I kept my face glued to the window until I was no longer able to see him, “Would you stop your whining, you whore,”
I turned to him, glaring, “Where are you taking Jude?”
He shrugged, “Somewhere where the atmosphere is much more holy for him.”
My mouth gaped and I hissed, “I have him the best damn life he would’ve gotten.”
Creeves suddenly flipped to grab me, hard enough to make new bruises blossom, “Tell me whore, did you make love to him? Did you enjoy it?”
I shook my head, “No,” I lied, “I didn’t sleep with him.”
Creeves rolled his eyes and threw me back into my seat before pulling out a meth pipe and began taking a few stokes. Surprisingly, I had some courage hidden up my sleeve, “I can’t wait for you to OD on that shit.”
He stared at me for a bit then clicked his tongue with disappointment, “Look what that horrid man has done to you. You’re soo disobedient now.”
“I’ve just learned how life can be nice actually.”
“You are such a spoiled brat,” He spat, “No matter. Here’s the airport.”
I was expecting quite a beating once we returned home, but there were magically no punches thrown. He merely looked at me and said, “You will be watched closely by me from now on.”
I looked up at him with eyes full of hate, “Can I at least go visit Chase?”
Creeves contemplated a bit before sighing, “Very well, but come straight home. I have people watching Patrick’s home in case you happen to appear there.”
“Fine,” I began up the stairs then walked into the empty room, the one meant for a kid. I had wanted one for as long as I knew the birds and bees. Yet once Creeves got hooked on fifty different drugs those dreams of mine were crushed. Heck, eve when he was sober he had no plans on reproducing.
So the fact that Jude was gone tore me up inside. I sulked off to the closet and pulled out my sleeping bag and laid it out in the empty room. Then, fully dressed, I laid down and cried.
* * *
The next morning Creeves was in a very bad mood, “That fucker ripped me off. I paid $500 for 7 pounds of ice and I’m not getting it.”
There was still some courage somehow in me, “What a shame,” I sarcastically murmured.
I shrugged, “I said ‘what a shame’.”
Creeves was suddenly on me, slamming me into a wall, “Bree, Bree, Bree,” he was putting pressure on my barely healed arm. I gasped by tried to ignore the pain, “You break it again and I’ll call the cops,” I hissed through gritted teeth. He laughed, “Are you kidding? I own this town. I’ve bought and sold drugs, I’ve killed two people, and nothing’s ever happened to me.”
He paused his rant to look at his watch, all body weight still pressed on me, “I got to go to work now. Don’t you dare leave this house.”
He knocked me over and stormed out the door; time for me to take action. I walked upstairs and found my old sunglasses and ugly sunhat and took great care in making sure all strands of blonde were tucked into it.
Instead of calling a taxi, I grabbed Creeves’ bike. After all, how was I supposed to know if the taxi drive worked for him? The cemetery wasn’t too far a distance away anyway. So I put on my sunglasses and began pedaling.
When I pulled up I saw other people mourning the dead, but none that would’ve known Chase. I walked further in and was walking around a tree, only to run back behind it and yelp. On the other side was Chase’s grave. Standing before it was Pat.
So I quickly whipped up a decent lie and cleared my throat in preparation for my British accent, “It’s a right shame for him to go like this,” I solemnly said. Pat slowly turned his head, my heart feeling pain when I noticed his red-rimmed eyes, “Yes. How did you know him?” He asked.
“I dated the fellow for a bit. What a real charmer he was.”
Pat laughed, “That’s putting it lightly. What’s your name?”
“Julianne,” I quickly picked.
“Well Julianne,” Pat gave a half-hearted smile, “I believe next time you should get your facts straight.”
“Whatever do you mean?” My accent faltered and Pat’s smile turned to a smirk, “Chase was never in Britain nor did he date a Julianne.”
Pat walked right in front of me and removed my sunglasses, “Yes Bree.”
He knew, “Dammit. How long did you know?”
“Since I heard you yelp. You sound exactly the same as thirteen years ago,” I looked down at my feet in embarrassment, “I’m glad you cane though. Creeves let you?”
My smile from Pat’s first statement faded away with the second, “Well…not quite.”
“Oh,” Pat looked away, “Well it looks like he didn’t beat you so badly.”
“From what you can see,” I murmured. That was when something confused me, “Wait, how’d you get home?”
“I was on the same plane as you, only Creeves somehow affords first class.”
“Dealing drugs,” I shrugged, “You were close to Chase I recall.”
Pat’s eyes saddened with these words, “He was the closest friends I had. I can’t believe Creeves killed him to get information.”
I laughed cynically, “Then you don’t know Creeves. He has no problem with killing anything or anyone.”
I saw tears growing in Pat’s eyes and I realized I hit a spot that’s still too soft, “Look,” My voice softened, “It has nothing to do with Chase. It just has to do with Creeves being the way he is: a killer psychopathic druggie.”
Pat suddenly took hold of me and my back was against the tree, making this the second time today I’ve been slammed into stuff. But this was different.
While Creeves seemed like death cornering me when he slammed me, Pat seemed much more of a beautiful cocoon to keep me safe from the death getting me. Plus, Pat slamming me into a tree was a bit of…a turn-on, “That’s what I’m trying to do. I want to keep you safe of him forever. But it seems that right when everything seems perfect he comes and ruins everything and I have to start from scratch again.”
I felt rain beginning to patter on my head as Pat and I just stared at each other in silence. I could hear the other mourners sprinting to their cars to drive out of the downpour yet Pat and I remained under the tree.
I was the first to move by removing my hat and tossing it to the ground, “Can we do something perfect?” I asked. He seemed to not understand at first, so I grabbed his arms and pulled him closer to me, “Let’s be perfect.”
And then I let our lips meet, finally completing us again and making us perfect.”
Unfortunately, I couldn’t stick around, “I have to get home before Creeves does,” I whispered. These words made Pat groan, “Can’t you come home with me?”
“No. Creeves has people watching your door. Good-bye,”
Our hands were still together as I tried to pull away, “Please Pat. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too,” and Pat let me go sprinting to me bike, wishing desperately that I could stay with him.
* * *
The weeks that passed were depressing. I was basically locked inside my house where the only enjoyment I had was writing music on piano. The worst was how they were all so painful, making me cry on the keys every time I played.
I couldn’t call Pat on my cell or home phone since they’re both being monitored. So all I had was Creeves, and he forced me to treat as if I loved him, me crazily hoping he’d let me call Pat once.
Then to make matters worse I got sick one morning, a bad feeling crawling up my chest and through my veins. I pulled out the pregnancy test, just to check and be safe.
The plus appeared and with it I punched the bathroom counter and swore up a storm. Could I not notice that I missed three periods?? Could Creeves be high enough to not notice the already slightly bulging belly that I just regarded as me getting fat?
But there was one thing I knew: this baby certainly wasn’t Creeves’ baby. I imagine what a little baby of Pat’s would look like and I smiled.
Creeves wasn’t stopping me this time. I was going to have this baby, even if I have to wear clothes three times my size to hide it.
I threw away the test, burying it under other garbage in case Creeves looked inside.
Now to somehow tell Pat.
I snuck out of the house and began simply walking, searching desperately for a pay phone.
There was one in the park and I dialed, “Hello?” Thank God Pat answered, “Patrick,”
“Bree! Oh it’s amazing to hear your voice again. You sound upset though. Did he hit you at all?”
“Not yet. Look Pat I’m-“
The sound of a robotic voice came, “Please insert more quarters.”
“God dammit, stupid pay phone,” I put in more change and Pat answered again, “Sorry Pat I’m on a pay phone.”
“Creeves guarding all the phones?”
“Yes, look I need to tell you before this thing needs more change,” Something blocked my throat then and I couldn’t speak. How would Pat react to the news? Happy? Sad? Pissed off?
“Pat I’m pregnant.”
“Please insert more quarters,” I was thankful for the phone dying this time.
* * *
It had been about three months since Creeves dragged me back to South Carolina. So did that mean I’ve been pregnant this entire time?
Creeves didn’t have any knowledge of my condition when he first returned home, but I wasn’t taking any chances. As he ate dinner and smoked a toke I began carrying the bathroom’s trash out, hoping he wouldn’t notice me.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
His voice, however slurred, made me jump with fear, “I…I am trying to help by taking the trash out.”
“Hold it Bree. Let me take a look through that,” He stood up, stumbling a bit and tore the can from me and began searching through the old garbage. I had the test wrapped in tissue, so he shouldn’t find it.
The test slipped out from the tissue paper.
He found it.
Creeves eyed the stick with the positive reading still on it. His face seemed to turn assorted colors as he looked at me, “You’re pregnant?” He gritted.
“Well…you know those things aren’t always correct. I…I just missed my cycle and I…I wanted to be safe,” I stuttered.
“Safe?” He threw me against the wall again, arm against my neck, “We haven’t had sex for months whore! So tell me, whose is it?”
I gargled, trying to show him I couldn’t speak. He learned this and removed his arm from my neck, “Well bitch?”
I looked him dead in the eye, daring him to do something, “It’s Patrick LeBlanc’s.”
I didn’t even get to finish his name before Creeves slammed my back into the wall again, “You slutty lying bitch! You told me you two did nothing. Ha! I shouldn’t have believed that for a second!” Spittle was landing on my face from him, “I honestly don’t know why I try and put up with you anymore.”
This was when the punching ensued. Creeves fists seemed focused on one spot though: my belly. I began sobbing not in pain, but the fact of what Creeves intentions were: to kill my baby, “No, no, no!” I moaned, but it was no use and the carnage continued.
It might’ve been about a half hour before Creeves punched for the last time before taking his meth with him upstairs. The at about midnight I found myself sitting in the bathroom crying in silence with blood staining the white tile, the horrid evidence that Creeves had in fact killed my unborn child.