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Prompt: The color of ______. Fill in the blank to complete the central theme of your story.
Title: Anything But Pink
Hanna Kirst frantically paced around in the dingy bathroom, her hands pressed to her emaciated stomach. Her eyes were wild, spinning around in their sockets like the barrel of a gun during Russian roulette. Perspiration poured off of her frail body, giving her skin a wet and sickly sheen. Her auburn hair was matted and tangled. In Hanna’s shaky hands she clutched a tiny white stick, which she grasped so tightly, her knuckles turned ghostly pale.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock. With each chime of the clock, Hanna’s ragged breath increased in speed until she was nearly hyperventilating. Each second brought her one moment closer to the revelation of her fate.
Oh God, oh God! Please, PLEASE don’t let it be true; don’t let me be pregnant! she silently prayed.
While she waited the 15 minutes until the results would be ready, Hanna thought back on the events that lead to her current, desperate predicament.
Drew had been so good to her, so patient and caring. He was the one who picked up the pieces when Hanna’s alcoholic and abusive father shattered lamps, mirrors…and Hanna. He was the God she worshiped, not that vengeful one in the sky who dealt her such a terrible hand in life. Drew was her whole world, her mornings and evenings and everything in between, the best boyfriend a teenage girl could hope for.
One evening, after Hanna’s dad was passed out on the couch in an alcoholic slumber and her mom had left for her night job, Drew snuck in to her dilapidated, rundown house. Hanna couldn’t believe that there was someone out there who cared enough about her to actually come and be with her. When Drew grabbed her, she melted into a puddle of loving adoration. Whatever Drew said was law to her; anything he wanted to do was a commandment. Her instincts were buzzing like a nest of hornets, but she ignored the warning feeling and escorted Drew to her shabby bedroom. When she woke up in the morning, he was gone.
He didn’t answer Hanna’s calls, and when she approached him at school, he acted like she was a random vagrant on the street, begging for money. He wasn’t the only thing that didn’t come around anymore; when Hanna’s period was 1 week late, she was nervous. At 2 weeks late, she was scared, and at 3 weeks late, she was terrified. And there she was, almost a month after Drew left her, kneeling alone on the cracked tiles in her bathroom, a torn home pregnancy test box strewn to the side.
Exactly 14 minutes and 56 seconds after Hanna took the test, she squeezed her eyes closed and sent up one last prayer. Please, please, be blue! Or purple, or lime, or gold, I don’t care! Any color but pink!
Hanna slowly opened her eyes, raising her lids like a draw bridge ready to cut off all contact with the world. The stick in her hand was white no more. Glaring back at her, like a loaded gun, was a bright, savage, undeniably PINK stick. Hanna broke down and sobbed, her eyes locked on the ugliest color she had ever seen, the color that would change her life.