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There’s only one car outside, and it likely belongs to the singular employee who works there.
Fine. It’ll have to be good enough for now.
For a brief moment, I already feel as though I’ve defeated Luka, like I’ve outsmarted him at his own shitty game.
I pick up speed and race towards the door when I hear an SUV accelerating behind me. My mind blanks, and before I’m even able to turn and look, I know already that it’s Luka.
I’d expect him to be angry, to pull the SUV up behind me, screaming to get inside. Maybe he’d be holding a gun to my head.
Somehow, I’d prefer either of those choices to what I’ve been presented with.
Luka pulls the car up next to me slowly, rolling down the window and looking straight at me with a completely neutral expression.
“It would be within your best interests to get into this car,” he says, his voice cold and emotionless.
I consider springing the rest of the way to the gas station and hedging my bets that the attendant would see this interaction and do something about it.
But I’d never make it to the door. A small woman has no chance against a three-ton SUV.
Luka’s gaze grows more intense the longer I keep him waiting. “We still have to complete your pregnancy screening,” he continues, as though this is something he does every day.
God, it probably is.
His casual behavior amidst my attempted escape is bone-chilling. If he were angry, screaming, and pointing a gun at my head, I would at least have the impression that he knows he’s losing his power. The way he’s been able to maintain a stoic and indifferent demeanor shows me that he still believes he is absolutely in control here, and it’s just a matter of time before I find out how.
The side door of the SUV opens, revealing the doctor and the assistant who had brought me up from the basement. They are both similarly unbothered, though the assistant does express a bit of annoyance.
With everything considered, I brace myself to climb into the SUV. I take one last glance toward the gas station, knowing that I would likely regret this decision for the rest of my life.
* * *
When we arrive backat the estate, the water bottle I’d downed in a panic forty-five minutes ago has finally made its way through my system. I have no excuses this time, no reason as to why I can’t take the test.
This time, the doctor brings me over to a bathroom without any windows or vents inside. I’m still too sore from my fall to even consider trying to escape again. Where would I go? I’ll probably be in even more pain in the morning.
I begrudgingly take the cup from the doctor, who says nothing. I pee in the cup, disgusted by the warmth of it in my hand as I place it on the sink.
When I open the pregnancy test box, the instructions for the test fall out, and I laugh at the irony of how many women have probably taken one of these today, hopeful that they’d be pregnant and crushed when they are not.
The box says to wait for five minutes, and within the five minutes, I’m able to come up with a complete nightmare scenario in which I am actually pregnant with Akim’s baby when I’m waiting to be sold as a human plaything to bored rich men.
What would a life with a child even look like for someone like Akim? I wouldn’t let him get away from the responsibility. I know he has enough money to support a baby and me three times over without a second thought.
I don’t even like the idea that he’d be a bad parent, but how can somebody who deals in violence be a good parent otherwise? That kind of thing is ingrained. You can’t just switch it off from one moment to the next.
Then, I glance back at the test.
Two lines.
I’m pregnant.
How could I have been so reckless? I’ve always been careful about sex, and despite their flaws, my parents were always very open and educational about staying safe. I have no excuse for how irresponsible I’ve been, but it doesn’t matter now.
I’m pregnant, and I might have to carry this pregnancy while in captivity.
It’s not that I never thought I would want to have a baby, but this is definitely not how I pictured my first pregnancy. I was always a little jealous whenever I’d see women I went to high school with posting adorable maternity photoshoots with their husbands while I felt like I knew that Elliot would want as little to do with a baby as possible.
I didn’t really talk to him about whether or not he would ever want a baby. It was more or less something that I dreamed up in my head a lot, which kept the whole scenario feeling safe and within my control. I knew better than to try and actively get pregnant while I was with Elliot because I would constantly have dreams where I was pregnant, and I would panic.
