The Absolution of Aidan(4)

Glancing up to this Dr. Brown, who is not dressed like a doctor at all, I sense the same tranquility of peace from her as I did from nurse Karrie. On the inside, I start to laugh uncontrollably. I’m in a god-forsaken nut house, so of course they are all going to act peaceful, quiet, and collected. God forbid they should upset the crazy lady, who somehow got herself pregnant by a man who hates her fucking guts.



And so it begins.

Eight months of therapy. Confined to a place I learned to love. A place where I coped with being kidnapped, tortured, and learning I was pregnant. Followed by every test imaginable to make sure the health of my unborn child was not jeopardized in any way from the events that brought me here.

I’ve been hiding out for the past few months, building the courage to face reality.

Now, a year later, with so much more to tell, I’m heading to tell my best friend I have a baby. Not just my baby.

Aidan’s baby.





CHAPTER ONE


AIDAN





“You Bastard,” What’s-her-name hollers while gathering her clothes off my living room floor. I hate this shit. Do these chicks think it’s only men who get all decked out, head out for a night on the town, looking for a piece of ass for the night? I mean, what in the ever-loving fuck? Seriously, though? This chick wanted me the minute I walked through the damn door of Jim Bob’s.

That’s right. There’s a bar in New York called Jim Bob’s. Best damn bar around. That man and his staff can mix a mean straight up double shot of Jim Beam. On the rocks. Neat. Dirty. Shit, they’d even leave a drink out for Santa if you asked them to.

“You really have problems, dude!” she squeals louder than a mouse when you step on its tail. While I conspire to steal guns, I bet this bitch conspires with other women on how to set fire to a man’s ears. “You’re a dick. An asshole. Trash.” Jesus, I love a pissed off woman, sassy and a mouth made to fuck, but not from her.

She needs to tell me something I don’t already know. Like how the hell to make her understand I want her gone?

If a guy screws around, fucks anything that walks, he’s a man-whore, or a bastard in this chick’s case, as she calls me the word once again. But if a woman does it and we call her a bitch or a slut, then holy war breaks out. They become irrational, insensitive, and irate. Fucking women.

“You got the name right, sweetheart, now please leave.” I lift my brows, standing there with the door to my apartment wide open. “I hope your dick rots off. It shouldn’t take very long as small as it is.” She storms past me, her blond hair hitting me in the face, the scent of her cheap-ass perfume filling my nostrils. Christ, Aidan, you can pick them, man. Classy.

Slamming the door shut with my bare foot, I burst out fucking laughing at her comment about my dick. She wasn’t screaming that half an hour ago when she actually saw how big he is. The bitch actually started gagging. Hence why she suggested Viagra. I mean, good lord, what man’s dick wouldn’t deflate once a woman starts to gag, then looks up to you shaking her head no. And this is my fault? No damn joke.

The only thing she got right all night is that I am a bastard. Hell, that plus worthless or piece of fucking shit. Take your pick. Those words right there stop my laughing in an instant.

My entire life, my own mother has called me every name except the name she gave me at birth. Now you talk about a fucking bitch. She’s the queen bee of them all. Fucking rich bitch with an even richer husband and my fucking punk of a half-brother. Fuckers. I hate them all.

I have no clue who my biological father is. In reality, I am a bastard. So fuck that bitch right along with my worthless mother.

I haven’t spoken to any of them in five years. Even then it was only in passing at my grandfather’s funeral. God, I miss that old man. He was the only one in my entire family who made me feel like I was worth something. Always picking me up from the mansion that seemed to stretch a mile fucking wide in the middle of the Pocono Mountains. I hated that place about as much as I hated the people who lived in it.

My grandfather and I never talked about why he wouldn’t come inside of his only child’s home. I know it had everything to do with my step-dad and my envious half-brother. But what did they all expect when every time he did come around all they would ask about was his land? They even stooped as low as having little Ryan Junior start questioning him about it. The kid had no idea what the heck he was even talking about. I have no doubt that’s why he cut his ties completely from them all. Including Junior.

Every single letter I’ve received from either my mother or her power-hungry attorney have gone in the trash, every phone call to voice mail. I have nothing to say to her. She wants the hundreds of acres of land my grandfather willed to me. Fuck her. I know all she wants to do is sell it. Pad her wallet even more. The bitch can die with all her money. She sure as shit won’t ever get her hands on that land. I have no idea what I will do with it, if anything, but it’s mine. I may just leave it the hell alone. Why not? My grandfather did. I loved walking that land with him. He was the only one who I could release everything bottled up inside of me to. Got me started my love for Jim Beam. “I love ya, old man,” I mumble.