anyone about the abuse...
People didn’t get it. They didn’t understand why you wouldn’t talk to them, why you wouldn’t just leave, just get out – as though any abuser made that even remotely possible.
Every move of rebellion came with consequences that were impossible to understand unless you’d been abused yourself.
But I was getting out now. I was getting away, and I’d had to scheme and scam for well over six months just to have enough for gas and a room. I’d packed a few essentials into the trunk of the Camry, and that was that.
I was doing this.
What those helpful people needed to realize was that if I fucked up my escape in any way whatsoever, I would be dead – or wish that I was. Women didn’t leave for a reason.
I grabbed a bottled water from the fridge, picked my keys up off the kitchen counter, and promptly threw up in the sink.
I’d been throwing up for the last week. At first I’d thought I was sick, and then I’d realized it was just nerves.
But there was another possibility that I didn’t want to even think about.
“Just do it and get it over with.” I spoke the words to the lonely silence of the empty trailer.
There was a pregnancy test from the dollar store sitting in my purse. I’d thrown it in the cart yesterday when I did my last grocery run for Randall.
I had promised myself to take it before I left. It was information that I needed to know. I wasn’t sure what I would do with the results, but I could figure that out later. Somewhere else.
Somewhere safe.
I walked dutifully to the bathroom. This was the last time I would ever have to see this godforsaken room again.
That’s what I told myself while I waited patiently for my results.
Get the results and go. Just get the results and go.
Two blue lines.
I stopped breathing and frantically looked at the package, although I already knew exactly what two lines meant.
The world seemed to freeze then.
As much as I had assured myself that pregnant or not, I would still charge out that door and be fine, I hesitated.
A baby. I was going to have a baby. On my own.
I was going to raise a baby on my own while working for minimum wage and living in a shitty motel room.
Or I was going to make it to Nashville, have an abortion, and then see what my mental state was like afterwards – when it was too late to take it back.
This wasn’t a fair decision. It wasn’t.
I was used to being alone – hadn't I always been? And being with Randall had allowed me to experience the most severe form of “alone” imaginable.
But a baby?
A baby shouldn’t have to be alone. I was positive that I would ruin the kid’s life simply because mine had been crap since birth.
The trailer door swung open loudly, and I looked at myself in the mirror.
My chance. I’d missed my chance.
Randall came stomping down the hall, calling out my name. He stuck his head in the bathroom before I even had a second to pull myself together. To act.
“The tavern’s slow as fuck tonight. Told Jim I’d be back to close, but ain’t no point of –” Randall froze. “What the hell is that? Is that a prego stick? Are you pregnant, Val? We havin’ a baby?”
He was excited, and his reaction only made me freeze longer. I felt like someone had dropped me into a giant, endless ocean and the only thing that I could do was tread water.
Randall picked up the stick himself, and then the packaging for clarification.
“We’re having a baby, Valerie Anne! We’re having a damn baby!” He picked me up and swung me around. His eyes were happy. I saw a glimpse of the charming man who had swept me off my feet only a year ago.
I couldn’t smile. I couldn’t do anything.
Randall sat me down and cupped my face in his hands.
“Val, I know. I know I’ve been real hard on you. I’m just tryin’ to take care of you. You’re an orphan. You don’t know how dangerous the world is. Everything I’ve done is to protect you.” He believed what he was saying. I could see it in his eyes. “You gotta know I won’t lay a hand on you again, okay? You’re the mother of my child. I won’t hurt ya no more, okay? You still got so much to learn, but... I’ll teach ya