Three Buyers Bidding for One Pregnant Hooker

Two AM again. I sat up in bed, my stomach doing those awful flips for the third day straight. Street light leaked through my thin curtains, but honestly, it made no difference to me. Just food poisoning, I kept telling myself, but this nasty voice in my head wouldn't shut up about what I really suspected.

I grabbed my white cane from beside the door and started my familiar count. Thirty-six steps to the corner, turn left, seventy-eight more steps to that glass door with the cheerful ding-dong sound.

"Evening, Leah."

God, I loved David's voice. The night shift guy at this convenience store was literally the only person who didn't talk to me like I was broken. No weird pity, no uncomfortable silences. Just... normal.

"I need some things," I said, gripping my cane handle. "Condoms, birth control pills, and..." I paused, hating myself for what came next. "A pregnancy test."

His footsteps stopped for maybe half a second. Then, totally casual: "Third aisle, left side. Let me grab those for you."

No questions asked. When I touched the pregnancy test box, he said quietly, "This brand's pretty reliable."

At checkout, something was off. The register beeped one price, but he told me something way lower. We both pretended it didn't happen. Some kindnesses don't need words, right?

Walking back to work felt like leaving heaven for hell. The hallway hit me with that familiar cocktail of cheap perfume, sweat, and desperation. I could hear crying from other rooms mixed with rough male laughter. Home sweet home.

In my tiny room, I fumbled with the test packaging, my hands shaking like crazy. Following the instructions from memory, I waited. Five minutes felt like five years.

Two raised lines on the plastic. Definitely two.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

About forty minutes later, someone knocked. I mechanically fixed my clothes, already recognizing that overpowering cologne. This regular always smelled like he was trying to cover up something nasty.

I barely started feeling sick before he got aggressive. "What's your problem? You pregnant or something?" His voice dripped with disgust. "Because I'm not paying for damaged goods."

Before I could lie, he grabbed the test from my counter.

"Two fucking lines! You're knocked up!" He started screaming, loud enough for the whole building. "You lying bitch! How dare you try to scam me like this!"

Every word felt like getting slapped. He kept going about how disgusting I was, how I was trying to cheat him.

Then my door basically exploded open. The owner stormed in – this stocky middle-aged guy who already made our lives miserable on good days. Right now, he looked ready to commit murder.

"Pregnant?" he bellowed. "You got yourself knocked up on my property? This is going to ruin my business!"

I dropped to my knees, begging. "Please, just give me some time, I can figure this out—"

"Pack your crap and get out! Right now!" He started throwing my stuff at me. "I don't support deadweight!"

I was curled up on the floor, dodging flying objects, when everything suddenly went quiet.

Footsteps. Different ones. Slow, deliberate, with this authority that made everyone freeze. Expensive leather on cheap floors.

"What's happening here?"

I knew that voice – one of my regulars, though he barely showed up. Always rushed, always looking around like someone might be watching.

"She's pregnant," the owner immediately switched to his ass-kissing tone. "I was just handling the situation."

The silence that followed felt weird and heavy. I could sense this man's eyes on me, like he was calculating something. Like I was some product he was evaluating.

"Pregnant?" There was something in his voice I couldn't figure out. Something that made my skin crawl.

"Perfect. I'll take her."