Chapter 4 #4
Neon lights and flashing holograms blared down at her, advertising products, drugs, sex, and food.
Her stomach growled for the latter. When was the last time she’d eaten?
With no small amount of guilt, she realized it had been on her way to work hours ago.
She’d been so focused on handing out those stupid flyers so she wouldn’t get reamed by Yorgaz that she’d skipped her lunch break.
She rubbed her belly in apology. “Sorry, Baby.”
And now she had a murderous azhera to worry about. She’d honestly thought she’d never see him again. What were the odds of it in a city of billions?
“Apparently pretty fucking good,” she grumbled.
Though it was late, and her body was screaming for rest, the savory smell of food lured her toward a food stall.
She ordered a noodle-like entrée filled with unknown vegetables.
She knew for sure the ‘noodles’ were totally unrelated to human pasta, but she hadn’t allowed herself to ask what any of the food in Arthos actually was.
She had a sense that knowing the answer to that question would make her never want to eat again.
Best to remain oblivious when it came to alien food.
Besides, she thought as she slurped a ‘noodle’ into her mouth and found a place to sit, it tastes good.
After she’d finished eating and had won the arduous battle of standing back up, she resumed her slow trek back to her apartment. Her feet objected to every step, and she was occasionally struck by sharp pains in her groin. She couldn’t lie to herself—those pains scared the hell out of her.
Her life on Earth had always been almost nomadic, moving from one score to the next, sprinkled with quickies here and there with her then-boyfriend, not realizing the jerk had been two-timing her—or more like five-timing her—for their entire relationship.
She’d been so busy during all that, her thoughts so occupied, that she’d forgotten that she’d been overdue for another contraceptive implant.
By the time she’d realized her mistake, it had been too late.
She’d already been nearly three months pregnant—which she’d learned from the one doctor she’d been able to see, a shady bastard who didn’t ask questions about why his patients didn’t want to use IDs and paid only in cold, hard cash.
A month later, she was kidnapped by alien pirates and promptly sold to Murgen.
She hadn’t received any prenatal care after that diagnosis…
Not that she would’ve gone back to that doctor, anyway.
Now, Shay was alone on an alien world with no one to turn to. She couldn’t afford any help because she knew the credits she’d taken from the azhera wouldn’t last long—not at the rate the scumbags in this city were sucking her dry. But she was doing the best she could.
“But I got you,” she whispered, settling a hand on her stomach, and was flooded with relief when she felt an answering kick against her palm.
It took Shay an hour and a half after her meal to reach her apartment building.
An hour and a half of pain, discouragement, and constantly looking over her shoulder and expecting the azhera to be breathing down the back her neck at any moment.
She was exhausted to the very marrow of her bones when she reached the entry doors.
She opened her jacket and swept back one side, exposing the blaster at her hip to settle her hand on it.
I didn’t let Murgen beat me, didn’t let the azhera beat me, and I’m sure as hell not letting this city beat me.
Walking with a prominent limp, she entered the rundown building and headed toward the elevator.
She pressed the call button and waited. The doors opened a few minutes later and Shay stood back as a group of aliens stepped out, crowding the hallway, their voices raised in conversation.
There was a burly, pointed-eared borian and an ethereal, elf-like volturian, but most of them were cren, tall and leanly muscled with long pointed ears, brightly colored skin and hair, and tusks protruding up from their bottom lips.
They ignored her—or outright didn’t see her—as they pushed and shoved one another, two of them arguing over what Shay gleaned was a drug one had claimed the rights to.
Without waiting, she entered the elevator.
The doors closed with a grinding, metal on metal sound, and the lift creaked and screeched during its ascent to her floor, its lights flickering gloomily like she was in a horror movie.
Every time she rode this elevator, she was half-convinced it would be the last thing she did.
Thankfully, her floor was only the second one up, so she didn’t have far to drop if the lift failed.
Exiting the elevator, she moved down the hall toward her room.
The odor hanging in the air was an alien mix of bodily fluids, mildew, and unidentifiable smells that triggered her nausea.
There were holes and cracks in the walls and stains on the garbage-strewn floor.
Sounds carried easily through the thin walls—voices raised in anger or passion, thumping music, people banging on doors, and alien TV shows with the volume turned up way too damned loud.
It was a dump. But it was also the only place she’d been able to find that didn’t require an ID chip and wouldn’t break her budget.
When she reached her apartment, she shoved her hand into her pocket, pulled out her dinged-up keycard, and waved it in front of the reader on the doorframe. The door whooshed open.
Once she was inside and the door was closed and locked behind her, Shay stumbled toward her pallet and all but fell upon it, unsure of whether she’d be able to get back up.
She certainly had no plans to get up any time soon.
Her every muscle burned with exertion, and for the first time in a long time, Shay felt incredibly weak, both mentally and physically drained.
Peeling off her jacket, she laid it beside her. Her shirt was damp with sweat. Next came her boots and socks, which she struggled with. She hissed through her teeth once her feet were freed.
“Fuck,” she said, tugging up the hems of her pants.
Her feet and ankles had swelled so much that there was no longer any distinction between them—she’d gone full cankle.
Harsh red lines marred her flesh, indentations from her socks and boots, and she had a few spots where it looked like blisters were forming.
For a moment, Shay could do nothing but stare at her feet. Pain pulsed through them like they had their own heartbeat.
“What am I doing, Baby? How are we going to survive?” The words slipped out without thought, but they were true.
How could I think I could do this on my own?
Anger, frustration, and helplessness swelled within her and tightened her throat, making her fight for every breath.
What would Dad think if he saw me now?
Something tickled her cheek, and Shay brushed it away with her fingers. She was startled when she realized what it was—tears. She was crying. When was the last time she’d cried?
Six years ago, when my mother—
Another tear fell, followed by another, and another; once they’d begun, they wouldn’t stop. Shay bowed her head in defeat as she cried, taking in shuddering breaths between her sobs.
“What I am going to do?” she asked, voice thick with emotion. “I can barely take care of myself. How I am going to take care of you, too? How am I g-going to give you everything you deserve? Because you sure as hell don’t deserve this.”
Tears dripped from her chin, but she ignored them as she cradled her belly.
After her father’s death, Shay had decided that she could take care of herself, that she didn’t need anyone.
Not even her mother. It had been a lie, and it was a lie she carried with her for years.
She had done all right for a long while—not that most of what she’d done to get by had been particularly good.
But right now… Right now, she felt like she really needed someone.
She felt…so alone. She was scared—scared for herself and for her baby, and she knew she couldn’t keep living like this.
She had more than herself to worry about now. There was a life growing inside her.
What if something happens to me?
The thought wrenched a fresh sob from her and made her cry harder.
If something happens to me…what would become of my baby?
“I’ll figure something out,” she said, stroking the side of her stomach as she sniffled. “I swear, I promise you, I’ll make things better for you.”
If only she knew how.