Unconventional

Poor

The next morning, the motel room was colder than it had been the night before. Jennifer woke up shivering, the thin blanket on the bed offering little warmth against the early autumn chill that crept through the cracked windows. Her head ached from the night of crying, her eyes still puffy and raw.

She glanced over at the small heater in the corner of the room—it was ancient, humming uselessly, doing nothing to chase away the cold. She couldn't stay like this. She needed something warmer, something to take the edge off the biting air. Maybe a heating blanket or a space heater from the store nearby.

Pushing herself out of bed, Jennifer quickly dressed in the few layers she had packed, tugging her jacket tight around her growing belly. Her stomach fluttered again with the familiar kicks as if the baby was already feeling the cold too. She pressed a hand to her belly, trying to steady herself. She had to be strong, for both of them.

She grabbed her wallet, stuffing it into her pocket, and stepped outside into the morning light. The streets around the motel were eerily quiet, a thick fog hanging low over the ground. She kept her head down as she walked, still feeling exposed, still feeling like Emilio's eyes were on her even though she knew he wasn't here. He couldn't be here.

The store wasn't far, just a few blocks, but every step she took felt heavy, as if each one pulled her closer to the weight of her situation.

When she finally reached the small store, she hurried inside, grateful for the slight warmth that greeted her. The store was old, with narrow aisles crammed with items, the fluorescent lights flickering above. She made her way to the back, where the heaters and blankets were, scanning the shelves for something affordable.

Her fingers closed around a simple heating blanket, and for a moment, she felt a sense of relief. At least she'd have some warmth tonight.

But as she made her way toward the register, she froze.

Through the large front window, parked right across the street, was Emilio's car.

Her blood ran cold, her heart stopping in her chest. It was unmistakable—the sleek black car, the same make, the same license plate. Panic surged through her veins, her vision blurring at the edges as her breath hitched in her throat.

No. No, no, no. He couldn't be here. Not this fast.

Her hand tightened around the blanket as she ducked behind the nearest aisle, her mind racing. He hadn't seen her, had he? She hadn't seen him, but what if he was in the car, waiting? Watching? Her chest constricted, and her breaths came in short, rapid gasps, her vision tunneling. Her legs felt weak, like they might give out beneath her.

She had to get out. She couldn't let him find her, not now. She couldn't let him pull her back into that nightmare.

Jennifer forced herself to move, the world spinning as she crouched low and slowly made her way toward the side exit. Her heart pounded in her ears, each step heavier than the last as she slipped out of the store, abandoning the blanket and any thought of paying. Her only focus now was escape.

The fog outside was thick, making it easier to blend into the street as she hurried down the sidewalk, keeping close to the buildings, avoiding the main road. She didn't look back. She couldn't. If she looked back and saw Emilio's figure stepping out of that car, she knew she'd fall apart completely.

Her heart raced wildly, her legs carrying her faster than she thought possible, her breath coming in panicked gasps. She didn't stop until she rounded the corner, the motel just ahead, its flickering neon sign the only thing visible in the haze.

Once she was safely inside her room, she collapsed against the door, her body trembling as the panic slowly subsided. Her chest heaved, the sobs returning, but quieter now, as if she had nothing left to give.

He had been so close. So damn close.

She had to leave. This motel wasn't far enough. It wasn't safe enough. Emilio would find her, and when he did, she knew he wouldn't stop until she was back under his control.

Jennifer slid to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest, her mind spinning with fear. She had no plan, no next move. Just the instinct to survive.

But somehow, some way, she had to disappear—before it was too late.

——-

Jennifer lay wide awake on the thin motel bed, her heart still racing from earlier. The image of Emilio's car parked across the street haunted her, replaying over and over in her mind. She couldn't risk staying here another night, not after that close call.

She had no choice. She had to leave, now, while it was still dark and quiet. The thought of staying put made her skin crawl, every nerve on edge with the fear that he could find her at any moment.

Slowly, she got up from the bed, careful not to make too much noise as she grabbed her suitcase from the corner of the room. She had packed it hastily, only throwing in what little she'd brought with her. The room was so cold, she could see her breath as she zipped the case and took one last look around. Nothing left behind. She was leaving everything behind, again.

Jennifer rolled her suitcase to the door, hesitating for just a second before stepping out into the cold, damp night. The parking lot was empty, and the only sound was the hum of the motel sign buzzing overhead. She breathed a sigh of relief—no Emilio, no black car, just the stillness of the night.

She hurried to the front office, the cold biting at her skin as she tugged her jacket tighter. The front desk was dimly lit, and through the window, she could see the night manager slumped in a chair, half-asleep. She pushed the door open, the small bell above it jingling, and the man jerked awake with a grunt.

"What the hell?" he muttered, blinking at her groggily.

"I need to check out," Jennifer said, her voice quieter than she intended. She cleared her throat, trying to sound firmer. "I'm leaving."

The man stared at her, his heavy-lidded eyes narrowing in confusion. "Now? You booked three months."

"I know, but I need to go," she insisted, feeling a flicker of impatience rise in her chest. "I'll pay for whatever I owe, just check me out."

He looked her up and down, then slowly turned to the computer. His fingers moved sluggishly over the keys, and after a few minutes, he leaned back in his chair with a tired sigh.

"Alright, but you're gonna get hit with an early departure fee. Can't do anything about that. Rules are rules," he said flatly, already pulling up the charges.

Jennifer's jaw clenched, her heart racing with frustration. She couldn't afford this. She'd barely made it out with enough money as it was. "I can't pay an early fee," she said, her voice tense. "I'm leaving because of an emergency. Just check me out, and give me the refund for the rest of the stay."

The manager raised an eyebrow, glancing at her for a moment as if weighing whether to argue with her or not. He sighed, tapping a few more keys before shaking his head. "You'll still lose a night's charge, but fine. I'll refund you for the rest. Doesn't matter to me."

She watched as he processed the refund, the seconds ticking by slowly. Every second felt like an eternity, the panic building in her chest. He handed her a slip to sign, and she scrawled her name hastily, her fingers cold and shaky.

"Here," he muttered, sliding a few crumpled bills across the counter. "That's what's left after the one night and the fee."

Jennifer grabbed the money, not even counting it. She couldn't be here any longer. She stuffed it into her pocket and turned to leave, but the manager's voice stopped her.

"You sure you don't want to stay? It's cold out there. And if you leave this late, good luck finding another place tonight."

She turned back, her gaze steady despite the dread still clawing at her chest. "I'll be fine."

The man shrugged, already turning back to his TV, indifferent to her situation.

Jennifer didn't look back again as she pulled her suitcase out the door and stepped into the cold night. The chill hit her harder now, the weight of uncertainty and fear settling in her bones. But she couldn't stop. Not yet.

She had to keep moving, keep running. It was the only thing keeping her and the baby safe.