Unconventional

Forever

Jennifer stepped into the motel room, the door creaking loudly as it shut behind her. The dim light flickered above, casting a dull yellow hue over the stained carpet and chipped furniture. She set her bags down on the floor, the weight of exhaustion settling into her bones. The place was dingy—far worse than she'd imagined. The walls were yellowed with age, the wallpaper peeling in the corners, and the faint smell of mildew clung to the air. A single bed sat in the middle of the room, its thin blanket crumpled as if it had been slept in a hundred times without ever being washed. There was a tiny table in the corner with one wobbling chair, and the curtains—faded and torn—barely hung onto the window. 

Jennifer sighed, forcing herself to breathe. This was her new reality. She could still feel Emilio's voice in her head, mocking her, telling her she'd never survive on her own. But she'd done it. She'd left. And even though this motel was the furthest thing from home, it was hers for now. It was freedom, even if it came with the price of loneliness and fear.

She walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge, the mattress sinking uncomfortably beneath her weight. She stared at the walls, her eyes tracing the water stains on the ceiling. It was far from the life Emilio had forced on her—far from the sterile perfection of his house and the suffocating control he'd had over her every move. Here, at least, she could breathe. Here, she wasn't under his watchful eye.

But she was scared. She didn't know what came next. She had a little money saved, but it wouldn't last long. The few months of freedom she had were fleeting, and she'd need a job soon—something to support her, and the baby.

The baby.

Her hand instinctively went to her stomach. It was still a strange sensation, the idea that she was carrying a life inside her. She hadn't felt connected to it before, not really. Emilio had made sure of that, treating her pregnancy like it was a tool to control her, not something she could embrace.

But now, in this dingy motel room, with no one telling her what to do or how to be, Jennifer lay back on the bed, her hand still resting on her belly. As she stared up at the cracked ceiling, she felt it—a tiny flutter, a soft, almost imperceptible kick. Her breath hitched, her heart stopping for a moment. The baby. It was moving.

Her hand pressed a little harder against her stomach, waiting. Another kick, this one a little stronger. She let out a shaky breath, her eyes filling with tears—not of sadness this time, but of something else.

For the first time, she felt it. The connection. This was her baby. Her child, not Emilio's weapon. Here, in this grimy room, with all its flaws and imperfections, she could feel a spark of hope. She wasn't just running away from him—she was running toward something. Toward a future where she could be a mother, where she could protect this little life growing inside her from all the darkness she'd left behind.

The kicks continued, steady now, like the baby was reassuring her. You did the right thing. You got us out.

Jennifer wiped the tears from her eyes, smiling for the first time in what felt like forever. She didn't know what tomorrow would bring. She didn't know if she could make it on her own. But tonight, with the baby kicking inside her, she knew one thing for sure.

She had to try.

—————

Jennifer sat on the edge of the bed for what felt like hours, her hand still resting on her stomach, feeling the soft kicks of the baby. The motel room felt even smaller now, the walls closing in as the weight of her decision pressed down on her. She'd left. She had actually left. For the first time in months, she was free of Emilio's grasp. But as the adrenaline faded, the fear crept in.

She glanced at her bag, spotting her phone peeking out from the side pocket. She'd been avoiding it all day, knowing exactly what would be waiting for her. She couldn't run forever. The baby kicked again, a soft reminder that she had to stay strong. But curiosity, mixed with dread, pushed her to reach for the phone.

Her hands trembled as she unlocked it. The notification blinked on the screen: **One new voicemail.** She stared at it for a moment, her thumb hovering over the play button. She knew what it was. Knew it was him. And yet, some part of her needed to hear it, to remind herself why she had run.

She took a deep breath and pressed play.

His voice filled the small room instantly, low and seething with rage. 

"Jennifer!" he growled, his tone already sending chills down her spine. "Where the hell are you? You think you can just leave me? You think you can run? I own you! You're carrying my kid, you're not going anywhere! You better get your ass back here, or you're gonna regret it. Do you hear me?" 

Her stomach twisted as she listened to his words, every syllable dripping with venom. She squeezed her eyes shut, his voice sinking into her bones, reminding her of every moment of control, every belittling insult, every time he made her feel worthless.

Her breath came faster, shallow and ragged.

"I own you."

"I own you."

The words echoed in her head, louder and louder, until they felt like they were suffocating her. She let the phone drop onto the bed, the voicemail still playing, his voice like a toxin poisoning the air around her. Her chest tightened as she lay back on the thin, uncomfortable mattress, her body sinking into the sagging springs.

She couldn't stop the tears now. They came hard and fast, blurring her vision as the reality of everything crashed down on her. She pressed her hands over her face, trying to stifle the sobs, but it was no use. All of the fear, the anger, the helplessness—it all came pouring out, and she couldn't hold it back anymore.

How had she gotten here? How had her life spiraled so far out of control that she was hiding in a dingy motel, alone, terrified, and pregnant?

The baby kicked again, but this time it didn't comfort her. It only made her cry harder, the weight of responsibility crushing her chest. What if Emilio was right? What if she couldn't do this? What if she couldn't protect her baby?

She curled into herself, hugging her knees to her chest, sobbing until her body ached. The sounds of the voicemail finally faded, leaving only the deafening silence of the motel room, broken by her gasps for breath. 

In that silence, all the fear she had pushed aside came rushing back in. 

She was alone. She had no plan, no real idea of what came next. And now, there was a furious man out there who wouldn't stop until he found her. 

Her tears soaked the pillow as she lay there, shaking and broken, wondering how she was supposed to keep going.