Page 21 of Save You
Xander
Trying to stay cool at the moment is my main priority, even though I’m feeling a little hysterical on the inside. Responsibility hangs over my head like a large foreboding weight about to fall if I make one wrong move. But I’m going to do whatever it takes to try and keep Beth safe, especially now that she’s carrying our child.
Jesus, what a fucking wake-up call that was! She had muttered a bunch of stuff when she was out cold, mostly incoherent, but then she started having a full-on conversation with me while she was asleep. She told me she loved me several times, and I laughed at her, but still told her that I loved her too. Then she started telling me she had something important to tell me, something that might make me mad. My initial thoughts were of Oliver and what he might have done to her, so I took advantage of her unconsciousness and probed a little further.
“We’re both so young,” Beth mumbles, “I’ve only ever wanted you…”
Her words have my heart leaping up into my throat as I wait for her to tell me that he has been inside of her, that he had finally forced himself onto her. I fight the urge to push her to the point of waking, of shutting down on me, even when she begins to get visibly upset, with her brow furrowed and her lips trembling. Instead, I brace myself for the horrifying truth, but still begin to rub her knee to try and comfort her and calm her down.
“Shh, baby, it’s ok,” I soothe her as she remains sleeping but still with that worried brow.
“You don’t understand; I didn’t mean to; I was so careful…” She reaches out for me, so I grab her hand, the one that’s desperately trying to find me, and try to reassure her.
“Whatever he did, Beth, we can work through it together!” I kiss her hand, holding it to my lips for a long while. Every now and then, I catch glances of her looking like she’s battling with her own memories of whatever Oliver did to her.
“No, you don’t understand, Xander, you don’t…Xander, you don’t…”
She begins gasping for breath as she pulls her hand away from mine and starts waving it around. In the end, I have no choice or willpower to carry on driving, so I pull over and bring the car to a stop. I then reach for her wrists, trying to still her rapid movements without hurting her.
“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.