2: Nowhere to Go

Laura’s POV

The mansion stood before me, and thus, I was standing outside, clutching my suitcase. Even though it was spring, the night air was chill. 

White puffs would come out of my mouth. My fingers were tremulous, but not from the cold. A feeling of fear had engulfed them.

One last time, I looked back at the house, which I once lived in, working, cleaning, laughing, even if I was the only one laughing. 

The windows were dark. Antonio had not even bothered to come or bid me farewell. Maybe that was his final act of kindness. I looked away. 

The street was silent; no cars, no taxis: nothing but streetlights stretching into the distance like lonely stars. 

I began to walk slowly; heels clicking against the sidewalk, echoing like tiny warnings. 

I had no idea where I was going; I had no plans ahead, no apartment to go to, no friends to meet, and no family to turn to.

Just a suitcase, a little cash, and this growing secret.

I was pregnant with Antonio's child. The same man who said, "Take what's yours and go."

Well, I had. This child, this tiny life inside me, was mine.

…

My legs felt tight after thirty minutes of walking. I stopped by a little park bench near a fountain. I sat down and hugged my coat tighter. Everything was quiet. Too quiet. I looked around. That's when I saw him. A man in a gray hoodie. Across the street, standing under a broken streetlight.

He wasn't moving. Just there, watching. I swallowed. Maybe he was just some guy on his phone. Maybe he wasn't even looking at me.

Something sheared in my gut, so I shot up, grabbed my suitcase, and walked away. Faster now. I didn't look back. I could hear footsteps. Soft. But there. He was following inside me.

My heart pounded. I crossed the street. So did he. I turned into a side alley. Such a dumb move, I knew. Yet my legs made that choice before my brain did. I needed to hide. Or disappear. 

"Ma'am?" I spun around, breathing hard. 

The man stopped. He held up his hands, meaning no harm. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said gently. "You dropped something."

He pulled out of his pocket... a scarf. Not mine. I stepped back.

"Who are you?" I asked.

He didn't answer immediately. Then, a smile formed on his lips. He was smiling a sad, tired smile. "I'm someone who made a lot of mistakes," he said. "And now I go about helping to correct them."

I just stared. Was he... drunk? Was he talking about himself? Or someone else? "I don't want trouble," I hurried to say. "Please let me go."

"Trouble is not really on my agenda. I only..." He sighed. "Look, if you ever need a place to stay... there's a shelter, St. Ruth's, down by East Harbor. Ask for Ethan. He'll help you." 

He then turned and walked away without another word. I stood there, frozen. Ethan? That name stuck in my mind. 

…

The bus stop was finally reached. I sat down again. My legs felt like jelly. The wind picked up even more. 

Holding onto my coat, flapping open, I put my hand on my stomach. Tiny. Fragile. But the baby was real. And there was no place to go.

I dialed, but my battery was weak. Just two names left in the call list. Antonio. I blocked him. Clara. I deleted her. Everyone else? Gone.

The years took my mother away. My father... never wanted a daughter. The college graduates I had known became absolute strangers. 

They all disappeared just as I was about to marry. Neither one had stood anywhere holding my hand. 

Another wave of tears rose in my eyes. I cried quietly, not loudly. Just tiny, tired sobs that shook my shoulders.

People walked by without stopping. They carried on with their own lives. I was invisible. That was until I heard:

"Excuse me, miss?"

I looked up quickly to see a girl of around twenty, wearing a yellow hoodie, and holding a warm cup in her hands. "Are you okay?" she asked.

I nodded too fast. "Yes. Yes, I'm fine." 

She stood there for a moment and then placed the cup in front of me. "Hot chocolate. You look like you need it more than I do."

Before I could utter a word, she smiled and went on her way. I just stared at the cup in my hands. Kindness. A stranger was kind to me. I breathed out a "Thank you." 

That night, I spent the last of my money and checked into a lousy little motel. It looked like it belonged on a set for a horror film. 

That was what made it good. The walls were stained yellow. The bed groaned with every move. The sheets smelled like old smoke.

But it had a lock. One night was enough. I sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the old wallpaper.

Everything hurt. My feet. My back. My heart. And yet... when I closed my eyes, I did not think of Antonio. I thought of the man with the hoodie. "Ask for Ethan."

There was that name again. Who was he? Why would he say he fixes mistakes? And why... did I feel like he was not even talking about himself?

I lay on my side, curled into a fetal position. My hand rested once again on my belly. "I don't know what tomorrow will look like, but I promise you... I will fight for you."

One tear rolled down my cheek. I went to sleep. But little did I know... By morning, Antonio would be on TV... smiling and proudly announcing his engagement, standing alongside Clara, holding a microphone.