Page 56 of StoryTeller's Tale

What could I do but admit the truth and say yes.

Her eyes had narrowed at me. “You said you weren’t raped.”

I nodded as that was the truth and what I had told her when I had gotten home. “I wasn’t.”

“So what the fuck was it then? You gave it away?” Agatha’s hands landed on her hips. “You come back here with stories about how you were held captive and abused. Yet here you are pregnant, yet apparently not forced.”

There was nothing I could say. I hadn’t told anyone the whole story, about the man who rescued me, and definitely not about what I’d been forced to do in front of the other captives and my abductors. I hadn’t come to terms with that myself, so how could I admit it to anyone else?

“It was all made up, wasn’t it?” Agatha’s face darkened. “You went off for a weekend with a man. Maybe it didn’t work out, maybe you got more than you bargained for. Maybe you were even involved in some kinky kidnapping plan, then concocted a story to play on my sympathy when it all went wrong.”

My mouth had dropped open at her accusation. It was so far from the truth. But still I was loathe to give her another explanation.

I might have been staying quiet, but Agatha hadn’t finished. “You can’t get a job. Your condition,” she waved at my stomach, “won’t help with that. I need to get someone else in to help me make rent.”

It took a second to process what she was saying. “You’re kicking me out?”

“You’ve got parents. Go get them to help you.”

Not parents, just a dad and a stepmom who hated me.

I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t blame Agatha for making sure she had someone staying with her who could pay half the rent, and with my dwindling savings, I wouldn’t be able to do that for long. Add in my apparent new circumstance and well, I’m devastated and scared. Now I not only need a job to support myself but also a child.

I think I was in some sort of trance, shock perhaps, since seeing the appearance of those two telltale lines. Instead of thinking it through, I acted like a child and ran to my dad.

I caught him alone, threw myself at him and cried. He’d been stunned, but had hugged me, telling me everything would be alright.

Until my stepmom had returned from her shopping trip. A short conference between them and suddenly my previously pro-life father was telling me I needed to take care of my problem. He’d stuffed some money in my hand and told me to go and not return until I’d rectified matters.

Which is why I’m now at the airport, wondering where I should go. Or rather, I’m sitting outside it, not even knowing where to start.

I discard one tissue in the convenient bin next to my seat and take another from the pack, seeing I’m fast running out. My thoughts are a complete jumble, and I can’t focus on any plan. The one certainty is I can’t go home. Or only after I’ve done what my sperm donor wants.

It’s getting harder and harder to think of him as my father. While my mom was alive, he seemed a good enough sort. Quiet, of necessity as my mother was the backbone of the house. How he’s changed since Mom died and Charmaine entered our lives.

This morning had been such a whirlwind, I’m not sure which way is up. I’m not even sure why I’d driven to the airport except for perhaps I needed some direction once I’d gotten into my car.

I’ve barely had a chance to process I’m pregnant.

Now, with the background noise of planes taking off and landing, I’m taking some time to myself.

I am pregnant, with the baby of a man I’ve only met once in my life, and that was under the most horrific circumstances. A man who I walked away from, because he represented everything that was wrong with the world, even though he’d rocked mine during that short period of time.

He hadn’t made me feel worthless. For those brief hours, it was as if I’d mattered. It’s probably only my imagination, but for once, it was as if someone had seen me.

He’d offered me a chance of escape, a chance to be with him. I’d turned him down as he was the same as the Dominators who’d taken me—an outlaw who surely couldn’t be trusted to keep his word. He’d have used me, then I’d have been discarded once he’d really gotten to know the real boring person I am inside.

I’d been scared to take a chance. He’d been pressuring me to leave with him, and at the time, it was easier to stay with the women to whom I could relate, the ones who’d been captured with me.

My mind goes back to that hour or so after the bikers had gone. We’d hidden, all scared out of our minds. The rumbling of engines hadn’t brought relief as we’d assumed it was Knuckles bringing more Dominators back. It was only when the fire truck had arrived and we saw the flashing lights of the police car, that Carole and I had stood and revealed ourselves.

After that, it was all a blur. The medics soon had us in the hospital where I suffered the ignominy of being prodded, poked and questioned.

The cops had gotten me back to Texas, taking me straight to my parents’ home. My dad had seemed relieved to see me, but my stepmom had berated me about causing them worry and refused to believe anything other than I’d been careless to get myself kidnapped.

“Sheri.”

I might not have heard it for two months, but I still recognise that deep tone, almost a purr as he says my name. Swinging around, I shade my eyes from the glare of the setting sun, unable to believe that it’s not my mind summoning up a fantasy. But unless my sight is deceiving me, StoryTeller is really here.

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