Page 22 of Save You

“What don’t I understand, Beth? What are you trying to tell me?” My voice remains calm and level-headed, even though I can feel myself losing my resolve to keep everything together.

“I’m pregnant!” she all but shouts before seeming to calm herself and fall back to her chair with a more even breath. It’s as though, with her admission finally out of her mind, it can no longer fight her from within.

Me, on the other hand, I can do nothing but stare at her, feeling completely dumbfounded.

“W-what?” I mutter. “You’re-”

“Three or four months pregnant, he said…”

She emits a strange sound, like a groan from the back of her throat, before turning her head away from me, seemingly falling back into a state of sleep that signals our conversation is now over. Meanwhile, I continue to stare at her, lost for words and action. I know in the back of my head I need to keep driving, to keep putting as much distance between us and Lawrence as possible, but I can’t move.

It feels like an unmeasurable amount of time before I take any kind of action, and only then it’s to get out of the car and dry heave at the side of the road. Me? A father?

I remain crouched down, clutching at my head before I force myself back inside of the car. I try to operate at a rational state of mind, but even with a stern talking to myself, I’m not sure I am. Slowly, I switch the engine back on and begin to drive, almost robotically, praying I don’t meet any oncoming traffic because I’m not convinced my reaction time will be quite up to scratch.

Christ, this is what happens to people in the movies or the kid you didn’t really know but had heard of in your year. You feel bad for them, but also secretly relieved that it’s not you having to deal with that level of responsibility at such a young age. This doesn’t happen to people like me, like Beth!

“You won’t leave me, will you?” her tiny voice filters out into the space between us as she suddenly grips hold of my arm. It makes me jump and swerve across the road, though, thankfully, no one else has driven past in hours. I manage to avoid any carnage and instead, right the car with relatively little bother.

“No, baby, I will never leave you,” I reply, swallowing hard and telling myself to get my shit together and to remember how important the girl next to me is. This is Beth, my Beth, and she means everything to me. When I say those words to her, I mean every single one.

Night is beginning to draw in, and we still only have a small pile of highway snacks, hardly befitting for a woman who is expecting, so I leave Beth in the shower and head out to call my uncle. It’s time to make a plan, and he is the only one I trust to do it with. Everyone else is at risk if I so much as dial their number, let alone share any details of our whereabouts. Stephen, however, is a recluse and has several aliases, including the one who owns this cabin. I sense that Uncle Stephen was a little paranoid even before his wife died, but who am I to judge now that his suspicious nature is practically saving our lives.

“Xander,” he answers without any greeting in his voice, going straight to business like he usually would. It means he’s safe. “Talk to me!”

“We’re here, and we’re safe.”

“Good,” he replies with only a hint of relief in his voice, “now you need to try and change your appearances. Get Beth to dye her hair, maybe even cut it shorter. You too, and don’t shave anymore, let your facial hair grow out and get rid of that pretty boy look you wear so well.” I mouth something uncouth to myself while he chuckles low and menacing over his little jibe. “Keep low and out of sight for as long as you can. Only go into town to get essentials and only call me. I’m getting together your new, fake documents as we speak. I’ll send someone to give them to you. They’re reliable and completely unrelated to anyone; I haven’t even told them who you are or what your deal is. Don’t talk to them; just take the stuff they bring and let them leave.”

“Sure thing,” I reply, nodding with unvoiced anxiety and chewing on my thumbnail, all the while knowing I’m going to have to tell him about the baby. I’m more nervous of telling him than I would be of my own parents, even Beth’s parents. But I need to sweep my fear aside and put it out there; Beth’s going to need some kind of healthcare. “There’s one more thing…”

“Shoot!”

“Er…” I laugh nervously, but true to form, he remains eerily quiet, “Beth’s pregnant.”

Silence.

“Is it yours?” he finally asks, sounding completely serious and for that, I feel like throat-punching him down the phone.

“Yes, it’s fucking mine!” I snap while balling my fists over the insinuation, even if he is just trying to look after my interests.

“Calm the fuck down, Xander!” he says with a sigh. “What I meant was, is there any chance it could be Oliver’s? Has he…you know?”

“No!” I snarl because the idea is enough to turn my stomach. “The sick bastard has some weird obsession for breaking her virginity on their wedding night, so she’s been safe…so far.”

“Ok, well, that’s something, I guess.” He remains silent for a while longer, most likely mulling this over, so I choose not to probe him. “Right, Xander, leave it with me. You mustn’t go to any medical centers or hospitals. Lawence will have connections all over the place, especially now that he’s made her disappearance public. But I might know someone who can help you, a nurse by trade, but she has delivered babies before.”

“Really? Thank God!” I sigh and physically slump my body in relief, catching myself against the wooden post which is holding up the porch.

“Get onto those other things I advised you on,” he reminds me, “make a list and get as much as you can in one go. Leave Beth at the cabin, and only you go out. There are three handguns hidden around the cabin; one of them is in the bathroom cabinet.” Christ, guns? “One is in the bedroom, under the bed, and one is in the shed outside, beneath the floorboards. All are fully loaded…you ever used a gun before?”

“No,” I reply breathlessly, my hand now sweeping across my mouth as dizziness threatens to land me on my feet. When the hell would I have needed a gun?

“I’ll call you at six tomorrow evening. Have one ready, and I’ll talk you through it,” he instructs, still without any emotion in his voice, “Xander?”

“Yeah?” My voice sounds muffled, and my head is now hanging low while I try not to be sick.

“Take care of her. Trust me, you can never get her back once she’s gone,” he says with the first crack of concern filtering through his otherwise steely voice, “and take care of yourself. I’m proud of you, Nephew!”

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