by Ally Vance
Sitting up, I perch on the edge of my bed. A wave of dizziness comes over me, and I bend forward with my elbows resting on my knees and press my face into my palms, waiting for it to pass. When I finally feel a little better, I move over to my dresser and pull out some fresh clothes and quickly change. Resigned to being cooped up in here for the day, or at least until I know Gregory has left the house or is asleep, I stand up and move around the room, picking up and replacing my things, and trying to remove the dust that’s settled in my absence.
I trip over a wire trailing across the floor and manage to stop myself falling over and making a noise. Looking down, I realize it’s my phone charger. I retrieve my dead phone from my backpack and plug it in. While waiting for the battery to charge, I continue to reorganize my room.
When I eventually check back, the power bar on the screen reads 21%,and I switch my phone on. There are no missed calls or texts from anyone other than Gregory, but as I’m about to lock the screen, I see something that makes me pause. I stare in disbelief at the small electronic screen that informs me it’s been nearly three months since I ran away from home. I don’t even know how to process that. Three months? My mind is racing as I attempt to work out how so much time can have passed, but I come up blank. How can three months have come and gone, when it feels like only a few weeks have passed?
I feel sick with the knowledge that I’ve lost so much time. I’ve been consumed with everything that’s been going on at my daddy’s house and the routine I’d settled into, and it didn’t seem so long. I’m at a complete loss. Looking around my room, it now makes sense why everything was so dusty before I cleaned in here this morning. Another bout of dizziness comes over me. My stomach roils, and as the nausea hits, I lean forward, feeling like I’m going to throw up.
Gradually, my head begins to clear, but the unsettled feeling in my stomach lingers. The conversation I had with Jocelyn filters into my mind, and I cover my mouth with my hand. No, no, no! Tears start to fall down my face, and wrapping my arms around my stomach, I fight back the sobs that threaten to break out. If Gregory hears me crying, he’ll come to investigate and find me. I don’t want to think about what he’ll do, especially if he learns I might be carrying Pater’s child.
No, I’m not pregnant, I can’t be. I refuse to entertain that possibility. Like I told Jocelyn, it’s not unusual for me to be late, so I’m probably just PMSing right now. But the problem with PMSing is that when I finally do start my cycle, I won’t have ready access to a bathroom. I straighten up, and wipe the tears from my cheeks. I have to pull myself together. Breathing deeply, I do my best to assess the situation while waiting for my stomach to settle. I’ve no money left, limited access to food and drink, and there’s an incredibly high likelihood that Gregory will discover me hiding in the house. Plus, I’m almost certain I have an extremely angry daddy who’s wondering where I’ve run off to and waiting for an opportunity to drag me back to his house. I’m so fucked.
I spend the rest of the day pottering around the bedroom, waiting for Gregory to either leave on a beer run or go to bed so I can slip out to use the bathroom and scavenge more food from the fridge and cupboards. I didn’t find my abandoned sleeping bag or tent in my room, but I may be able to locate them in the house if Gregory goes out for long enough. Not that they’ll do me much good at this point, but if I do need to run again, at least I’ll have something warm to sleep in at night.
At around 7 p.m. I hear the sound of the front door opening and closing and then Gregory’s car starting. Seizing the small window of opportunity, I grab my empty backpack and rush downstairs to the kitchen. Opening the cupboards I grab some cans of food that I know Gregory won’t touch, containing stuff like fruit and mac and cheese, and I gather a few other things that Mom had bought for me. I smile when I think about how she’d always complain about how quickly I'd finish them off. I wish she was here. Burying my emotions, I shove as many items in my bag as I can manage without making it too heavy to carry, and then I sprint back up to my room.
I’ve barely closed my door when the front door bursts open and Gregory comes into the house, slamming the door shut behind him before storming up the stairs. Shit! Does he know I’m here? I scurry across to my bed, and crawling underneath it, I hide, petrified. My heart is thundering in my chest with the terror that maybe he’s discovered I’m here, but he rushes straight past and into his room, shutting the door behind him with enough force to rattle the windows. I wait perfectly still, lying flush against the carpet, waiting for my nerves to settle and too afraid to move in case he hears me and comes to investigate.
I should never have left Pater’s house; under his roof I knew what to expect, but this is almost unbearable. I’ve been reduced to hiding beneath my bed, trying to remain undetected while my stepdad goes on a furious rampage through the house. When I finally feel calm enough, I slide out from under the bed, brush myself off and let the tears fall. What am I going to do?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The next morning, I wake up in a cold sweat, with nausea ripping painfully through me. Not stopping to second guess my actions, I slide out of bed and dash for the bathroom with one hand over my mouth and the other clutching my stomach. Bursting into the bathroom, I shut the door and fumble for the light switch before lunging for the toilet and emptying the contents of my stomach into it. I don’t know how long I’m there, sweating and shivering in between bouts of vomiting, but I’m vaguely aware of the door opening, and a figure standing in the doorway, casting a shadow over my shaking body.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Fia?” Gregory exclaims in shock, and I stare blearily up at him for a moment before leaning back over the toilet.
“What do you think I’m doing here, Gregory?” I cough, feeling too crappy to care right now that my cover is blown.
Standing up, I flush and then wash my hands, before I grab a fresh toothbrush from the cupboard and start brushing my teeth to get rid of the vile taste in my mouth. When I’m done, I turn to leave the room, but Gregory is blocking my path.
“You’re not leaving this room until you explain what you’re doing here,” he snaps, frowning at me.
I laugh weakly. “You’re not my real daddy. You can’t make me tell you anything.”
Too late, I realize my poor choice of words as Gregory’s expression clouds with anger.
“I’m your stepdad, and even though your mom isn’t around anymore, you still answer to me, Fia,” he growls, taking a step toward me.
I back away, suddenly wary. His words are clearly spoken, and his eyes aren’t clouded with the drunken haze I’m used to seeing.
“I found him,” I admit, hoping to stop him from advancing.
He pauses, his eyebrow raised, and though Gregory looks nothing like my real daddy, it reminds me vividly of Pater and the way he’d look at me. I wait with bated breath for my stepdad to respond while trying to gauge if I can slip past him and out of here before he can stop me.
Gregory looks at me thoughtfully for a moment, and then he starts chuckling, but he doesn’t sound amused; instead, he sounds bitter.
“Is that what this is?” he asks, gesturing at the toilet, and I stare at him, bewildered, waiting for him to elaborate. “What the fuck is in those genes of his that means he’s able to keep spawning all these kids as fucked up as he is?”
I don’t answer, because it doesn’t seem like he’s expecting a response. Instead, I slowly inch forward in the hopes I can make a break for it before he goes off on one of his tirades and lashes out.
“You’re pregnant aren’t you, and the baby is his, isn’t it? Little Fia Richards is knocked up with her daddy’s kid,” he laughs.
“I’m not pregnant,” I tell him, hoping that if I deny it out loud, it can’t ever be true.
He takes a step closer, and I move back reflexively, hitting the wall.
“Oh, you most certainly are,” he hisses, and I fight not to gag as his putrid breath reaches my face.
I’m trapped between Gregory and the wall, and I’ve got no way to escape him now. I slap his hands away when he cups my breasts.
“These are bigger, and your hips are softer than they were when I last saw you, tied up in my momma’s spare room,” he says in a husky voice, squeezing my hips as he moves closer until there’s no space between us, and I have no room to maneuver my way out.
“Stop it!” I scream in his face, struggling to break free of his grip.
“Your mom was so fucking sexy when she was carrying you, all flushed and swollen with his baby. It was one of the few times she let me fuck her,” he growls, digging his fingers into my skin, and I almost throw up all over again when I feel his cock digging into my pelvis.
“Let me go!” I shout, and I lift my knee, aiming to nail him in the balls, but he traps it between his legs.
I reach up to hit him in the face, and manage to land a blow across his jaw. It does very little, though, because I can’t put any momentum behind it while I’m being pinned against the bathroom wall of my childhood home.
“So full of fire, Fia,” he moans, rolling his hips against me, and I let out a sob. There’s no one to stop him here, and I can only hope he gets a limp dick again when it comes to acting out whatever fantasy is running through his head right now.
“Stop calling me that,” I bite out, still hating how sleazy he makes the nickname sound.
“Sofia,” he says, drawing out my name, and somehow that’s almost worse.
I let out a sigh of relief when he backs up, releasing me. I bolt for the door, but he doesn’t let me get far. I find myself being dragged back and shoved up against the same wall he just released me from with my face and front pressed against the cold tiles. Gregory’s hand is planted firmly between my shoulder blades, keeping me in place. I attempt to twist away from his groping hands as he drags my leggings and panties down to my knees. I’m screaming as loud as I can, but he ignores me, jamming his fingers into my pussy and then dragging them back to where no one, not even Pater, has touched.
“Wonder how your daddy will react when he finds out I’ve had you too, hmm?”
“No, no, no, no, no!” I cry, over and over, when he tears into my ass with his fingers, ripping me apart.
Gregory withdraws them, and I feel the pain radiating through me and see the stickiness of blood coating his fingers from where he’s brutally torn the delicate skin. He presses himself against me, and I can feel his hard, jutting cock. I close my eyes, praying for someone to save me, but no one does. My shrieks deafen me when he penetrates me, and then everything goes black.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Pain is the only thing I can feel as I slowly come back to my senses. My ass feels as though it’s been through a meat grinder, and I’m slumped over on the bathroom floor with tears clinging to my eyelashes and soaking my cheeks. I tilt my head back to look up at Gregory who is sitting on the edge of the bath, wearing a filthy, smug expression. Nausea twists my gut and I lunge for the toilet again. Lifting the lid, I vomit until my face is coated in a fresh layer of sweat, and I'm dry heaving through my racking sobs.
I jerk back to throw his hand off when he lays it on my shoulder, squeezing it as though he can offer me comfort when he’s the cause of my agony and anguish.
“Your mom didn’t cry this much when I fucked her ass, but then again, she wasn’t a virgin there like you were. So nice and tight,” he says, leaning forward and sweeping my hair from my sweaty face.
“Don’t touch me,” I reply hoarsely, flinching away from his touch.
Ignoring me, he lifts my hair and pries the damp strands away from my cheeks. Then rubbing salt in the wound he’s created, he grabs a washcloth, runs it under the faucet, and wrings it out before offering it to me. I slap it out of his hand with a glare, and it makes a wet sound as it hits the tiled floor beside me
“Fuck you!” I spit out, putting as much hate and venom into my tone as I can muster.
“Maybe later. I’m not as young as I used to be,” he replies, and I recoil in disgust.
“You’re disgusting. Get out!” I shout, jerking my hand toward the door, wishing he’d leave me in peace.
“You’ll give it up for him, but not for me.” he says, injecting false sadness into his tone.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I deny, but as always, his barbs sting.
“Like fuck you don’t. You didn’t even bother trying to hide the fact that the baby you’re carrying is his until I stuck my dick in you just now. Did your daddy turn you on?” he asks slyly.
“Stop it!” I scream, and his smirk deepens.
“I bet he did. Luke got you all wet and slick for him, and then he stuck his dick in you and filled you up with his cum didn’t he? Over and over again, and you laid down and took it like a good little girl, just for him,” he taunts and I can feel my heart cracking.
I pick up the nearest object and launch it at his face, but he blocks it, sending it clattering into the bathtub. I slowly stand on shaking legs, wincing as my throbbing ass stings with the movement.
“Does Luke know you’re pregnant?” he asks.
“You’re not a doctor, so you can fuck off with your assumptions,” I snap.
“You’re right, I’m not. But this pregnancy test should reveal all. While you were enjoying your little beauty sleep just then, I went and grabbed this from your Mom’s medicine cabinet in our bedroom. She was always so worried I’d get her pregnant with my kid, so she used to keep a test handy, just in case. I’m sure you can figure out how to take it.”
He holds it out to me, and I take it with shaking hands and then throw it straight back at him. His yell of surprise and pain when the corner of the box jabs him in the eye gives me a small sense of satisfaction, but it doesn’t even come close to repaying him for the agony he just inflicted on my body.
“Go fuck yourself,” I snarl, kicking my leg out and catching him straight in the balls before shoving him into the bathtub.
Gregory’s angry shout follows me as I flee the bathroom and sprint down the hallway to my room, ignoring my body as it protests against the sudden intense movement. Throwing the door open, I grab my empty backpack and shove everything into it I can reach. I’m about to turn and leave when I see Gregory standing in my doorway with fury written all over his face.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going, Sofia?” he demands, prowling toward me
“I’m not staying here with you,” I scoff, eyeing up the open door behind him and praying I can make it through before he catches me.
“Do you really think it’ll be better for you there with him? What about when he finds out you’re carrying his baby? I can’t imagine he’ll be too happy to learn you ran off with his unborn child like your mom did, especially as you ended up coming back here to me.”
“I didn’t come back to you. You weren’t supposed to know I was even here!” I yell at him.
Gregory moves closer, and I back away, “Stay the fuck away from me.” I scream at the top of my lungs when he grabs me, “GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF ME!”
“You know what. How about we find out, shall we? I think maybe he’ll thank me for bringing his fucking spawn home to him. Wait ‘til he finds out what I’ve got to tell him” he jeers, and my heart freezes at his threat.
If Pater gets hold of me, I’m certain he’ll throw me down that hole again just for running away. I don’t even want to contemplate how he’ll react if he believes Gregory’s right about me and thinks I knowingly ran away carrying his baby. What will he do to me?
“Let go! Stop!” I shriek, struggling weakly against him and trying to nail him in the groin again.
“Nope, you’re coming with me. I’m not putting up with this. Kayley always behaved herself until she fucked off to her grave and left me with you, but you won’t do as you’re fucking told, so you can go home to the man I know will make you obey. At least, I got my piece of you first,” he smirks.
“I hope he rips your
fucking dick off,” I snap, thrashing in his hold and trying desperately to get free.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that Pater loves his children, even if he expresses it in a completely screwed up way, and I’m his blood. I just hope he remembers that when he sees me again. Gregory drags me out to his car, and opening the rear passenger door, he pushes me inside and engages the child lock so I can’t jump out while he makes his way around to the driver’s side. I don’t sit still and behave. I wrench off a headrest and start slamming the metal prongs against the window, trying to break the glass. He opens the rear door again and snatches the headrest out of my hands, hurling it away into the bushes. I scratch him across the face and kick out at him, but he pins me down and fixes me with his angry glare. The mania in his eyes makes me pause, and I wonder how much further I can push him before he snaps and does something I won’t recover from. My body will heal, and the mental scars will eventually fade, but I can’t come back from death if he were to strangle the life from my body.
“Sit still and fucking be quiet,” he hurls at me, and I cower back in the seat.
Realizing there’s no way to escape the fate approaching me, I stop fighting. But Gregory is mistaken if he thinks for one second I’m going to keep obeying him and stay docile. When we get back to Pater’s house, I'm going to kick him down that fucking hole myself.
Gregory starts the car and begins to drive, muttering under his breath and occasionally growling about how it would serve Luke right if I didn’t make it back to him.
“This is for the best. Besides, I’m not raising another one of Luke’s brats, especially if it turns out to be anything like you,” he throws over his shoulder, giving me a hateful stare.
I don’t give him the satisfaction of answering. Instead, I shuffle around to try and get comfortable so I’m not putting all my weight on my ass. This is not the best outcome for me, and I’m terrified of what awaits me at the end of this journey. I’m not sure what else fate has in store for me, but I’m not going to say another word to Gregory. All I can hope is that Pater destroys him before I receive my punishment, so I can watch him get what he deserves.
