The Runaway

Chapter 11.

Sawyer

8 and a half months pregnant.

To say my family is overwhelming is an understatement. I can't find a single moment to breathe, no matter how hard I try. My room? interrupted by my brothers, the living room? my Papà, anywhere else? guards, house caretakers and goddamn chefs.

I just need one single moment of peace, that is all i'm fucking asking for and to make things worse, my pregnancy has come to the term where I am uncomfortable 24/7.

I carefully sit down on the toilet for the millionth time today and curse this little boy growing inside me for pressing on my bladder as much as he is. "Sawyer!" I hear someone yell for me, again.

I groan and quickly finish what i'm doing before heading back to my room.

It took a couple weeks but they eventually warmed up to the idea that I wasn't leaving again but in reality as soon as I get the chance, I am out of here. But they don't need to know that, all they need to see and hear is the dutiful, little princess they think they raised.

"yes?" I ask as I enter the room. My Papà smiles at me from my bed and softly ushers me forward with a movement of his hand. I head over to him and he pulls me down onto the bed beside him, "your mother would like to see you and I think its about time." he kisses my forehead.

"okay" I whisper trying not to sound too enthusiastic and more nervous about the topic.

"lets go." he whispers and leads me to their bedroom and my hands shake as I open and head in.

"mama?" I call out and the next thing I know a body softly collides with mine. Soft hands cup my cheeks an my mother cries as she holds me in her arms. "hi mommy" I cry alongside her and let my body fall into her while she strokes my hair. Only in this moment, I finally realize that this whole time the only thing I truly longed for in this household was her.

"oh honey," she caresses my hair. "my baby." she kisses my forehead and that only sends me into a spiral of more emotions.

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For the next couple of weeks I spend as much time as I can with my mama. Papà finally let us spend time outside of the room together and by doing so we've come up with ways to defy them in every way possible. We cook, watch tv, gossip and she even tells me all about motherhood, what she specifically went through with my brothers and I.

"so what did Papà end up doing?" I ask as she finishes explaining a story about Luca locking my brothers and I in a closet as a way of 'babysitting.'

"oh you know," she laughs, "the old 'im disappointed' conversation, the taking away of electronics and giving chores. He and I always agreed hitting was never allowed, especially since your Papà grew up in such a household, he didn't want to bestow that on you guys."

"wait.... Mama, Papà was hit?" tears spring to my eyes, I can't help it, maybe there are a few reasons he is the way he is.

"oh honey." she brings me into her arms and rubs a gentle hand against my back. "your Papà went through many things as a young child that no one should go through, its no excuse for his actions and he's okay now, but we need to lead him a bit further down the correct path, yes?"

I nod against her and think of ways where everyone can be happy. Because that's all I've ever wanted and I'm sure it's all they have ever wanted as well.