"I don't want to get pregnant! What if I die?! Or what if I don't and I'm just stuck here, on this damned island, with one of them. Bleake Isle indeed. Oh, I don't know what to do!" Francesca let out an inelegant wail against my breast, and the door cracked open, Ronson's head darting in to assess the scene. "Why is it always who will they choose, and not what will we choose?" Francesca sobbed. She was right, of course.
