Me: You're still stalking me? The Devil: I never stopped. Phoebe and I are sitting at the kitchen table, hoping to hear something from the conversation going on in the living room, but it's futile. Sammy and Evan are talking in hushed tones, I just hope she tells him the truth of what's going on. I never thought he was a bad guy, I'm sure he'll step up and take responsibility in whatever form Sammy wants that to be. Gosh, I can't imagine being pregnant at twenty-one, you haven't even really lived your life yet. "I think you're next." Phoebe says. I frown. "Next with what?" "Getting pregnant." She says as if it's just a walk to the supermarket. "First I got pregnant, now Sammy, they say news always comes in threes." "You know, sometimes you come up with really stupid shit." I shake my head and get up from the table, opening the fridge to have something to do with my hands. All this baby talk is making me nervous. I'm not stupid, I know no birth control is one-hundred per
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