Taking another deep breath, Sarah shutters at the memories. She puts on clean underwear and gently stands up, careful not to see herself in the mirror; or dislocate a joint. Grabbing the pregnancy test, she once again buries it deep into the trash can. Turning on the water at the stink she washed her hands and then her face. She couldn't leave any trace of this depression. Not that anyone would look close enough anyway.

Before opening the door, she makes sure her hated stomach rolls are tucked into her leggings. Then she pulls her shirt down past her bottom. She even practices a smile to wear before going out there.

Opening the door, she can hear all the laughing and celebrating. Rounding the corner into her living room, she puts that fake smile on and causal swagger. No one even looks at her though.