was barely a child. She liked parties and people and adventures and art. She wasn't ready to stay at home and change diapers and feed a wrinkly mini-Agnes. Or, at least Agnes hoped the kid looked more like her than like Hunter. That would give it all away, and then people would like at the kid and think "Oh, wait....it looks familiar....hmmm." Well, Agnes was hoping t hat whatever baby god there was ruling over all the babies, would decide to make this baby look exactly like Agnes. Or at least give the kid very brown eyes, and blonde hair, like hers. Not hazel eyes and brown hair. No, she was praying to all the baby gods to make this one look just like her.