Well, shit happens.

He's still the same asshat he always was, and it's not like you chose your clothing today.

You coldly wish him a good night, even though what you really wish him is a cold night with the fishes, if any are interested.

You get back home, throw everything you wear into the trash and take the longest shower ever.

You don't know when Jake will be back, nor that you'll tell him, but you know you're not fucking Brad again this week. Your pussy needs more rest than a Republican Senator. You wonder what you're going to eat for dinner, when suddenly it hits you.

You did not take the pill today. You did not take the pill yesterday. You did not take the pill the day before. You've been walking around for two days filled to the brim with cum. This is bad. This is real bad. You rush to the kitchen, and you realize the pills are gone. What the hell? Did Jake remove them? No, that's ridiculous. But... wait. BRAD. You see through his play now. The fucking son of a bitch. That's why he kept you all night. And he knows well enough that as a catholic, you can't get an abortion. Can you at least take the morning after pill? You pale. It's 48 hours, isn't it? You're truly, truly fucked, and well fucked.

You beg to God... please, please don't let me be pregnant. It's not exactly that time of the month. I might get through this unscathed. Maybe his cum isn't that potent. Please.