by Zoey Parker
But he is the mayor.
The thought made me stop in my tracks, a slow, dreadful feeling filling me. He could bribe a lot of people. He could convince the doctor I was sick, that if I kept the baby, something terrible would happen to me. That this was all for my own good and my own safety.
It didn’t matter that it wasn’t the truth. With enough backing and enough money, I was sure my father could find someone willing to go along with it.
That was enough to convince me that I had to figure out something before it was too late. Dad was going to force me to get this abortion if I stayed, which meant that I couldn’t stay. I didn’t know where I would go or what I would do, but I’d find a way to get out of town and go somewhere that my father couldn’t reach me. I’d figure out a way to survive. I’d get a job and find a place and have the baby, even if I had to do it all on my own.
Thinking in terms like that utterly terrified me. How could I possibly expect to do it all when I hadn’t even managed to have a job on my own? Sure, I’d done a few volunteer things—food drives and SAT study groups—but those weren’t the sorts of things you put on real-world job résumés. Those were the sort of things that country clubs and important colleges liked to see. But for someone looking to hire a waitress? What the hell did they care?
And could I even get my own apartment? I didn’t have any credit. Everything was in my father’s name: the car, my phone, my student finances. I hadn’t done anything with my life that would tell a bank to trust me. Did that mean an apartment wouldn’t trust me either?
Probably.
The knowledge that I was at such a real, difficult disadvantage terrified me. But losing the baby terrified me more. I’d have to take the risk.
I began to hatch a plan. I had to think of something to get myself out of the house. After all, I might have been the damsel in distress, but there was no white knight to come to my rescue. He was locked up in prison for God knew how long. I would have to take a more modern approach and save myself if I wanted to get through anything.
Starting to think things through, I began in my closet. I knew if I were really going to try to make it out there, I would have to pack something to take with me. I couldn’t just run out with the clothes on my back.
I grabbed a designer suitcase that was nearly the size of me. I frowned. On the one hand, it would be nice to have because I could live out of it for a while. I could pack not just clothes but other things like my computer.
“Except Dad’s taken your computer, idiot,” I muttered to myself in frustration.
So, the computer was out. As was my phone, obviously. Unless…
I set the suitcase aside and started digging through my old hope chest. It was white with flowery pastel accents on it and a brass lock on the front. It had sat at the foot of my bed since I was old enough to have a bed with a quilt thrown over it. My mother had given it to me, telling me it was the sort of place where you kept all the important things.
I dug through old pictures and sweaters that had belonged to her. There was a diary from when I was a kid and a pearl necklace that had been my mother’s favorite. I pocketed the necklace, grabbed the sweater and looked in the very bottom, hoping against hope that maybe what I was looking for was there.
“C’mon, come on!” I hissed out, looking around until I finally found it.
My old phone. I had thrown a fit and tossed the phone in the trunk, even though it wasn’t a precious thing like my mother had insisted I use the trunk for. I’d just been mad and hadn’t paid attention to where I’d thrown it. Later, I told my dad I wanted a new phone. He’d gotten it for me that day and I’d all but forgotten about the old one.
But now I was grateful I’d been such a brat. The phone didn’t have any minutes or anything on it, but it could make emergency calls, and at least when I was getting started, I didn’t have to buy a new phone.
Pocketing the phone, I took the sweater and dumped it into my suitcase. Then I frowned. It was too big. Way too big. How the hell was I supposed to lug this around and run away at the same time? No, it wouldn’t work.
Shoving it aside, I pulled out a small backpack instead. I could throw it over my shoulders and carry it easily. It wouldn’t get in the way, it wouldn’t slow me down, and it wouldn’t draw any suspicion.
I stuffed some jeans, the sweater, some underwear, and T-shirts in there. It quickly filled up. Then I grabbed my purse and dug in it to see if I had any money on me. My father had taken my credit cards, but he hadn’t dug through my whole purse thankfully. I had a couple hundred dollars stashed in a side pocket, some loose change, and a gift card to that new restaurant.
Not exactly the complete getaway kit, I thought sadly, but it would have to do. At least I wouldn’t be running completely broke.
My dad had taken my wallet, so I didn’t have my driver’s license, which was troubling. ID went a long way these days, and there was so much you couldn’t do without it. But as I looked around in drawers and jewelry boxes in my room, I found my school ID. If it were for high school I wouldn’t have bothered with it, but this was my university ID, and that was gold. It didn’t have my age, but at least it told people who I was and that I was at least old enough to be in college.
For now, it would do.
And maybe it’ll be enough to get into the bank, I thought, suddenly hopeful. It was a long shot, but if I had a chance to stop at a bank, maybe I could get money out of my account before Dad tried to shut it down or whatever.
When I was finally packed, I carefully shoved my things back in place. Then I tucked my backpack under my bed until I was ready. Packing was the first step, but I still needed a good plan to get the hell out of there.
Heading over to my window, I glanced outside. I was upstairs, so just climbing out and dropping down was out of the question. But there were other options. After all, it wasn’t as though I’d never snuck out before. In fact, I’d climbed down the trellis once or twice before to sneak out with Rochelle—but it was pretty rickety the last time I’d used it, and I was suddenly a lot more worried about how badly things could go this time around. What if I fell? What if I landed on my stomach? What if I killed the baby?
A shudder of fear raced through me. I had never been really afraid before when I’d snuck out like this, but that all seemed to change now that I was pregnant. The stakes were higher, and the risks were greater.
I had so much more to lose.
I opened the window and looked down. The drop looked longer than it usually did. Along the side of the house was a trellis with roses growing up the side. They were covered in thorns I knew, but at least there was something to get purchase on.
I considered getting some sort of rope or something to climb down the window. Like Rapunzel, but without the long hair. Except that I didn’t have any sort of cord or rope available. I thought there might be some in the home gym my dad put in years ago, but could I risk collecting it? Was my father going to believe I was just starting to exercise because of our little talk about a personal trainer?
Not a chance.
I could maybe use my sheets, tying them together, making some sort of rope to climb down. I wasn’t sure that was the way to go though. Was that really a smart idea? Probably not. But I eyed the trellis and the ground again. It was a really long way down. But maybe the trellis would be strong enough to support me.
Reaching over the windowsill to the trellis, I tugged at it a little bit. If it didn’t shake or feel like it was about to come off in my hands, then I’d risk it. But as soon as I touched it, the staples holding it in at the sides came loose in my hands.
“Shit!” I said, then remembered to keep my voice down. I looked around the grounds to see if there was anyone around to hear me. There wasn’t. I let go of the trellis and decided it definitely wasn’t sturdy enough to climb down. I’d have to try the sheets.
I looked over to them grimly. This was not going to be fun. I grabbed my bedding and jerked it off, then began peeling it apart
to see which pieces would tie together and actually hold. The sheets worked best, but the comforter was useless. It was just too thick to tie together.
Deciding that was actually a good thing, I threw it back over my bed to make it look like I hadn’t just stolen all the sheets off of it. That way if my father came to check on me, I could shove my makeshift repelling gear into my closet, and he wouldn’t notice I’d taken off everything from my bed.
At least I hoped he wouldn’t.
As I sat down and began to tie the things together, I thought about my dad. He was making a point of keeping me locked up, what with the guards and everything. It meant I probably wasn’t going to be left alone long enough to get out my window, much less off the grounds. Not while he was around anyway.
“I’m going to have to wait until he leaves,” I realized grimly and hoped it wouldn’t be the day he expected to take me for the abortion. If it was, I decided right then that I’d let him escort me out of the house and then try to run.
It would be my last-ditch effort.
As I continued to tie everything together, there was a knock at my door. “Shit!” I muttered, then balled up my sheets. I got up quickly and shoved them into my closet, closing the door.
The knock came again, more insistently this time. “Caroline, I know you’re still mad, but open up this door right this instant!” It was my father, of course.
I took a moment to make sure everything was hidden before I went to the door. I unlocked it and cracked it open, so I could just barely see him. “I don’t want to talk to you,” I told him angrily. “Just leave me alone.”
He pursed his lips together, annoyed. “Don’t be a brat. I raised you better than that.”
My face turned red, and I wanted to yell at him that he didn’t raise me to be any better in the slightest. This was all his fault, in fact. But I didn’t. Instead, I let him keep talking because I wanted him gone as soon as possible.
“I’m just here to let you know Craig will be at the end of the hall. To make sure you’re safe.” He adjusted the cuffs of his suit, and I realized he was dressed for a meeting. Hope blossomed in my chest.
I tried to keep calm and maintain my anger so he wouldn’t be suspicious as I asked, “Why? Are you going somewhere? Is he my new warden?”
My father narrowed his eyes at me. “Don’t be smart with me, young lady. Craig is a bodyguard. He’s here for your protection, of course.” He hesitated, then smiled a cold smile. “But he is here to make sure you stay put. In your condition, it’s hardly advisable for you to be running around unattended. You understand, of course.”
“I do understand. I understand you’re holding me against my will, getting ready to force me into an abortion I don’t want,” I told him in as bitter a tone as I could muster.
He was unfazed. “You’ll thank me when you’re older.” And with that, he turned and walked away.
I opened the door wide enough to watch him and spotted my new friend, Craig. He was a large, burly man in a black suit with sunglasses. Like he needed them inside. I instantly hated him, though it wasn’t really fair.
I watched until my father was out the door. I heard it close behind him, then turned to look at Craig. He turned his head just so slightly that I could tell he was looking at me. “I’ll be making sure you’re safe, Miss Lautner,” he told me in a voice that was strangely high-pitched for a man as large as he was.
I wanted to laugh at him—and cry at his words. Instead, I said, “Whatever. Just make sure you stay out of my room. I don’t need some asshole sniffing around, thank you very much.”
His lips pursed together tightly and I’d definitely pissed him off. Good, I thought smugly. “Of course,” he said tersely, then glanced away again.
Good thing I planned on climbing out my window anyway, I thought as I pulled the door closed again.
I didn’t waste any time after that. I gathered up my bag from under the bed and grabbed my makeshift rope. I would have to give it a few minutes still so my father would have enough time to leave and go to his damn meeting. I had never been so grateful in my life that he was busy not giving a rat’s ass about me at the moment.
I stood at my window and waited impatiently, my hand curled over my stomach as though soothing the baby as much as myself. Ridiculous. I’m only three months along! But that didn’t change how I felt about the whole thing. This baby—boy or girl—was everything to me. I couldn’t give it up. It was my connection to Asher and the first real sense that there was something or someone beyond myself that needed me. This child would be my responsibility, and I would take it gladly.
The crunch of gravel hit my ears as my dad pulled out of the driveway. He headed down the long drive, and the gate opened and closed behind him. That was when it hit me.
The gate.
“Oh shit,” I said, realizing that my whole plan wasn’t worth a damn if I had to scale that gate, too. Whoever was manning it today had certainly been told not to let me out. And I couldn’t climb it. Climbing down from my window to the ground was one thing, but up and over a gate? Impossible. There was no way in hell I was going to succeed.
Maybe I can find a door or slip between the bars, I thought, the ideas pretty unrealistic given the circumstances and my slightly swollen belly. I was small, but I wasn’t that small.
But despite that sudden, glaring flaw in my plan, I knew I had to get the hell out of there. Even if I got caught at the gate, I had to at least try. Knowing my father had officially left, I went to the door and cracked it just slightly. I peeked out to see if my dear new friend Craig was still there. He was, and he didn’t glance towards me even once, just looking down the stairs, which he stood in front of.
I prayed he would stay that way.
Closing the door again, I locked it and went back to the window. I checked to make sure that, once again, no one was there. When it looked like the coast was clear, I tied my sheet rope to the leg of my desk, scooted as close to the window as I could get it, and threw the whole thing over the side. It tumbled down, and I noted that it stopped just shy of the ground. I frowned and hoped it was close enough.
Taking a deep breath, I hoisted my backpack up a little higher, then slipped over the edge of the window. I reminded myself I’d done this a thousand times before and with a lot less thought put behind it, too. I’d snuck out with the girls and not cared in the slightest if I fell. But I’d never been pregnant either, I thought grimly.
Shaking away my fear as best I could, I forced myself to move. Slowly, I maneuvered myself down the rope towards the ground. I held onto the rope with both hands, wishing suddenly I’d had rougher sheets instead of the silky ones I so preferred. They were slippery beneath my hands and difficult to hold onto, but I did my best.
Leaning back slightly, I put my feet against the wall. But that pushed me out too far. I felt the rope slide from somewhere above and let out a small cry. I let my legs curl, so my knees were against the wall instead of my feet, then stilled, waiting to see if anyone had heard my panicked cry. No one came.
Taking a deep breath, I started again, hoping that the damn sheets would hold. I shuffled down the wall, using my knees to brace myself. The roses growing up the trellis scraped at my skin and tore at my jeans. I was sure some of them drew blood, but I didn’t care. I kept going.
I kept telling myself not to look down. Doing that would just make me freak out, so I clenched my eyes shut and kept going. I told myself I was doing fine, that everything was okay.
Then the sheets tore.
I let out a half scream as I went tumbling down to the ground, feeling as though I was falling a thousand feet. But I didn’t hit the ground. Instead, I fell against a hard body, cradled haphazardly in strong, muscular arms. The man let out a grunt as he caught me and instantly I was furious. My plans had been foiled by my damn jailer, my new friend, Craig.
I started to struggle, flailing my arms around in an attempt to break myself free from him. Maybe this plan wasn’t so completely
botched if I could only get free. “Let me go, you asshole! I’m not going back!”
I was half dropped, so my legs hit the ground. I considered this a victory despite the strong arm around my waist, until the hand that had just been freed slapped across my mouth. “Shh! Carol, it’s me!”
My eyes snapped open, and I stared into the face of the man I loved. “Asher!” I cried, my voice muffled thanks to his hand.
He grinned at me. He looked a little stressed, but otherwise good, healthy. And very much not in prison. I threw my arms around him and held him as tightly as I could. He held me back, burying his face in my hair and my neck, holding me as closely as he could. I wanted to get lost in that moment, but I knew we had to get out of here.
