Chapter 5

Elena

"He will drag you to that clinic himself, Elena," my mother’s cold voice echoed in my head, right alongside the sharp, final click of the key turning in the lock.

I jumped off the mattress and threw myself against the wooden surface. I grabbed the brass handle and shook it with all my strength, over and over, until the metal rattled against the frame.

"Mom! Open this door! You can't keep me in here! Please, Mom!"

Only silence answered me. Then came the soft, rhythmic sound of her footfalls fading down the hallway carpet.

"Mom!" I screamed, slamming my open palms against the hard wood until the skin stung with a sharp, burning heat.

Hot tears blurred my vision, spilling over my eyelashes and dripping down my neck. She wasn't bluffing. She was really going to tell my father. When he got home from his business dinner, he wouldn't argue with me. He wouldn't listen to my pleas or look at my tears. He would grab my arm, drag me out to the car, and force me into that doctor's office himself.

Panic hit me all at once, cold, sharp, and suffocating. My breath came fast and shallow, rattling in my throat. I backed slowly away from the locked door, pressing a hand against my chest as I looked around my small bedroom. The familiar white walls suddenly felt like they were shrinking, closing in on me like a trap. If I stayed in this room, they would take my baby away. They would wipe away this tiny life as if it meant nothing at all.

I had to leave right now.

I turned and ran toward my closet, pulling a small cloth duffel bag down from the top shelf. My hands shook so badly I could barely align the zipper. I yanked it open and began grabbing whatever I could reach. I stuffed three plain cotton shirts, two pairs of thick pants, and a warm sweater into the bottom of the bag. Next, I reached under my mattress, pulling out my small plastic folder that held my birth certificate and identity cards.

From the secret pocket inside my old school textbook, I pulled out my hidden stash of emergency money. It was just a small roll of paper bills I had saved over the past year, crumpled and worn at the edges, but right now it was my only lifeline. I shoved the cash deep into the inner pocket of the bag and zipped it shut.

I grabbed my heavy dark winter coat off the chair and pulled it over my shoulders. I zipped it all the way up to my chin, wrapping the extra fabric tightly around my waist to shield my stomach from the damp air outside.

I walked quickly toward the single window at the back of the room. It looked out over the dark, quiet garden behind our house, far away from the front driveway.

I turned the stiff brass latch and pushed the heavy glass pane upward. The cold night wind blew straight into my face, making my eyes water and chilling the nervous sweat on my forehead. It was a steep drop down to the wet ground below, high enough to break an ankle or worse. But right next to the brick wall, a thick branch from the old oak tree reached out, stopping just a few feet short of my window sill.

I picked up my duffel bag, leaned out the window, and tossed it into the night. It fell through the darkness and landed in the soft dirt of the flower bed with a dull thud.

Before I moved, I stopped for a second and pressed my open palm flat against my belly. The faint, quiet warmth under my hand was the only real thing left in my world.

"Stay quiet," I whispered into the cold wind, my voice breaking slightly. "I'm getting us out of here. I promise."

I climbed onto the narrow wooden sill, turned my body around, and hung my legs out into the empty night air. My hands gripped the inner wooden frame until my knuckles turned white and completely numb. I closed my eyes, took one deep, shuddering breath, and leaped toward the dark shape of the tree branch.

My fingers slammed into the rough bark. Pain shot straight up my wrists and arms, and the sharp wood scraped the skin right off my palms. But I refused to let go. I squeezed my eyes shut against the stinging pain, wrapped my legs tightly around the branch, and pulled my body upward. Slowly, inch by inch, I worked my way down the thick trunk until my boots finally touched the damp earth below.

I snatched my bag from the mud and ran.

I didn't turn back to look at the bright lights shining in the upper windows of the house. I didn't look at the place where I had grown up feeling like an unwanted shadow. I ran straight down the dark side street, my boots pounding hard against the wet pavement. Cold air burned inside my chest, and my legs felt heavy like lead, but I kept moving, putting as much distance as I could between myself and my family.

By the time I reached the main road miles away, the rain had started to fall harder. The wind whipped the icy drops into my face, and water began soaking through the heavy fabric of my coat. Up ahead, the yellow light of an empty bus shelter flickered under the dark sky.

I ducked under the curved metal roof of the shelter and collapsed onto the cold wooden bench. I pulled my wet knees up to my chest and hugged my duffel bag tightly against my ribs, shivering from the cold and the exhaustion.

I sat there in the dark, watching the headlights of rare passing cars sweep yellow streaks of light over the wet road. My hands were sticky with blood and dirt from the tree bark, and my whole body shook uncontrollably. I had no home to return to, very little money, and no idea where I was going to sleep tomorrow night. My own mother and father were going to search for me, not out of love, but to destroy the small life growing inside me.

With trembling fingers, I pulled the small stack of bills out of my inner pocket. I counted the crumpled notes twice under the dim light of the streetlamp. It was barely anything, just enough for a cheap room for two nights and a few simple meals if I was careful.

I leaned my head back against the glass wall of the shelter and pulled my coat tighter around my middle. The fear inside me was still big and heavy, but beneath it, something stubborn had taken root.

For nineteen years, I had done everything my parents asked of me. I had stayed quiet, stayed out of the way, and let them treat me like a ghost in my own home. I had let them hit me, belittle me, and treat me like trash while they gave all their love and attention to my sister Isabella. But I wasn't going to let them touch this child. This baby didn't ask to be part of their cruel world. It was mine, and it was the only thing that truly belonged to me.

Suddenly, twin beams of bright light cut through the heavy rain.

A sleek, dark car slowed down near the curb, its heavy tires splashing through a deep puddle before pulling right up to the front of the bus shelter.

The engine hummed quietly in the dark. Slowly, the tinted driver's side window rolled down, revealing a sharp, striking profile hidden in the shadows.

"Get in, Elena," a deep, familiar voice commanded over the sound of the falling storm. "Before your father finds you first."