The day I found out I was pregnant, I was nervous. I shakily opened the box and ripped the wrapper off and took the test. I could barely breathe and a wave of nausea swept over me. I gripped the side of the sink to steady myself. My aunt knocked on the door. My heart beat faster and faster, as time passed by. I slowly breathed in as thoughts spun around my head. I was scared. The guilt in my chest swooped down and knotted up m y tummy. Tears gathered up in the corner of my eyes and I refused to let them fall. Finally I had enough and looked down at my hand. One for positive and 2 for negative. There, perfectly on the little screen was a number 1. There was no doubt about it. I let the tears drop. A rush of panic grabbed me and knocked me to the floor. My aunt rushed in and cried "Genna, what is it?" I rolled over and threw the test at her feet. She leaned over and picked it up. She gasped and shook her head. I knew she was in shock just as much as I was. We were both scared. What would we do? What was going to happen next?