Knocked Up by the Killer Read online B.B. Hamel

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: B.B. Hamel Advertisement

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The stairwell was silent for a long moment before I turned and began to climb back up. I had to think about what to do next.

I couldn’t just let Elise run off. I’d have to find her somehow—but I had no clue where she’d go or what she’d do.

Didn’t matter. I still had to try.

17

Elise

I hit the street like a demon.

My mind raced wild and I just ran. I had to get away from Tanner, from my father, from Bennigan, and from all the other assholes that wanted to hurt me.

I did nothing. I hurt nobody. And yet these men wanted to tear me to pieces and I didn’t know why.

I hated them all.

Tears fell down my cheeks. My breath came ragged. I ran toward the Schuylkill.

A homeless man sprawled on a closed barber shop’s stoop looked at me like I was nuts. Drunk kids crawling from bar to bar scattered out of my way. A cop shouted at me from his cruiser.

Flashes of dog walkers, of girls with their boyfriends, of men in suits. Laughter echoed off damp streets. A bus rolled past with its passengers lit up and glowing from its interior lights like a slug filled with parasites.

I kept going, going, going.

And only slowed when the lights of a Rite Aid glowed up ahead.

I stopped running and gasped for breath. I put my hands behind my head and spun in a slow circle.

I didn’t know where I was. But the Rite Aid was there, beckoning to me, bright and welcoming.

“Oh, fuck it,” I said.

I was happy I put on pants and slipped my wallet into my back pocket before leaving. I knew as soon as I heard Tanner’s little offer that I couldn’t stick around.

That bastard. That piece of shit.

I walked into Rite Aid. The air conditioning blasted me in the face. It smelled like carpet cleaner and stale candy. A teenage kid with bad teeth and a buzzed head stood restocking the candy underneath the front register.

I ignored him, went to the back, and found the pregnancy tests.

I stared at them then grabbed one of each. I got a water from the refrigerated section just in case I didn’t have to pee.

I skipped the register and went through the self-checkout.

The boxes jostled in the plastic bag as I left Rite Aid and began to wander.

I didn’t know what to do. The tests stacked on top of each other and I was so afraid to take them that I wanted to puke.

Tanner didn’t know, of course. He had no clue why I was so upset with him. I could tell earlier that he wanted to talk about it and maybe even wanted to try to make me feel better, but there was no way I was about to tell him that I was pregnant with his baby. I just had no clue how he’d react.

Now I knew. I was just property to him. I was a bargaining chip.

I kept walking. My mind turned in circles, in wheels, in loops. A front door slammed. A dog walker barely controlled two big Great Danes. A jogger with a belt full of water bottles trudged past. Cars with their high beams blazing rolled along looking for a parking spot.

The city kept going. It didn’t matter what time it was. It didn’t matter if I had some personal tragedy.

I walked with purpose until I found what I was looking for.

Wawa was still open. Good, reliable, dependable Wawa. I stood outside, drank half the water bottle, then went in. Bright lights and rows of snacks. An older woman with short blonde hair leaned on the front counter. Bored young kids stood near the sandwich kiosks waiting for their food.

I headed to the bathroom, found it locked, went back up front.

“Excuse me, can I use the bathroom?”

The older blonde pointed at a sign. BATHROOM FOR CUSTOMERS ONLY.

I picked up two packs of gum. “Please?” I asked.

She rang me up and gave me a key on a long piece of wood.

“Be quick,” she said.

I hurried to the bathroom, unlocked it, slammed the door shut. I locked it again and sat down on the toilet, not caring about hygiene.

I opened the first test, set it up, and did my business. I opened the second test and set that up without waiting for the first test to finish.

I took a third before the first results were back.

Positive.

I stared at it and felt horror vibrate through my skull.

I looked at the second.

Positive.

“Oh, fuck,” I choked.

The third. Positive.

“Fuck.” I held three positive tests in my hand then shoved them back into the Rite Aid bag. I stood in front of the mirror and stared at myself.

I was pregnant. And the father was a killer, a psycho, and a bastard.

I felt like the floor fell out from beneath me. Like I was tumbling into the heart of the world.


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