Page 3 of Save You
He wastes no time in slipping his cold hands up and under my shirt, apologizing when I emit a small gasp over the shock of his icy fingers. However, he soon pushes my whole shirt up when he obviously feels something there and has to take a closer look. The small bump is noticeable, even if I have been trying to ignore it. For a few weeks now, I’ve been pretending that it’s merely down to eating one too many packets of Cheetos or Dairy Milk bars.
When his eyes dart up to mine, he tells me all I need to know without letting a single word escape from his lips. It’s enough to make me look away and swallow back the large lump sitting inside of my throat. He continues to prod around my abdomen before grabbing a tape measure out of his bag, all the while explaining that he needs to measure how high my uterus is. As his words filter through my ears, my body shudders under the realization that I now have a new monumental fuck up to add to my never-ending list of harsh realities.
“I would say you’re already three months, Beth,” he almost apologizes to me, “maybe even four.” I gasp out a cry as he pulls my shirt back into place. “Have you done a test?”
I shake my head, prompting him to grab a sample pot for me to go and fill up in the bathroom, informing me it might be best to double-check.
As I pee awkwardly into the most impractical pot ever made for such a task, I use my other hand to hold onto the bump that is my belly. It is more than likely housing something that is part me and part Xander; a living thing that we made together before I was forced away from him. If so, Oliver is most likely going to kill me and our unborn child, and probably in the most vengeful and painful way possible. My head goes dizzy over the thought and I have to breathe out a few times before I can stomach going back into the bedroom.
Doctor Sawyer takes the pot from my outstretched hand and begins to fumble about with my sample and a dipstick kind of thing before sighing rather audibly. I notice his face has now turned an unhealthy shade of pale.
“Beth, if I’m right, there is no way you can have an abortion without your fiancé finding out.” I cringe over the word,abortion, never once thinking I would have to worry about such a thing. “But when Oliver finds out…” He stops at the same time as placing a chubby hand over his mouth, which is now hanging wide open over such a thought.
“I-I know,” I mutter quietly, “I’m dead.”
Long moments pass before he responds. His silence only confirms my every suspicion over how my betrothed will react.
“Positive,” he murmurs as he stares down at the result for much longer than is warranted. I simply nod, having already come to terms with the outcome long before he gave me that confirmation. Streams of silent tears fall over my cheeks as I look to the floor with nothing but a scrambled mess of thoughts.
“Right!” Doctor Sawyer announces rather suddenly, and forcefully, for his usual personality. “Right! Tell me what to do, Beth. I can tell him all is as it should be, but you need to get away…and fast!”
“I can’t! If I go, they will go after my brother!” I argue angrily. For fuck’s sake, why can’t anyone understand that simply disappearing is not an option, not when an eleven-year-old boy’s fate is at stake?
“And if you stay, they will come after you and your unborn child!” he argues with just as much frustration in his voice. He points toward my stomach with a look that only comes from being a father. “Now tell me who to go to, to make this happen, now!”
“B-Bodhi,” I answer, giving in with sadness because I no longer know if what I’m doing is the right thing anymore. “Bodhi Mason. He lives on the North Beach; you know, where all the supposed ‘stoners’ are. You’ll know who he is when you get there.”
“I know the place,” he says with a touch of confusion behind his eyes but doesn’t question me over it. “Stay put and say nothing!”
“Beth?” A thudding on the door, together with Oliver’s stern voice makes us both jump with shock. “This is taking much longer than I thought it would. Is something wrong?”
“Ok?” the doctor whispers to me. When I nod, he paces over to the door with a confidence he’s never shown before. He appears to brace himself before opening the door to come face to face with Oliver. “Mr Lawrence, so sorry for the inconvenience,” he beams, still with a bravery that I didn’t know he had, “Miss Taylor has a mild urine infection, so I’ve given her some antibiotics. Otherwise, all is as it should be.”
“Let me take care of them, Beth,” Oliver orders as he marches over to me with his hand already held out, waiting for the non-existent tablets. With a little panic, I look over to Doctor Sawyer, who immediately rustles inside of his bag for a small bottle of pills. “I was, of course, going to leave them in your care once we had got downstairs.”
“Thank you,” Oliver smiles half-heartedly, then leans toward him to talk a fraction more quietly, though it’s more than loud enough for me to hear. “This won’t interfere with our wedding night, now will it, Doctor Sawyer?”
The doctor laughs nervously, knowing how terrifying this must be for me to hear, but also knowing that, hopefully, I won’t be here tomorrow night. Oliver can have his own wedding night with his own right hand.
“Goodness me, no!” he chuckles, blushing with a vibrant red glow on his cheeks. “I know how important that is for two people in love. I wish you all the best for tomorrow!” He hands the bottle over, then nods to me as soon as Oliver turns his back on him.
Oliver walks over to me with a salacious grin and a determination in his step that has me sweating down my back. For all I know, he’s about to consummate our fast-approaching nuptials right now. Time may have already run out for me. I take in a deep breath as he rubs his knuckles softly against my cheek, an action that ignites a shudder through my entire body. If he notices my nervous reaction to his touch, he pretends not to; instead, he moves in closer to kiss me. It’s long, slow, and with plenty of tongue action on his part. My heart rate picks up when he grips my backside and causes me to gasp with a slight squeak. Oliver, who appears to enjoy this reaction from me, takes it as a good sign and begins to walk me back toward the bed, where I end up falling with him on top of me.
Nudging my legs open, he sinks between them and presses his arousal against my core, which seems to fold in on itself, as if to say, ‘Not open for business!’ Of course, I don’t think Oliver would take any note of a sign, even if it was physically there to try and block him. His movements across my body are rapid and animalistic, giving away just how much he’s been waiting to do this. His hands move up to the inside of my skirt, grabbing at flesh before he hits the lacey outline of my knickers. He pinches my skin as he clutches hold of the straps at the side, getting ready to pull them down, or apart; what’s the difference? I brace myself, closing my eyes tightly for the impending torture that is about to befall me. This is where it all ends!
Just as he pulls tightly, causing the fabric to burn against my hips, someone from behind us clears their throat loudly and unapologetically. Oliver stops dead on top of me, opening his eyes to look into mine with a mixture of irritation and disappointment.
“Oliver, darling,” purrs an older lady, who looks remarkably like Oliver. She is stood confidently in the doorway and is dressed immaculately in what looks like head-to-toe designer labels. Her silver hair is whipped up into a flawless chignon, and her make-up is pristine. She looks as though an artist has stood before her and applied their very own form of airbrushing.
She studies our rather compromising position on the bed, causing me to blush with shame, even though it was far from my choice to be lodged underneath Oliver’s hard and heavy body. When I look up at Oliver with wide eyes and a slight tremble in my fingers, I find him smiling at me. He then slowly removes himself and stands upright, now facing the woman who is still staring at me lying on the bed. To my utter horror, I see him adjust his erection without an ounce of subtlety, before walking over to the lady and kissing her on the cheek. She manages to pull her staring eyes away from me, then pushes out her cheek with a gushing smile for my fiancé. She looks at him like he hung the moon and the stars all for her. However, within seconds, she is back to gawking at me like I’m the queen’s jewels that have been put on display just for her.
“My word, Oliver, is this her?” she asks, smiling at me in a friendly enough manner.
As I timidly rise to stand before them both, I pull at my school uniform, probably still blushing enough to stop traffic. I cannot help but rub nervously at my arm, for her reaction to me is off-putting. In this house, I have no idea if she is friend or foe.
“She’s exquisite, just like Rosalie was. Of course, I’ve only seen photographs, but…well, it’s amazing!” She claps her hands together before bringing them up to her mouth in what looks like a pleasant surprise.
“Mother, this is Beth,” he says, gesturing to me from where they are both standing. “Beth, this is my mother, Amanda Lawrence.”