As I sit on the bed with the springs digging into my ass, I think about all of the abuse we suffered through, and I’m reminded that I’m spoiled. Even more so under Adrian’s care since I don’t fear bruises on a daily basis with him, at least not any I won’t remember fondly. We’d have fled the house and been back within a week, or at least, I might have.
Under threat of death for both my child and me, here I am, whining to myself over the crappy motel room and how badly I slept last night. I’m spoiled, and I’m selfish.
I swipe roughly at the tears that seem to constantly fall now and lever off the bed to grab my shoes. The small diner in the parking lot will likely give me food poisoning, but I don’t have anything else to eat. I’ve been researching pregnancy on my phone, and it tells me I need to eat lots of lean proteins and iron to help the baby grow healthy. Somehow, I also need to hunt down a phone charger since I forgot one in my haste to rush out the door. Maybe someone at the diner will let me borrow theirs.
It’s a short walk, but even so, I feel exposed outside the hotel room. My black pants and silk blouse don’t exactly fit in here, and I’m terrified he has people out hunting for me. I’d shoved my hair into a worn baseball cap I’d found in the closet, so I’ll likely have lice to deal with after the food poisoning.
I scramble into a booth, and a little old lady in a smeared apron pours a glass of water and waits with an expectant brow for me to order.
Trying to keep things simple, I order eggs and toast. Hopefully, I’ll be able to keep them down and save me from having to make another trip here for dinner later. The woman, her name tag reads Sammy, heads back into the kitchen, and I hunch down in the booth with my arms wrapped around my middle. It’s painfully obvious I need a plan, and hiding out in a motel room isn’t going to cut it. I’ve little doubt Adrian will send people after me. If I want to stay alive and keep my baby alive, I need to get out of the city.
The thought of leaving, of him never finding me, rips open some of the realities I haven’t let myself face yet. How can I take care of a baby on my own with barely any money and no job? Once he’s born, how can I look at him every single day and see Adrian in his eyes and not want to go back to him and beg for forgiveness?
The thought of never seeing him again makes me ill, even more so than the tiny person growing inside me. I rub my hand over my belly. It’s still flat, of course, but I can imagine it growing and how I’ll feel the closer I get to him being born.
Sammy returns quickly with eggs and toast that don’t look half bad, or maybe I’m too hungry to really care.
After I shovel it down and pay, I head back to the motel room and survey what I’ve got to work with. Not much, really. Some clothes, a cell phone, a few pieces of jewelry, and a small wad of cash I found in the bag I’d gathered everything up in.
Nothing of great value and nothing that will tell me how to get myself out of this mess to safety. That’s all I really want…something I miss more than anything. In Adrian’s arms, I felt safe. Like nothing in the world could reach me. Now, all I feel is adrift. My insides feel hollowed out like a melon in summer.
The phone vibrates, the cook calling, and I quickly answer. “Hello.”
“Still alive, I see.”
I snort. “Well, if the lice don’t get me, the food might, so…your day might look up in the end.” I smile at myself. It’s the kind of answer Rose would have given. She was always the strong one. An ache to hold her hand again clenches around my heart. It’s not the same as the pain I feel missing Adrian, though. They both scar my insides in different ways.
“I’m going to meet you tonight and bring you a care package. Something to help you survive until the heat dies down, so you can get out of town.” The fact she’s telling me my plan word for word seems like maybe it’s a tad too predictable. Probably not good.
After another minute of rambling about security at the penthouse, she hangs up, and I clutch the phone to my chest. How did she become my only lifeline right now? Even though she helped me escape and is helping me with supplies, I don’t trust her. I don’t know how I’ll trust anyone for the rest of my life. The thought makes me sad.