Deceitful Choices(7)

My father was a hot head. He had never hit me or my mother but he’d come close a time or two. His words were his weapon. Neither one of them actually showed an interest in my life until I screwed up. Then they were on me like bees to honey.

“Do you need help?” he asked.

I jumped at the sharp tone as his voice echoed throughout my small room.

He turned toward my closet and began grabbing handfuls of clothes, carrying them toward the bed. Throwing them at me in a tantrum, a hanger caught my cheek, but he didn’t even pause to see if I was okay. A burning sensation brought tears to my ears, yet I never took them off the devil before me.

I was frozen with fear as he continued to toss my things around. A movement in the doorway caught my attention, and I turned to find my mother standing there staring at us, as if what was happening before her truly meant nothing. Normally a mother would attempt to diffuse the situation—but not mine.

My mother had been given so many chances to get the both of us out of this life, yet she never did. Instead she stood quietly, with a desolate look on her face. She offered no help, no words. It was as if she truly didn’t care if we killed one another, as long as we hurried the shit up so she could go back to her pitiful excuse of a life.

A deep infuriated tone filled the room, “You got fifteen minutes to get the hell out of my house. Take only what you can carry because I ain’t helping with shit. Get Taylor and her parents to come rescue you, since they’re so damn important.”

I had heard on more than one occasion that my father couldn’t wait for me to get the hell out of his place so he could have peace again. I guess that time had come.

He walked out, his shoulder colliding with my mother’s on the way.

I waited for her to fix this, I needed her to make this okay. For once in my life, I needed her to be on my side.

“Don’t look at me; I’ve told you not to make him mad. Now you’ve gone and done it.” She arched an eyebrow, waiting for me to argue. When I just stared at her blankly she turned on her heel and went after my father.

I don’t know how long I sat there but it felt like hours. Time ticking by second by second, silence filling the air.

Most of my life I was pushed aside and forced to entertain myself. As long as I was quiet and stayed out of the way, they didn’t seem to give two shits about what I was doing.

Taylor’s parents were nice to me, made me feel welcomed and accepted. I tried to spend as much time with them as was allowed, because with them I actually felt as if I mattered. They trusted Taylor and gave her the freedom to come and go, and in turn I was allowed that same privilege whenever I was around. I loved the life they led.

I eventually got up from my bed and grabbed a duffle bag, stuffing in all the clothes I could fit. I filled my backpack and another small bag with anything I wasn’t willing to leave behind.

Creeping down the hall I heard a soft whisper coming from my parents’ room, followed by a giggle. The thought disgusted me. They had just tossed me out on the streets and forgotten all about it, as they moved on to the celebration of their new found freedom.

I tried to find the good in my current situation. After all, I would no longer have to hear them yell at me for being in their space, or yell at me for being gone too long. It was a big win. But that thought quickly faded and I remembered there was still one thing that sat heavy on my heart.

Reaching into the front pocket of my sweatshirt I fisted my hand around the hard plastic. A panicked feeling settled deep in my stomach as I stepped out onto the front porch, closing the door behind me.

Hanging my head I pulled the item from my pocket and stared at the plus sign displayed on the pregnancy test I held. It had been hours since I took it in the bathroom of Martin’s convenience store where I bought it. I felt both excitement and fear as I thought of the little person growing inside me. A piece of me and a piece of the man who, for a short time, had given me a glimpse of what life could be if I wasn’t Lindsay Lauss.

But my lies had cost me so much.

I was only seventeen, a minor, and now I was pregnant with the child of a man I had no idea how to reach.

Tears fell down my cheeks as I walked along the road, carrying all my bags. My cellphone battery showed only eleven percent remaining and instead of taking the time to call someone I just continued to walk. I had no idea where I was going or what I would do when I got there. I just knew I needed this time alone.





Chapter 5





Zack



I walked into our small living space to find Rigdon sprawled out on the floor, with his feet propped up on my bed. He held his phone to his ear, with a smile on his face.

How the fuck this asshole could still have enough energy to form full sentences and focus on whatever it was the person on the other end of that line had to say was beyond me.