Chapter 5 Chapter 05: Desperate Escape

MARTHA’S POV

I swallowed hard, my throat raw from heaving. Nicholas. The lie had slipped out in panic, but now it hung between us like a noose. I knew what came next. My uncle never cared about my pain. He only cared about unloading me like unwanted baggage.

“It’s Nicholas,” I whispered, voice cracking. “But please, Uncle George, don’t call him. He hits me. He hurts me bad. He almost killed me more than once.”

George snorted and crossed his arms, his thin graying hair slicked back as always. “Hits you? Then maybe you deserved it for being so damn weak. You made your bed with that boy. Now lie in it.”

Claire hovered behind him, her salt-and-pepper bob swaying as she twisted her apron in her hands. She glanced at me with those warm gray eyes that usually offered scraps of kindness, but today they stayed distant. Lily leaned against the doorframe, her long blonde hair perfectly styled, scrolling on her phone like my world wasn’t crumbling.

“Please,” I begged, pushing myself up on trembling legs. My wavy light brown hair stuck to my sweaty neck. “He will drag me back. He will beat me worse when he finds out the timing doesn’t add up. I left him months ago. I can’t go back there.”

George ignored me and pulled out his phone, his fingers jabbing the screen with angry taps. “Nicholas always seemed decent enough. Family man. He’ll take responsibility and get you out of my house.”

“No!” I lunged forward and grabbed his arm, my nails digging into his sleeve. “I’m begging you. He’s dangerous. He’ll kill me and this baby someday.”

My uncle shook me off like I was dirt on his shoe. “You’re costing me money every day you stay here, eating my food, using my water. Nicholas can handle his own mess.”

Claire finally spoke, her voice steady but cold. “Nicholas’ your husband and the father of your child. He should know that you’re carrying his child… maybe he will change.”

Lily smirked from the doorway, her brown eyes sparkling with bored amusement. “Yeah, cuz. Stop being so dramatic. Just go back to your husband already.”

The words sliced deep. I stood there, chest heaving, while George lifted the phone to his ear. It rang once, twice, and then Nicholas’s voice came through, muffled but unmistakable, that familiar greasy drawl that turned my blood to ice.

“Mr. Whitmore? Yeah, it’s me… She’s there with you? Pregnant? Hell yeah, I’ll come get her right now. Text me the address. I’ll be there in under an hour.”

George hung up with a satisfied grunt. “He’s on his way. Pack your shit. You’re his problem now.”

Panic exploded in my chest like a storm breaking. Nicholas would arrive soon, and when he did, he would see the lie in my eyes. He would know the baby couldn’t be his. Then the fists would come, harder than before. I couldn’t let that happen. Not to me. Not to this innocent life growing inside me.

I backed away slowly, my bare feet slipping on the tile. “You’re making a mistake,” I said, voice rising with desperation. “He’s not the man you think he is.”

George waved me off and headed downstairs, already muttering about getting back to his news. Claire followed him without another word, and Lily disappeared into her room with a dramatic sigh, slamming the door behind her.

I had minutes. Maybe less.

Rain hammered against the windows now, a sudden downpour that turned the Seattle evening into a gray blur. I didn’t grab much. Just my old backpack from the corner, the same one I had fled with weeks ago. I stuffed in a spare sweater, my wallet with its last few crumpled bills, and the phone Claire had lent me. My heart slammed against my ribs as I crept down the back stairs, avoiding the creaky spots I knew by heart.

The back door groaned when I eased it open. Cold rain slapped my face immediately, soaking my messy shoulder-length waves and thin shirt in seconds. I didn’t care. I ran.

My sneakers pounded the wet pavement, splashing through puddles that soaked my socks. Streetlights blurred through the sheets of rain as I sprinted toward the nearest bus stop two blocks away. My lungs burned. My pregnant body protested with sharp twinges low in my belly, but I pushed harder, fear driving every step.

By the time I reached the shelter, I was drenched, shivering, hair plastered to my face. No phone in my pocket. I had left mine behind in panic. A woman huddled under the awning with an umbrella glanced at me, her eyes widening at my soaked, desperate state.

“Please,” I gasped, water dripping from my chin. “Can I borrow your phone? Just one call. It’s an emergency.”

She hesitated, then handed it over with a sympathetic nod. My fingers trembled so badly I almost dropped it. I dialed the only number I remembered by heart—Rachel’s. My college roommate from those rough years after my parents died. She had always been the steady one, the barista with a sharp tongue and an even sharper loyalty. We had stayed in loose touch through texts, but she was the closest thing I had to safety now.

The line rang. Once. Twice.

“Rachel? It’s Martha. I’m in trouble. Big trouble.”

Her voice came through clear and concerned. “Martha? You sound awful. What happened?”

Tears mixed with the rain on my cheeks. “My uncle found out I’m pregnant. He called Nicholas. My ex is coming to drag me back right now. I ran. I’m at the bus stop near his house, soaking wet, and I have nowhere else to go. Please… can I crash with you? Just for tonight. I’ll figure the rest out later.”

Rachel didn’t hesitate. “Stay right there. Don’t move. I’m leaving work now. I’ll pick you up in fifteen minutes. Text me the exact spot if you can.”

I handed the phone back to the woman with a mumbled thanks and slumped onto the cold metal bench. Rain continued to pour, drumming on the shelter roof like angry fingers. Every passing car made my stomach clench. What if Nicholas drove by first? What if he spotted me here, small and broken under the streetlight?

Minutes dragged like hours. My teeth chattered. My hands cradled my still-flat stomach protectively, as if I could shield the tiny life inside from the mess I had created. Guilt twisted inside me alongside the fear. That stranger from the club—those piercing blue eyes, the way he had carried me so easily. I didn’t even know his name. How could I drag a man like that into my disaster? He would think I was trying to trap him with a baby after one reckless night. No. I couldn’t face him. Not ever.

Headlights cut through the rain. A small blue hatchback pulled up, wipers slashing furiously. Rachel leaned over and pushed the passenger door open.

“Get in, quick!”

I scrambled inside, dripping all over her seats. The warmth of the heater hit me like a hug I didn’t deserve. Rachel took one look at my soaked clothes and tear-streaked face, then pulled away from the curb without another word.

We drove in silence for a few blocks, the rain blurring the city lights into streaks of neon. Finally she glanced over, her dark curls bouncing as she shook her head.

“Start talking, Martha. From the beginning.

I leaned my head against the cool window, watching droplets race down the glass. “I left Nicholas because he beat me so bad I lost our baby. Then I ran here to have a break. On my first night I went to pick up Lily from some club and ended up in the wrong kind of place. I got carried away and drank too much with a man I’d just met. Rachel it was just a one time thing. All I remember is his blue eyes and his super fancy car.”

Rachel’s grip tightened on the wheel. “So now you’re pregnant with this stranger's child?”

“Yes.” My voice broke. “But I lied to my uncle that the baby belongs to Nicholas. And now he wants to send me back to Nicholas.”

Rachel muttered a curse under her breath and turned onto a quieter street lined with modest apartments. “Your uncle’s always been a piece of work. But don’t worry, I’ve got you girl, you can stay with me as long as.”

Relief flooded through me so strongly my shoulders sagged. We pulled up to her building, a weathered brick place with flickering hallway lights. Inside her cramped one-bedroom, Rachel tossed me a towel and dry clothes—soft sweatpants and an oversized tee that smelled like laundry detergent and safety.

I changed in the tiny bathroom, then collapsed onto the couch while she made hot tea. Steam rose from the mug as she handed it over and sat across from me, her face serious but kind.

“So what do you plan on doing now?” Rachel asked. “Do you plan on finding the father? Do you want to keep it? If you do keep it, do you have what it takes to raise a child?”

I wrapped my cold hands around the warm mug, staring into the liquid. “I have no idea what I’m supposed to do right now, Rachel. The only thing I have that belongs to him is his business card. He’d snuck it in my jacket that night, but I’ve not summoned the courage to call him. How would he feel to learn that a random stranger is pregnant with his child? He might call me a gold digger.”

Rachel leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “Martha, are you keeping the baby?”

I nodded slowly, fresh tears spilling over. “I have to, Rachel.”