Prompt: Answer "What?" or "Why?" in your narritave (I think that's what this prompt was, but it was a few weeks ago and I didn't write it down so I really don't have any idea X( )
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Snowflakes the size of marbles fell from the dark sky in a mass so large it was almost unbelieveable. It twinkled in the steet lights and swirled its way down to the ground where it formed into huge heaps. The wind blew the snow against my face and stung exceptionally more where the tears had once been.
I wiped a new tear onto my almost-frozen sleve and wrapped my thick wool coat around my bulging stomach. Mary's Woman's Shelter, Mary's Woman's Shelter, I told myself diligently as I stared into the snow-covered street that was illuminated by streetlamps and headlights, You'll get there, you'll both be all right.
I looked down at my large stomach, and wrapped my arms around it protectively. Jordan needed to be woarm more than I did. At this young age, the intensity of the cold could permanently cripple him/her.
I whipped my head around at the sound of wheezing and footsteps being swollowed by the snow. A heavily bundeled man in his late 40s, early 50s, wa strekking his ay to the bus stop beside me. He gave a hearty cough as he finally came to halt beside me, and I edged myself away from him.
"Quite the blizzard out here, eh?" he commented
"Y-yeah," I replied quietly, my voice shaking with sadness
He turned to look at me, at first to ask why I seemed so miserable. He opened his mouth to speak, but when his eyes were drawn to my large stomach, he closed it and looked away from me with a scowl.
Another tear did not escape from my eye, another surge of sadness did not meet me. Ever since the bulge became noticable I had gotten that treatment from everyone. My parents no longer treated me as their daughter, but as a particullarly unpleasent roommate who couldn't do anything for themself. Teaches wouldn't look me in the eyes, even if they were offering advice. At supermarkets, mothers would glare at me and whisper into their daughter's ears about what a bad influence I was. A few of my friends stuck with me through it all, but most dubbed me as a whore and told me I deserved it. I no longer cared about any of it anymore, the only thing that now mattered to me in the world was Jordan.
Blinding headlights bore into my eyes and brought me back to the cold, dark street. The bus skidded to a halt before the man and I, who avoided common curtosy and scrambled onto the bus first. Inside, the bus smelled of dirt and feet, but warmed me up just fine.
"Applewood and Main?" The tired-looking bus driver asked the two of us
"Yes, if it stops by Mary's Shelter."
The driver looked once at my stomach before nodding and closing the bus doors.
Walking down the aisle, some people glanced at me, others did double-takes, but most didn't even look up at all. A particularly rude old couple whipsered loudly about how this generation can never keep their legs shut. Ignoring it all, I sat down behind the old couple and stared out the bus window.
I was finally getting away. Away from the hate and disgust, and to care and support. maybe there would be other teen refugees like me at Mary's. Thinking longlingly of the room I booked at Mary's, I leaned back in my seat and hugged Jordan. It would be a new beginning, for both of us.
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Ta daaa~~! Another story written in 40 minutes 0.o. I kinda like this one. And if you do too, vote, tell me how amazing it was (or unamazing, but that would make me sad), and fan me if you want to be extra cool. :)
