Shop of Horrors
By Lily Mulholland
Carly looked down at the shopping list, wondering why John was always so goddamned specific.
FREE RANGE EGGS x 12
SKIM MILK x 2
BIRDS-EYE CHILLI x 1
And on it went. Why couldn’t he just write ‘sugar’? Eggs? Milk? Red chilli? She wasn’t stupid, but he was treating her like a child.
‘I’m pregnant, not broken, you moron!’
‘Beg your pardon?’ asked a man behind her.
Carly wheeled, her cheeks scalding. ‘Oh! Sorry, nothing. I was talking to myself.’
She pushed the trolley viciously, determined to finish the shopping and get home. John was always bugging her to keep exercising. For the sake of the baby. But tonight he could lug in the bags; she was stuffed.
‘And tell me again why I’m the one doing the shopping? Eight and a half months pregnant? Doesn’t he have LEGS?’
Crushing the list, she tossed it behind a row of tinned peas and turned her trolley around. She pushed it toward aisle nine, the one aisle she never ventured down. Lollies were forbidden by John, who had been on a health kick since she told him they were pregnant. Saliva erupted as she tossed packets of chocolate coated raisins, musk sticks and liquorice allsorts into the trolley.
‘Feed me Seymour!’
The mad cackle died in her throat as she felt it – warm fluid dribbling slowly down the insides of her legs. She was leaking. Carly looked around, panicked and froze. Then the trickle became a flood.