Beyond the Family Ties

Part 1

She came out of the public toilet white as a ghost and trembling all over as she tried to suppress her sobs, a bundle cradled against her chest as she hunched her shoulders against the lashing rain. Tucking the baby inside her coat, she splashed through puddles, the dejected sounds of ducks quacking cutting through the sound of the downpour, and she quickly ran to the car she'd parked on the far side of the park, bypassing the lake, the surface roiling as raindrops disturbed it, and she quickly slid into the driver's seat. Wiping her sodden hair out of her face, she did her seat belt up with shaking hands, managing to get the buckle in on the third go, and she cradled the baby in the crook of her arm as she steered out into traffic with one hand.

Carefully merging with the city traffic as she made towards the city centre, she kept casting quick glances down at the baby, a jolt running through her when she caught a glimpse of dark eyes staring back up at her at one point. Her whole body was numb with shock, and she quietly sobbed the whole way back to the house she shared with her mom, her heart pounding in her chest as she shifted uncomfortably in her wet trousers, wondering how she was going to explain it. As the stretch of brownstones came into sight, Becky pulled up outside the three that had been connected to form her home, and all but stumbled out onto the sidewalk, her legs weak beneath her as she rushed up to the door with the bundle in her arms. She couldn't even get the key in the lock, and it took her five minutes of fumbling before she let herself into the warmth of the entryway.

Her shoes squeaked on the polished wooden floor, and she fell back against the door as the heat of the house washed over her, and the baby started to cry. It was the piercing sound of the cries that summoned her mother without a word, and Becky looked up at the appearance of the tall, middle-aged woman at the top of the double staircase, a flicker of surprise crossing her stern face as she rushed down the stairs to greet her daughter. The smell of expensive wood and vanilla washed over Becky, and the empty feeling of the place she called home seemed suddenly less welcoming than usual as her mother bore down on her in a fury.

"Who's baby is that?" she demanded, a look of distaste on her face as she neared her daughter.

"She- she's mine," Becky stammered, her voice cracking as her eyes flooded with tears.

Her mom paused for a moment, looking taken aback by the admission, before her face harden. "What?"

"She's mine."

"No," Lillian firmly said, her eyes flashing with anger, "no. You will not ruin your life like this. Give it to me." At her mother's beckoning, Becky shrank back against the door, clutching the baby tighter to herself in panic. "Becky, give it to me."

"No."

"You are not keeping it," Lillian snarled, taking a threatening step forward. "I will not have this family's reputation tarnished by you. I can't believe you hid this from me. You will give it to me right now ."

"I won't," Becky croaked, stubbornly jutting her chin forward as she met her mom's hard stare.

Lillian spluttered in surprise, her eyebrows rising as she drew back slightly, one hand pressed against her chest as she looked at her daughter with contempt. "You always were a disappointment," she sniffed, "but I never took you for a whore. You've brought ruin to yourself, and I won't let you tarnish our family name with your mistakes any longer. Get out. Get out of this house, and don't come back."

A flicker of anger burned deep inside Becky, and she strode past her mom with stubborn determination, quickly hurrying upstairs as she took the squalling baby with her. Bursting into her bedroom on the third floor, she set the baby down on the bed, watching her flail with her tiny fists stretched out, and she rummaged around beneath her bed for an expensive leather duffel bag. Her mom followed her upstairs, bursting into the room with a cold look of anger on her face, continuing her ranting as Becky grabbed handfuls of clothes from inside her dresser, before making her way towards the armoire and rifling through the more casual clothes she owned, tearing anything of use off the hangers and shoving them into the bag.